One Small Step

My dad recently gifted my son with an old jon boat--nothing fancy-- gunmetal grey with oars that clamp on the edge, motor-worthy when he's old enough, but for now, just muscle power to putter around in the cove.  Andrew was ecstatic and couldn't wait to be afloat in his brand-new vessel for the first time yesterday.

Once there, however, he was scared.  The boat felt unstable to him. It rocked and tilted as the small swells drifted into our cove from the main channel.  The novelty wore off quickly.  He realized it was hard work, and in the hot sun, he quickly wished he were bobbing in the cool water himself.  But he couldn't get out--there was no one to help him out at the dock.  Everyone was either in the water or otherwise occupied, so I suggested to him that he just jump in from the jon boat.

To your average almost ten year-old, maybe that would have solved the problem, but Andrew froze, uncertain of his balance already and unable to take the leap, small though it was.  So there he sat, one leg swung over the side of the boat, one leg firmly inside, while the rest of us grew more and more frustrated over his inability to stop thinking about it and just jump.

It was clear that the idea of what could happen was worse than what actually would happen.  His fear, insecurity, and lack of confidence in himself paralyzed him, even though he knew logically that he was inches from the surface with a life jacket on and capable adults by his side.  The more he thought, though, the harder it became, and he went nowhere.

Today, as we took the pontoon out for a brief excursion, we headed to the marina to fuel up.  Normally, we have a full boat and someone is at the ready to hop off and "catch" the boat and tie us off.  But with just the three of us, the options were few.  I'm not the steadiest on my feet sometimes.  I can trip and fall over nothing, and with a tricky hip that isn't always reliable, I don't tend to put myself into physically precarious positions.  Today, however, without thinking, I stepped agilely off of the still-moving boat and onto the gas dock, nimbly skirting pilings and line as well as the widening expanse of water between the bow of the boat and the slightly higher dock.  And without a thought, until afterwards, when I realized with amazement what I had done.  I know, I know...it's not bungee jumping or skydiving, but trust me when I say that it was a big deal for me.

Different situations, but equally challenging in their own way.  Why was mine easier?  Because I just DID.  No thought, just action, while he was locked in a position of neither forward nor backward, looking for a solution that wasn't there.  I know the panic he felt trying to get out of the boat.  The situation was wobbly and uncertain, and he was terrified of someone letting him down and of the idea of getting hurt.  He did eventually succumb to the pressure and slid off effortlessly into the water. And the look of surprise on his face when nothing bad happened was exactly what I felt when I hopped onto the dock like it was my job.

I've done a lot of changing and growing in that past two years, all of it for the better. I"m a stronger, more confident person in a lot of ways, and I prove to myself on a daily basis that I can handle whatever life throws at me, even if it doesn't feel like it at the time.  He thought too much, I didn't think at all, and we both made it through.  He was embarrassed though, and showed his ass a little as he was panicking, and I can relate to that as well. The desperation of trying to hold on to something you've placed your trust in as it slips away is strong, and people do and say dumb things when they're scared and lost, me included.  The lesson here?  Turn off your brain, trust yourself first, and just let go.

The Lake

The lake is many things to me.  On any given day, I have mixed feelings about the money we spend owning and maintaining our little place there, the oft-perceived hassle of packing, getting there, and keeping up with what amounts to two homes, and with the separation from home and activities that happen here without us when we're away.  For the better part of seven years, we've lived a dual life.  Life is different at the lake, for sure, and whether it's spring, summer, or fall, it's a big part of our family dynamic and who we "are." 

The lake has given us many wonderful things.  For starters, Andrew has had the opportunity to swim, to explore, to fish, to drive a boat (with assistance, of course), to rub elbows with the Coasties, and just to be outside doing stuff, which is lost on a lot of kids these days.  The quality time he has spent with his grandparents there is priceless.  He will always, always remember the golf cart parades, the "Wookie hunting" laps around the campground, the bonfires, and just getting to run around on his own and be independent as he traipses back and forth from our place to my dad's, or takes the opportunity to walk back up the hill from the dock on his own.  These days, as he tries to convince us that he needs a dog, he's taken on the dog-walking responsibilities for my dad, and he and Pooch have become great pals.  He's hung out in a "bar" playing ring toss and listening to music on many a summer night.  He knows how to tie off a boat, the difference between port and starboard, and a wealth of boating regulations that many adults would be hard pressed to recite. 

The lake has been a difficult place to be sometimes as well.  Anytime you have a lot of family members in a confined space, or just spending a lot of time together, there's bound to be conflict.  It can be nerve-wracking to try to juggle multiple agendas, to try to appease everyone's moods and attitudes.  I don't know about other families, but we're a testy bunch sometimes (present company included), and you just have to adopt the mindset of letting everyone do their own thing and letting things slide sometimes.  I like that Andrew sees that as well, though, because in spite of the bickering and the eye-rolling, we all still keep coming back together as a family, and that's what it's all about.  Edna's last summer is forever attached to the lake as well, and for me, that's part of what still makes it hard to be there sometimes.  Remembering the late night card games on the deck, her surprise at the purchase of the "new" boat, how she always organized things so well and never complained about the fact that the more of us that were there, the more work she had to do...all of that is hard for me, and I miss her as much there as I do anywhere, if not more so. 

This weekend was a mix of all of that, and more.  We got up early on Saturday morning to have breakfast at a local church that does a fundraiser on the first Saturday of each month.  It's a tradition that we go...it has been for years.  The food is good, nobody has to cook, there's a nice little playground behind the church...all of those are good reasons to go.  But when I've been up late, usually drinking, getting up early and getting dressed to go out is not high on my list of things to do.  I like my sleep, and I like sitting around in my jammies in the morning relaxing.  Can't do that on a Church Breakfast Saturday!  And there's the emotional baggage of remembering that we ALL used to go, and now it's just Dad.  After his recent health scares, it's been in the back of my head that we escaped a close call with him, not once, but several times this winter, and it's hard to watch him struggling with a cane, or losing his balance and just being...frail.  I'm not going to lie..I wigged a little bit Saturday morning, for all of the above reasons, then rescued myself by curling up on the couch with my favorite blanket watching 21 Jump Street and napping for most of the day. 

Weekends at the lake are also for going out.  There's a great place just around the bend from us that we like to go to, not just because of the atmosphere (waterfront, informal, bands most weekend nights), but also because it's close.  We've had a lot of great times there over the years (and through multiple owners and name changes).  Dad and Edna used to babysit for us while we all went out drinking and dancing...in the last few years, my dad hasn't really enjoyed a loud, crowded place anyway, and now that his hearing and perception is damaged, he really can't tolerate it.  So, we all had dinner together on the waterfront patio before we sent the oldest and the youngest home.  My dad had asked Andrew to spend the night with him, and I encourage their quality time whenever I can...besides the fact that it freed us up to stay out late.  We stayed and drank, people watching (middle-aged men in large, frou-frou Kentucky Derby hats and 50 year-old strippers with matching yellow hair, pants, and stiletto heels...she was a hot mess, but that's a different story), and for my sister and me, dancing to party favorites like The Cupid Shuffle and The Wobble.  It was a great night, and a fabulous way to end a day that had started in less than stellar fashion. 

I guess the point of all of this is that the lake is, for me, a dichotomy of happiness and sadness, relaxation and activity, togetherness and solitude...of beginnings and endings...transitions is maybe a better word, since the most important things don't end, they just change.  I vividly remember the "firsts" and "lasts" of so many things.  The beauty of the lake is that there is always a new memory, a new "first" to help ease the sting of a loss.  Here's to the start of a great season. 

Vodka = Frenemy

I met my dad's girlfriend Friday night.  Read here, here, and here to understand why this was a big deal.  As usual, I'm the only one of my siblings subjected to it, because a) youngest sister is off with her head up her butt and has cut the rest of us out of her life while she pretends to be an artist and might possibly be joining a cult b) other sister is on a cruise to the Bahamas with her boyfriend [hello horse, this is the cart in front of you] and hasn't checked in in a week, and c) brother and father are not speaking due to said brother's having lived with /mooched/regressed to a teenager during the past year when he was living with Dad, causing Dad to throw him out on his ear.  There, I said it.  They can be pissed if they want, but if you can't handle the consequences, don't...make the choices, or whatever.  Uggh, this is off to a bad start. 

Anyway, we went to the lake, because Dad's dating a "local" there. And try as I might to convince him that we should go OUT into NEUTRAL territory for this first meeting, he insisted that this lady wanted to fix us dinner, and that we could do it at his place at the lake.  So...it was either go to complete stranger's house and feel completely uncomfortable, OR let her fix dinner in a kitchen that still feels like it's Edna's and hang out with her in a place that is still so strongly tied to her, regardless of how well we are all managing and getting on with our lives.  So, I was nervous going in.  So nervous that I practically attacked the lady handing out wine and cheese (cheese?  who needs cheese?) samples at our favorite grocery store.  So nervous that I downed an extremely dirty martini in about two minutes.  See where this is headed?  Some friends of ours came down to hang out with us, and I think at this point I had been so worried about being able to carry on a conversation and not come across as a complete anti-social bitch (I have that reputation when meeting strangers), that I just couldn't stop talking.  I don't even really know what I said, or a lot of it.  I had two more drinks (and not measured out drinks, but POURED drinks), in what must have been a pretty short amount of time...all before eating a single bite.  Thank GOODNESS my very smart phone died at around this point, because it probably kept me from humiliating myself in front of all of cyberspace when I couldn't drunk tweet or update my Facebook status.  We did eventually eat, but apparently it wasn't enough, and I should have had bread...lots of bread...but it was a pretty carb-free meal, unfortunately.

We eventually moved up the hill to our place, because I at least had sense enough to know that it was past Andrew's bedtime (James was completely sober, before anyone thinks I'm a bad mom), and probably I had some hope that if I said it was time to move, the evening would end.  But it didn't, and Dad and the girlfriend came up the hill with us.  I had also had sense enough to take car keys away from all involved (and throw them under our bed, for some reason), so at some point, we had to call the girlfriend's son to come get her.  Great way to meet my possibly-future stepbrother, huh?  I'm sure I made a great impression.  Whoa!

After the girlfriend left, Dad and I got into some deep discussion...and how it started, I have no idea.  I guess I'll have to ask Dad at some point exactly what kind of gibberish spewed forth.  James was there at the beginning of the talk, but went to bed at some point.  I remember the conversation started with how weird it was for me that she was working in Edna's kitchen, and I remember crying at that point, already.  But I don't know what the trigger was, other than cheap vodka.  Blecch.  The conversation ended, though, with a long talk (more like a rant) about Dad's smoking, and I do remember sobbing and yelling at him about not wanting Andrew to lose another grandparent, and how Andrew asks me why he smokes if he knows it's bad for him, and just becoming altogether hysterical.  Now, I'm not condoning my behavior, but Dad at least took me seriously and didn't become angry or feel like I was scolding him, which happens when the topic comes up under normal circumstances.  And Dad promised he would try to quit...promised to fill Chantix prescriptions, and although he was probably worried that I was slipping off the deep end, he listened.

Needless to say, I felt like complete and utter hell on Saturday.  I honestly think I was still kind of drunk that morning.  All I wanted to do was stay in bed in the dark and not move.  By the afternoon, however, I was human enough to go swimming and on a boat ride with Dad (who was NOT smoking) and the girlfriend, and by nighttime, I was actually convinced I might live, although we had a very low-key evening of ordering pizza and watching a movie while my dad and his friend hung out, separate from us, for the most part.  (I don't want to go from zero to sixty in five seconds, if that's clear enough.  All things in moderation...gee, I should have learned that Friday night.)  We did gather together later that evening, along with our other friends, to put off some fireworks and enjoy some of the evening.  Andrew and I then proceeded to stay up together and watch The Bride of Frankenstein (I'm really getting Mother of the Year awards here, huh?), which he enjoyed.  We did some character analysis on the creature and the people he comes into contact with, then finally made it to bed at about midnight.  (Dad had only three cigarettes the whole day!)

Sunday involved breakfast with Dad, more swimming, fishing, and a boat ride with our friends.  My dad didn't smoke, the ashtrays have vanished from the house, and he appears to be giving it a good shot.  His Father's Day gift to me, I suppose.  He seems happy, and excited about the prospects of this relationship, which I hope he doesn't take too fast, because I don't want him to get hurt.  My brother texted him good wishes for the day, and we followed up the pleasantries of the weekend with a call from my cruisin' sister, who gave us the good news that she had become engaged on the trip.  (I wrote the bit about the cart before the horse before she called me today, and I'm just leaving it in anyway.)

There's No Place Like Home

It's Saturday morning, and I am at home.  And it's wonderful!  I realized last night that this was the first weekend we have been home in about eight weeks, and I was amazed that it has been so long.   

Don't get me wrong--I love our lake place, and I treasure being there.  On this beautiful, crisp morning, I can picture the beauty of the lake reflecting the sun and the smell of the woods.  And it's 9:30, which means I'm missing breakfast fixed by my dad, a Saturday morning ritual.  And I'm wondering what Lester, the 18-inch catfish I caught and accidentally released last Saturday, is doing with his day.  (Lester, I am coming for you.  Don't you worry.)

But on the flip side, I had the inspiration to write this morning, and I can.  Life at the lake is practically electronics-free and somewhat isolated.  Andrew watches a little t.v., but it's mostly shows that we've recorded at home and taken down with his portable player.  We don't watch news, I barely use my phone because everyone I would talk to is there, and I certainly don't have a computer or internet connection to distract me from the lake, even when I want it.  I keep talking about purchasing a netbook or laptop to take with us--I am inspired to write almost constantly at the lake, but short of scratching down notes on paper (perish the thought), I have no way to put it into print.  And as many times as I write myself notes about ideas, they get lost in translation.  The moment passes, I can't remember what I was trying to remind myself of, or I just get plain distracted and move on.  And while I would LOVE to be able to sit on the dock and write, or get up early and sit outside with my cup of hazelnut coffee in my pajamas, I also don't want the distraction to intrude on our idyllic and serene (unless someone is yelling at me, but that's a story for another day) escape-from-reality lifestyle.

I am also amazingly impressed with the amenities of home that we don't yet enjoy at the lake--like a toilet in the house.  I was able to get up in the middle of night and traipse to the bathroom without worrying about a flashlight or the boogeyman or where the golf cart key is.  And first thing this morning, I was able get out of bed without climbing delicately over James (the lake bed only has one way out) and walk calmly down the hall to the bathroom instead of the morning RACE to the bathhouse which is inevitable after drinking the requisite four-to-six Stella Artoises (I have no idea if that was the right way to make that plural?  My six years of French is failing me.) or Hoegartens from a "mixy-matchy six packy" the night before. 

The house will get some attention today as well.  Rooms that have been picked up and put away, but not cleaned, in months, just might get vacuumed and dusted.  And while I love my house unconditionally, in a few hours, I will be bemoaning the fact that we live quite comfortably in four tiny rooms at the lake--in a house that takes all of fifteen minutes to clean from top to bottom.  That's as opposed to the ten rooms and three bathrooms that we don't need  have filled with crap  currently occupy when we're home.  (My grand plan, if we're having no more kids, is to move us all into the downstairs of this rambling old farmhouse and turn the upstairs into another apartment--also a "story" for another day.)  It will take me all day to accomplish anything, because I'll spend most of my time running up and down stairs or walking fifty feet to get from one room to the other.  And then the house still won't be clean.  There are outside chores awaiting as well---hedges that threaten to take over the yard, bushes hanging over the sidewalk, a sandbox that needs to be de-leafed, and a porch that desperately needs to be swept and hosed.

All that being said, as I prepare for my second cup of coffee and venturing downstairs to make blackberry waffles for my guys, while I will relish every second of the day and all that it brings, my mind will inevitably be divided into A Tale of Two Towns, each with their own appeal (and drawbacks).  And I stop to remind myself that we are so very lucky to have both options (for I so often look only at the negatives) and to live for this minute in this place.  And just as "parting is such sweet sorrow," and being away from the lake makes me miss it, "absence makes the heart grow fonder."  It will make it that much sweeter to return to the lake in two weeks, just as being away has made it sweet to be home. 

And now, off to start the day.  At home. 

"Down Time" Virtual Tour

I figured it's time for me to chronicle the little abode that occupies so much of my time lately.  If if weren't for the lake house, there are so many things I could have accomplished.  But this little place, rustic thought it may be, has been a real treasure.  Maybe one day, possibly even soon, I'll grow tired of it, but for now, all I can say is, I am immensely thankful for the wonderful childhood memories of "summers at the lake" we are able to create for Andrew, and for the as yet uncounted days of "vacation" that are much higher than they would be under normal circumstances.  So, here it is, a look inside our summer weekends.

The front porch.  Fancy, isn't it?

Just inside the front door--our newly installed kitchenette, complete with unfinished walls and a plywood floor. Yes, that's a shower curtain you see to the right, because we are fortunate enough to have what most of the other "houses" don't have...

...a spacious (and also unfinished, if you have noticed the ceiling) and conveniently-located shower!  MOST people have to shower in one of the two bath houses, and while there is nothing at all WRONG with that, I am SOOOOO glad to be able to shower in my kitchen own home.

Just past the kitchen is the...foyer?  Be sure to pronounce that with a French accent.  Andrew's toys live on this shelf, when they aren't strewn about, that is.

Standing in the exact same spot and looking toward the right, you will find the entrance to our "room."  I have resisted stenciling "If the trailer's rockin',don't come a-knockin'" above the door here. 

Our room, oh-so-tastefully (and modernly) decorated with avocado counter tops, circa 1974, and the lovely chintz curtains that don't match a damn thing.  The paneling is hot, too, I know!  (I can't flipping wait to paint in there, but I have better things to do on sunny summer days!)  We ripped out most of the dinette set, leaving only a little couch and a shelf.  Andrew's little t.v. and DVD player hook up there for afternoon rest times and rainy days.

I never realized until now how much like a submarine this looks.  This is where the magic happens.  Or not, considering Andrew sleeps on a shelf above our heads.  This is why the stenciling hasn't happened yet.  I'm waiting for the night Andrew falls out of bed and lands on us, breaking all four of our legs.  Some of the fringe benefits of our sleeping arrangement?  The air conditioner blows right at our heads, which is a double bonus.  I love to be cold when I sleep, but the noise also drowns out the freight train snoring of the hubby which is amplified tenfold inside this tin can.  It's also very entertaining when James shoves his pillow up so high on the headboard that he knocks the lamp over and scares the crap out of me in the middle of the night.  I've moved the lamp, but it just doesn't look right if it's not centered.  It would mess up the feng shui we have going here. In all seriousness, we sleep quite comfortably...well, if you ignore the fact that our "mattress" is the same material as the cushion you see on the little couch in the previous picture, with three "egg crate" mattress pads layered on top (one of them is even memory foam...insert "oooh" and "ahhhh" as appropriate).  That would all be quite comfortable if they didn't slide away from the wall as I slip gradually into the crack throughout the night. 

The tiny bathroom is also inside the submarine, but I forgot to take a picture.  It's not exciting.  There is currently no toilet, and the sink isn't hooked up to water yet (the water can't be on until the toilet is fixed, because the first weekend we stayed there and tried to turn the water on in there, the toilet flooded this whole room.  We're waiting for a tiny little part the size of a paper clip, but unfortunately, the only person who knows what to buy keeps forgetting to go buy it.  Good thing we're not paying him!

Back to the foyer, this time moving straight ahead into the living room.

Wait, when did he get here?

I have to point out the lovely wall that James and my sister's boyfriend built (with my dad's assistance) to separate her room from the living room.  The previous owners used this area as their kitchen and dining area...there's a small step up into her room.  For space reasons, we opted for curtains instead of a door.

Inside Leigh Ann's room.  She also has the luxury of an air conditioner pointed at her head so she is saved from hearing the reverberations of the snoring from inside the submarine.

We still do dishes in her room, because it's the only sink with running water so far.

The view down the hill.  The lake is down there somewhere.  We drive down the hill, or take the golf cart, because the walk back up is a bitch, especially after a long day in the sun and the water.

But eventually, you get to this, the reason for it all...Andrew loves to fish in our quiet cove.

When the water is low, we can swim to the very end of the cove and sit on the little beach...it's not sand, but it will do.

Andrew enjoys being able to stand up and run in and out of the water in the shallows.  I try to avoid touching the slightly mucky bottom, plus I'm never quite sure what I'm stepping on.  Stick?  Snake?  Let's not go there...Andrew's water shoes keep his feet safe.

The only visitors we have in the deep water where the dock is, besides a family of Canada geese,  are the fish...perch and stripers that occasionally nip at us while we swim.  I feed them crackers, and they leave me alone.  I am the Fish Whisperer.  I also float quite nicely without benefit of a raft, and even without moving. It's the boobs--built-in flotation devices.

Andrew swims very well with his life jacket on.  He'd wear it even if he could swim without it.  The water right there is about 60 feet deep.

If we're lucky, and we usually are, the ice cream boat will come by.  Fishing and ice cream are two things we'll get out of the water for.

All in all, we're very lucky.  It's not spacious, and it's not luxurious, but it suits us just fine.

Oblah di, Oblah dah, Life Goes On...

We all went back to the lake last weekend for one last bittersweet trip of the year. The "campground" where the "house" is closes down for the winter, shuts the water off in the bathhouses, and except for a few dedicated and slightly insane people who enjoy roughing it, it will be pretty much abandoned until spring. As much as we knew the weather was supposed to be beautiful, we needed the trip for closure and, I hope, healing. Some random images from the weekend...Andrew concentrates on trying to master the monkey bars after breakfast Saturday morning. A local church sponsors a "make a donation" breakfast once a month, and they have a great playground.We had gone on a slightly wild goose chase after breakfast to find a large thermos. Although it was beautiful, it wasn't quite beer drinking weather, so hot cider with spiced rum sounded like a great idea. The chase was well worth it. Andrew enjoyed his cider plain.James spent some time at the helm both days. I think I'm the only one that doesn't like to drive the boat. I'm perfectly content to ride.Saturday night called for another bonfire, mostly because we had promised Andrew s'mores. By the way, if you haven't tried microwave s'mores, they're just as good.Andrew waiting patiently for the short ride down to the dock on Sunday morning. He's wearing his "captain's" hat that he has to wear for at least part of every boat ride. He insisted on taking Grandma's hat (she got a white one when Dad bought her the boat for her birthday) with us on the ride both days because, "She can't go with us on the boat anymore." The day was perfect, except for one thing. I was missing Edna terribly, and I think Andrew was too. Andrew was disappointed that the Smith Mountain Dock marina store was closed. They sell popcorn there to feed to these monstrous "pet" carp. Feeding the fish is one of Andrew's favorite activities, and luckily, we had some Little Debbie crackers on board. It turns out that the fish like them just as much as popcorn. My sisters and my dad in a thoughtful moment...



...and some pictures of the beauty of the day, which somehow just made my heart ache more.

Who is coming to Harrisonburg?

Yes, that is right...Barack Obama is coming to Harrisonburg to rally support in the waning days of the campaign. Tam and I are already trying to work out logistics. Knowing that the JMU Convocation Center only seats 7,000, it means having to be in the Burg and be on line fairly early. So, do we go or do we go to the airport and try to run into him there? If you had told me that either presidential candidate would be traveling to the Valley six months ago, I would have told you to jump in a lake. This area is a Republican stronghold. I still look at this graphic and can't believe it says Harrisonburg. We got the e-mail from the campaign and it befuddled me. The Convo...where we used to have basketball season tickets, where I first saw Jimmy Buffett (April 1987), where the quietest men's room is the one next to the ticket office...OUR CONVO!?!?!?!

As for what else has been up with us, I hope to do some heavy blogging to get everyone caught up on our last trip to SML for the season and anything else that is rolling around our heads. Once again, we apologize to our loyal readers for not keeping the blog timely. We are working on it.

Really....Obama is coming HERE?

For more information, click the Obama-Biden logo on the right sidebar. Also, thanks to the O-B campaign for not hunting me for lifting the graphic - I never thought I'd see those words together!
---J

We survived another weekend at the lake!

With the Kia loaded and fully fueled, we made the trek to Smith Mountain Lake. I am going to try to keep the travelogue tight this go-round.

We arrived Friday afternoon and headed to Grandma and Grandpop's dock. The dock is deep inside a cove - you can watch the activity come and go into the main channel but feel very safe swimming in it. The good news was the fish and turtles managed not to nibble too much off us. Leigh Ann, Tam, and I did some swimming, floating, and beverage consumption while Grandma watched all the mayhem. Andrew and Grandpop were working on a very big project.

They were working on catching dinner. Okay, they didn't have that kind of luck, but the little fish around the dock were happy to be part of the "Andrew Lake Entertainment" experience.

Saturday was spent at the state park. Andrew built a "swimming pool" (a hole) with Grandpop. He also spent plenty of time swimming with Daddy, Mommy, and Aunt Leigh Ann. He is working on holding his breath and I think he'll have the hang of it soon. The state park beach was a little more crowded than our last few visits, but this being a Saturday in August, it wasn't all that bad. In addition to our own fun, we were able to watch the local police boat pull over a SeaDoo driver for getting too close to the swimming area. We also had a boat that was WAY too big for these waters try to dock at the state park docks. There had been a drowning a few days ago, so the staff was a little hesitant to open portions of the swimming area. Before Tam had an opportunity to light into the staff for having three guards at the main chair but no one on the wing chairs, a life guard appeared as if on cue. Saturday was a good day!

Our traditional Sunday boat ride had two new components this week. First, Andrew rode up in the bow seating. He sat with me for a while and then moved on to Leigh Ann. He really enjoyed the waves and the wind in his face. He might just turn into a real sailor. The other change-up was Grandpop offering the helm to Tam. She did a fine job of handling the "Red Cedar" (Dad's boat). Andrew also took a turn at the wheel.

One bonus on this trip was our new preferred route through the mountains. I will tell that tale and share the pics during a mid-week post. ---J

And the calendar turns to August...

With August staring us straight in the face, we decided to log some time at Dad and Edna's place on Smith Mountain Lake. I took a few days off from work (Isn't that what vacation days are for?) and we loaded up on Wednesday afternoon. The main reason we went on Wednesday instead of Thursday was Tam's sister Anna was going to be on hand. Anna attends VCU and spends 98.7% of her time in the metro Richmond area, so this was a bonus.

If there is one place besides the beach that Andrew has logged a ton of time this summer, it is behind the wheel of a golf cart. As soon as we arrived, he was trying to talk anyone and everyone into taking him for a ride. Grandpop was happy to oblige as long as there was photographic evidence!



After dinner and light conversation with the crew (which included a special guest - Leigh Ann's friend Kristi), it was time for the Big A to get some shut-eye. With Andrew sleeping, the cards came out and the dinner table turned into the beverage center. A deck of cards materialized and drinking games were played. While we aren't huge fans of the featured games, it was nice to sit out under the stars, kibbitz with everyone, and enjoy good times!

Thursday's weather was dicey, but we made the trek over to Smith Mountain Lake State Park to enjoy the beach. The current lake level (low) combined with the gentle slope of the beach make this the perfect place to take Andrew to swim. The clouds began to roll in and it started to rain. Edna, Leigh Ann and Kristi took shelter under the covered seating area behind the beach. Tam was a trooper and sat in her chair as the rain alternated between mist, drizzle, and steady light drops. Andrew and I were having a ball in the water. He loved watching the rain drops hit the lake. Okay, I have to admit I thought it was pretty cool, too. The rain began to get steady, so we went up to the shelter to have lunch. With the rain settling in, we managed to score rain checks for another day of free swimming!

Friday's weather was much better! The big buzz around the state park was that Governor Tim Kaine was going to be attending a ceremony on site. Having never met a governor, I wasn't going to let this chance go by. While we swam and played, I kept one eye on the shelter. After we had some lunch, the crowd began to thicken and I went to join them. While I was waiting, a reporter from the Smith Mountain Eagle interviewed me concerning Governor Kaine's possible next job as the Democratic candidate for Vice President. Check the Eagle website soon for my answer! The punchline to my half-hour of hovering was that the governor's helicopter had trouble and he bowed out of the proceedings. Oh, well, the blog gets enough traffic without politicos coming to steal a picture. Andrew had a big day already, but there was more to come.

As you can see by the next two pictures, Andrew had a HUGE time onboard Grandpop's boat. It was a lovely evening with fairly calm waters, very little boat traffic, not a cloud in the sky - the perfect mix! It got even better when Grandpop turned the helm over to the Big A!





















Aunt Leigh Ann was not to be outdone by her dad. YES, this is Andrew driving the SeaDoo.











With such a big weekend, you would think we would have rested...but no, Saturday evening back in town sent us up to Bridgewater for our friend Jon's birthday party. Not only did Andrew play piano with Jacquie, but he met a real fireman (Jon's next door neighbor) who let Andrew try on one of his helmets.









With so much to recap, my fingers are worn out and I am glad we decided to stay home today. Thanks to everyone who made this week one of the best of the summer! ---J