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The joy of long weekends
Long weekends for old fogeys, like LOML and me, are just like every other day of the week. Well, sorta, kinda like every other day of the week. LOML and I are reminded of an upcoming long weekend whenever one of our family members (from the city) or their friends call to make a reservation at Casa de Ourplasa. Of course, the traffic is usually a bit crazier on the highways and byways. And, so it was for this long weekend. The phone call, the reservation, the traffic and all of the attendant long-weekend stuff. It’s the beginning of the summer season in the County.
Thank goodness the County had dozens of events and activities to offer residents and visitors. Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends and family, but it is wonderful when they have lots and lots of things to do when they’re visiting. It’s great they have things to do that don’t include me providing the entertainment. I think you know what I mean. I do love them and enjoy sitting with them in the evening over a drink, sharing news, talking about the day and having a laugh. However, truth be told, I do feel like I need to have a long weekend once the guests have gone back to their routines. But that’s perspective, right? LOML and I wouldn’t appreciate a long weekend unless we needed a break after one. The thing is, I actually look forward to having more than two people to take advantage of my need to try new recipes and bake up a storm. Firing up the grill is hardly worthwhile if it’s just for two hamburgers or two chicken breasts, but if there’s a crowd, it becomes an occasion.
I remember when the shoe was on the other foot, forty years ago. LOML and I, along with various numbers of our offspring, were the visitors. We’d head to Toronto (our hometown) on a long weekend and crash with our PUs (parental units). The “moms” would bake and cook and fuss, and we soaked it all up. Did I miss the look on our parents’ faces when we packed everything into the Rollscan- hardly and said goodbye on the holiday Monday? I always thought the “moms” were misty-eyed because we were leaving and they miss the daylights out of us. Silly me, eh? They probably had tears of relief in their eyes. Towels would, once again, be hanging in the bathrooms where they belonged. There wouldn’t be a tangle of flipflops and sneakers in the front hall. The fridge wouldn’t look like the bombed-out remains of a village under siege. Our old skateboards, hockey sticks and nets wouldn’t litter the driveway and it would be safe to park without the fear of a wild slap shot messing up the shine on the sedan. I’ll wager we were barely on the highway when the PUs breathed a sigh of relief and poured themselves a Canadian Club.
Long weekends. Is there anything better? I doubt it. Our parents taught us well. LOML and I have kept the hockey sticks, the nets, the baseball gloves, the Lego and Barbies our children left behind. When ours show up with “theirs,” the summer long weekend becomes real. It really doesn’t get any better than that. Here’s to long weekends, a sigh of relief and a bottle of something cold and County to wrap it all up.
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