What I propose

We had a lovely long weekend.

With Ted on my lap, JG and I drove up to New Jersey on Friday night to visit my in-laws. It has become a semi-official tradition now to spend a couple of days with them, dip our toes into their frigid pool water, and dare everyone else to go in, when we really intend to sit on lounge chairs and read magazines. We usually go out to eat for one night and grill back at the house for the other, and JG makes a shrimp appetizer by special request from his sister. This year, we enjoyed reasonably pleasant weather and spent most of our time outdoors. When clouds threatened and wind blew, JG and his siblings battled it out over Mario Kart, while I listened in on their banter. I upheld the natural order of the universe by losing at mini-golf and almost falling out of the hammock. Ted received lots of loving from JG’s entire family, and he was so tuckered out by the end of our stay that I held nothing but a limp pile of sleeping puppy during the ride home. When we were ten minutes away from our house, I saw a burst of light in the distance. Fireworks! Longwood Gardens was firing off their annual Memorial Day display, and we could see it for the remaining minutes of the drive. Cheesy to be sure, it was kind of magical, too.

Yesterday, we slept in until the luxurious hour of 8am, and then headed out to meet friends for the local parade. I love that Kennett Square is such a small town that the major traffic arteries close for three parades each year that are all exactly the same, and people flood the streets to look on. This custom fills me with so much small-town charm that I can’t even stand it. Plus, our friends snagged a coveted grassy corner for our viewing spot, and Ted enjoyed his first parade in shady style. Of course, our peaceful serenity of saluting veterans and clapping to military themes was shattered when groups of reenactment folks starting firing their muskets. I clapped my fingers over my ears so as to prevent myself from being startled, but Ted was shaking like a leaf from the blasts. Thankfully, vehicles from half a dozen fire companies in the surrounding 20-mile radius toned down the end of the parade, and he recovered nicely.

Afterward, we went grocery shopping, unpacked, and cleaned up the general debris of being away, but the rest of the day was ours. JG grilled burgers, hot dogs, and corn, so we had our own quiet cookout, and then sat outside with Ted. He was still fairly exhausted from the weekend, so he just rolled around on the grass and pounced at sticks while JG surfed the web and I worked on crosswords. There was a hint of charcoal and freshly-cut grass in the air, and a round feeling of contentment settled on my shoulders.

This morning is humid and rainy, as if to fully hammer home the point that the weekend is truly over. Sigh. It’s not that I minded coming in to work today, but the weekend was so nice. JG has hypothesized that, with three-day weekends, he could teach all year long. What about the rest of us, I ask? I propose that extended weekends are instated from here on out so we have a day each for fun, accomplishment, and recovery. There must be a congressman somewhere who would get on board …