Worthy Adversaries

It was super windy when Josh and I hit the pickleball court this afternoon, but it was also sunny and 60 degrees, so we figured we'd give it a go. Josh won the first game, even though he'd never played before, but he had the wind and 33 years at his back, so we switched sides and played again. 

"The wind really does make a difference!" he said in surprise after I easily won the first 4 points, and I felt a little better after skulking him to tie up the match.

"Let's try the other court," I suggested. "The person with the wind will also have the short baseline area to contend with. Maybe it will be more even?"

I lost that game by 4, and it would have been the match if we had not agreed to one more switch. The fourth and final showdown of the day was a little closer than the others, but the old lady pulled it out, and we agreed to end the competition in a draw.

Until tomorrow!

Puzzling

Back in December, we did an Advent jigsaw puzzle. The holiday image came in 24 numbered little boxes with 40 or so pieces, and it took us about 10 minutes a day to assemble each section. It was a fun Christmas activity, only slightly marred by the fact that Day 7 was missing a piece. 

When we discovered the deficiency, we blamed ourselves and searched everywhere the piece could possibly have been dropped, on day 7 and every day after. But when we finished the puzzle, the piece was still missing.

"This puzzle is worthless now!" I proclaimed. "We can't lend it or trade it or even give it away because nobody wants to do a puzzle that's missing a piece." It was then that I found that puzzles make very good tinder for building fires. They even give a bit of color to the flames as they burn, and it didn't take long for the puzzle to be reduced to ash.

I had completely forgotten the incident until today, when, sitting at the dining room table, I spotted a puzzle piece on the floor. It was flipped over, and the number 7 was clearly stamped on its back. I gasped and retrieved the last piece of the Advent puzzle.

Friends, I have cleaned this small house thoroughly many times since December and have never seen a trace of the puzzle piece. And yet there it was today, in plain sight, not three feet from the table and in a regularly trafficked area. 

And now I'm sorry I burned the other 999!

Red Carpet Ready

We are back in Southern Maryland for our annual family Oscar Party getaway. For the last dozen years, we have created our own long weekend around our love of movies and the pageantry of award shoes. Our destination varies, but it has to be within a couple hours of home and on the water. Fortunately for us, the Academy Awards are presented in the off-season, and so we can usually find a pretty nice place for a reasonable rate. 

The core attendees are me, my wife, my brother, and my sister-in-law, but there has only been one year when it was just the four of us. We're usually joined by one to four of our nephews, their girlfriends, or other friends. This year, we had one fly in from Reno, another from Nashville, as well as our local nephew. We were hoping for a visit from the nephew who is currently working in Iceland, but it just didn't work out.

Even so, the seven of us, with our three dogs, have had a fabulous time in our bayfront beach house. We've had the beach to ourselves, staying in a rental tucked between two houses we have rented a couple of times each in the past. The place is filled with memories of Oscar weekends past, which we've added to by cooking great meals, playing games, building a bonfire, star-gazing, and seeing the sights, and we still have the main event to look forward to. 

Back in 2018, we had this same crew plus a few extra, and on a day trip to Leonardtown, my wife and sister-in-law found some amazing leggings, both colorful and comfortable, and bought a few pairs each. Back at the house, the boys got a little silly, and somehow, everyone ended up in leggings for the party. At the end of the weekend? They all kept theirs, and they still talk about how crazy comfortable leggings are. 

In fact? They are actually in Leonardtown right now trying to track down a few more pairs to wear tonight. We wouldn't want to be underdressed, would we?

Well Spent

The wind was already picking up, and the sun was sinking when we pulled into the pay station at Point Lookout State Park. After fumbling with unfamiliar technology and three dollar bills, the entry gate lifted and we were on our way to where the Potomac meets the Chesapeake. 

There were a few scattered cars in the parking lot, but it seemed that we had the park to ourselves as we we walked on the rip-rap scanning the bay for migrating birds. A cold, steady wind blew from the north. "We only have to stay until we get our money's worth," I teased Emily and Treat. "Three people? That's a dollar each-- let me know when you've had your fill."

As we walked on a sandy path, I raised my binoculars and spotted some bufflehead ducks and a few coots floating on the choppy water. We meandered past the little lake and over to the Potomac side beach, combing the sand as we skirted the river. There were a few nice pieces of beach glass in my pocket when Treat found the speckled tail feathers of a solitary sandpiper. 

We agreed to turn back at the Civil War fort, and on our return, we gathered pine fascicles and juniper sprigs, attempting to identify their species as closely as we could. Right before we reached the parking lot a small dark bird flew past, alighting on the wire overhead. With my binoculars, I could see the brilliance of its blue plumage and its rusty breast as well-- it was a beautiful eastern bluebird, surely a sign of better times.

"I think I got my dollar's worth," I said as we climbed into the car and headed back to our warm beach house filled with family and the promise of another day of vacation to come.

That Side

As I went walking, I saw a sign there 
And on the sign it said “No Trespassing.” 
But on the other side, it didn't say nothing, 

That side was made for you and me.

~Woody Guthrie

This Land Is Made for You and Me

I had reached the end of the short beach when I heard a raucous avian clamor coming from the inlet on the other side of the scrubby stand of pines. Hoping it was a flock of migrating Arctic Swans, I followed a wide path into the woods only to hit a chainlink fence topped with barbed wire a short way in. Confused, I bushwacked a bit to see if I could find a view of the birds, but the leafless thorns of Greenbriar that lined the way held me at bay. 

On the other side of the fence, I could see a road, and, sure it was the same one we had followed to get to our rented beach house, I turned left on a deer trail and continued until the fence ended and I had access to the road. It was then I saw the signs. Private Property, they proclaimed. No trespassing, hunting, or fishing. Violators will be prosecuted. 

I realized that all along the fence had been keeping me in, not out, in the interest of discouraging those prospective trespassers. So enlightened, I followed the road to where I could finally see the wetlands, but by then, the birds were gone.

Youthful Optimism

I ran into a former student and one of his buddies while walking the dog the other day. I spotted the duo from afar; they were climbing the steps to a porch and knocking on the door. I watched as they spoke to whoever answered and saw their shoulders slump slightly as they retraced their steps and started down the sidewalk towards me, pulling a heavy wagon behind them. I waved as they approached, and they greeted me with huge smiles.

"Whatcha up to?" I asked, pointing at the wagon, which I could now see was loaded with a hose, buckets, sponges, and rags.

"We're trying to do car washes to earn some money," my student told me.

"To buy pit bikes," his friend added.

"That's very enterprising!" I said. "How much are you charging?"

"Twenty-five," they told me together.

"How much are the bikes?" I asked.

"A thousand twenty-five," the other kid said, and my student sighed.

"Each?" I clarified, and when they nodded, my eyes grew wide. "That's 82 car washes!" I tried not to sound too discouraging, but it seemed pretty daunting to me. "How many have you done?"

"None," he reported.

"But we just started," his friend shrugged confidently.

"Well," I said, "I better let you get back to it. Good luck!"

"Thanks!" they replied and rolled their wagon on down the hill.

Resist the Invasion

I noticed her right away.

The woman was blond, in her late 40s, and looked for all the world like a former neighbor, but she was also standing in a patch of brambles with a ratty ball cap and frayed backpack, scanning the ground in an unexpected way. I decided to avoid eye contact and walk on by with Lucy.

"Tracey?" she said, and I stopped and turned around.

"I thought that might be you!" I said, "But then I also thought, Why would she be doing that?" I laughed, and she did, too.

"I'm looking for evil, invasive honeysuckle," she told me, "so I can cut it down and yank it out!"

"That sounds therapeutic," I commented. "Especially in these fraught times."

"Oh, it is," she answered. "It really, really is."