Another Monday

"More men are killed by overwork than the importance of the world justifies."

-Rudyard Kipling

Back at my computer for the first time since Friday morning. A sea of "emergency" filings of the nastiest sort to read, jury instructions due today, sniping at my paralegal for scheduling in-person events in Florida that will keep me in that God forsaken place and away from Peg a little longer.

I've developed a rather negative attitude toward the thing that pays for this lovely view of the lake. I would say it's ceased to be fun, but the fact is it never was fun, just a means to an end. A hell of a way to spend nearly 60,000 hours of one's life, and counting.

The long weekend was a treat. Peg and I drove over to a mostly closed Binghamton Airport, still without power after a freak hailstorm buried the place like it had suffered a blizzard the day before, to pick up the Columbia after its annual for the flight over to KLWM to see the kids. The weather was perfect, and we spent an enjoyable, quiet Fourth catching up in their wonderful backyard garden, throwing the ball for the dogs, and capping the evening with a perfect steak dinner, conversation over a glass of wine about the end of western civilization (tough to escape that one these days), and off to bed.

Saturday we found ourselves awake earlier than planned, and out for lattes in the same garden on a brilliant 60 degree morning. After breakfast Issac and Olivia loaded up the dogs and we all drove up to her family's cabin on Mirror Lake, just outside Wolfeboro, New Hampshire.

The cabin's disarray always sort of leaves us on edge, being tidy sorts of folks, but the company is always wonderful. We only ventured inside to refill our margaritas, and spent most of the day sitting on the dock talking with whoever made their way down for a quick dip or to sunbathe.

That's Peggy in the pink down there. Ashley's rowing scull is in the foreground--she brought it along so she can train for a competitive event in a couple weeks. She's only a few years younger than me, which calls me up short as I creak and groan through my day like the geriatric I'm fast becoming.

After spending a few minutes with Olivia's dad bemoaning another Braves collapse on television and remembering the great Rico Carty when I was a kid (I've written about him here before), I joined the line for a traditional spread of hot dogs, hamburgers, and ever side you could imagine. Then Peg and I refilled our glasses for a slow cruise in their little Boston Whaler around the perimeter of the lake with Steve and Ashley. Live couldn't have been any better.

Yesterday morning we decided to get a start before noon flying back to NY--the air conditioner still isn't fixed, and even at 6,000 feet it gets pretty hot up there. The flight was uneventful, a nice guy in a truck pulled up to let us through the gate, and soon we were on our way through rolling farm country to Ithaca for lunch at our favorite Korean restaurant. The town was buzzing with parents and kids there to visit Cornell--a fun vibe of poorly dressed people with lots of money. Lunch was all we'd hoped, and afterward we climbed back into the Caddy to drive up the western shore of Cayuga Lake, across through more farms and zipping around the Amish in their carriages out for a Sunday ride, then to Geneva, then Canandaigua, then to the Cliff where we took the elevator down to the beach, blew up our Wal-Mart dual floatie, and floated around holding hands in the frigid water.

All pretty great.

It makes me grateful for this new family I've lucked into, and a little sad that the one I was born into isn't this happy jumble of people with interesting jobs and stories, all kind to a fault to each other and genuinely enjoying each other's company in a beautiful place.

Breakfast arrives, then back to the awfulness of my professional life. See previous.

Selah