I'm all packed. As soon as my last audiobook is loaded I'll be putting it all in the car and driving away. Away! Away! Away! I am so excited to be going up there, seeing Lala for a week, and learning to play with power tools. It'll be fun and hot and cool all at the same time. Since I'm leaving my laptop at home and there's no Wi-Fi there anyway, you won't hear from me for the next week. You'll be all right, though. Just remember that I'm probably sweaty with sawdust down my bra while you're all cool in your air conditioned house. See you next Sunday for sure.
July 15--John Frederick Kensett, The Old Pine, Darien, Connecticut. Jace loved that old tree. He sat under it when he was a kid on hot summer days letting the breeze off Lake Wooten cool him off. He imagined it as the place pirates buried their treasure and where Indians gathered for war dances. He and his friend Will camped out under the tree a hundred times over the years, lying on the soft layers of needles under the old pine watching the moon sail across the sky through the branches. Here's where he kissed Amy for the first time that October when the woods were alight with color and skeins of geese honked their way south. Today he'd buried Amy, losing her too young and too quickly to a fast-growing tumor that sank its tentacles into her brain and refused to let go.
Okay, now that's a little story-y. Enjoy your week. I intend to make the most of mine.