A wonderful, frustrating, sad, happy weekend...

[mapsedge]

I like working in the yard in cool weather because when it is cool and I am outside, I feel the need to light a fire. Saturday morning, under an occasional spitting mist, I pulled the firebox to the center of the yard, lit some kindling, broke the law by throwing on some leaves, and got to work cleaning up the back yard.

Katie came out eventually and kept me company, and kept the fire going by periodically adding wood bits and (more law breaking) handfuls of leaves.

After a couple of hours, Jami came out and broke the law some, himself.

Even though it's illegal to do so, the smell of burning leaves is one that I associate with the end of autumn, and I want my kids to experience that, too. Between playing with the kids, mowing twenty feet at a time before dumping the lawnmower catch-bag, raking, and just farting around, it took about four hours to clean the back yard. It was cool, a little misty, and fun.

I went inside to find that Michelle had made potato soup, a favorite from my childhood; it made me tear up, coming inside to that smell. Lunch was soup and homemade french bread. Trust me guys: marry a woman who can cook.

Then a shower to warm up and clean off; an incredible dinner and some social time with friends we don't see nearly often enough. Music, community cooking and drinking espresso, hanging wall art. My idea of heaven.

And the morning and the evening were the first day.

Sunday...wow, a mixed bag. Shaken and mixed. And stirred. I missed the beginning of the memorial service for Earline Campbell because of highway accidents and unfamiliarity with the incomplete signage on I-35, and thus missed my portion of it. (I still cringe to think of that; I hate missing gigs, no matter how small, and this, at least emotionally, wasn't small.) 151st St., is not marked on Southbound I-35 (KDOT: wake up, you bastards!), and there are no other exits until Gardner, another five or so miles down the road. An accident in a construction zone had us sitting in a three mile long backup for half an hour.

The portion of the service we were there for was very nice, many stories shared. I finally got to hear Tom speak, and his story was wonderful.

Afterward, dinner with friends, a much needed childless interlude that recharged my emotional batteries. If we take Sunday as the first day of the week, then let us call that a good start to my week.

And the morning and the evening were the second day.