2017 Part 4 - July and August

This is the fourth installment of my review of last year's family activities. My previous post covered the fine frenzy of friends that took place last June. Once all the guests were clear of the driveway, we settled in for some slower-paced family time. Starting at the lake.

July

After settling in at Wiser Times for the heart of the summer season, the fun began. First, this little guy showed up for the 4th of July celebration.

And who do you think he looks like. Maybe this other "little guy", from 70 years ago? Nice hat.

There were others of course, as like most celebrities Ian travels with an entourage. There's the primary care giver - Mom.

And the other primary care giver (and apprentice bartender) - Dad.

There were cookouts, family games, happy hours, movies and beach sessions. And the usual fitness routine highlighted by this favorite.

But mainly we took the opportunity to sit, relax, and enjoy the fine weather. As Ian is demonstrating in this gazebo shot.

Back in Grosse Pointe for a few days to check on the homestead, move our junk mail from the front door slot to the recycle bin, and perform a little yard maintenance, we discovered an unexpected package. In it was this, an anniversary gift from my mother and sister Wendy.

Wall art, especially items that light up and possibly blink, are sort of a passion in our family. Right up there with tacky deck lights and neon palm trees. Grateful that our wedding year had been memorialized in this artistic manner, we mounted this future heirloom in a place of honor - just below the large photos of Nancy and me in our Grosse Pointe family room. As the photos were taken the year we were married (in two of our favorite venues, mine at a Bob Douglas "Bob's Nob" karaoke party with me in a beard and bowling shirt doing my best Bob Seger impression, Nancy's in her grandmother's wicker rocker on the screen porch at Ipperwash), we felt the placement was perfect. Perhaps even destiny. A constant and restorative reminder of where it all started, and how with a little effort it can always be.

But enough of my maudlin musings. Back to the story. Later in the month the Texas clan flew into town for a visit, this time in the Pointes. I had the chance to spend some time at the park pool with Cyrus and Leili, an activity that got high marks from the clients as you can tell from this  pic.

In this shot I am explaining to Leili why Grandpa always swims with a hat (from her vantage point the ever-expanding bald spot is not so obvious). She was sympathetic. Cyrus on the other hand, was too engaged in underwater exploration to notice.

They both loved the slide, as you might expect. Here Leili is patiently waiting for Cyrus to come shooting out of the slide so they can both go for it again. I took a pass on this undoubtedly exhilarating activity as I didn't want to get my hat wet. Nor do I really go in for exhilaration. I get all of that I need from my various medical specialists.

Aside from pruning up at the pool, there was time for other activities. Like catching up with cousin Ian.

Celebrating Aunt Cathy's birthday.

And gathering 'round for a family photo. On the sofa from left to right we have son-in-law Matt, grandson Ian, daughter Cathy, granddaughter Leili, Ted's partner Summer, son Ted and grandson Cyrus. Standing from the left are yours truly, my bride Nancy and daughter Christine.

August

I started the month with a quick trip to Florida to check on my mother and retrieve a few (secret) family heirlooms (a discussion for a later post).

Then it was back to the lake and the great drift log caper of 2017. Here I am with this flotsam beauty, that has to weigh several hundred pounds as it could not be budged from its new home in the middle of the Wiser Times beach.

Fortunately, our good friends the Reinharts were due up for a visit the following weekend. So after lulling them into a relaxed state with a little water play,

I cleverly asked them if they noticed anything different about the beach. As they are a family of pretty sharp cookies, they quickly responded with something like, "you mean that big honkin' log we had to drag the kayaks around?" Jeff went right to work, surmising without any further hinting that it would be better if the log were somewhere else. There was some axe work.

And some saw work.

Some small victories.

Some pulling, with Miranda and I pitching in.

And finally a bit of "put your back into it" rolling.

Finally, with a couple of eight foot or so sections removed from the main body and relocated to the neighbors' section of the beach (a well-known flotsam disposal technique), we declared victory and went for a beach walk.

There will be a little more on the great log caper later on this summer, but at this point the "fun" element of log whacking and rolling had faded away. Even for the industrious Reinharts.

Back in the Pointes for another check-in on city life, there was a little excitement. First up was Christine becoming a homeowner. She took possession of the delightful condo in Warren that she had purchased in July. Two bedrooms, one and a half baths, nice size living room, comfortable kitchen and dining area, dishwasher, laundry and roomy rec room on the lower level. Plus a nice enclosed patio area at the rear along with two covered parking spots. Everything she wanted, and more. More to follow on her cozy new digs in a future post, but for now we have this first photo of Christine and her good buddy Coco taking a break from moving to enjoy the moment. Before the horrors of home ownership settle in (just kidding; well, mostly).

Back in Grosse Pointe we had a little action of our own. Those of you familiar with our backyard will remember an old privet hedge running along the east side of our driveway across from the garage. We have always looked on this venerable vegetation as a mixed blessing. On the plus side, over its long life it has consistently and successfully defended its portion of the yard from numerous canine escape attempts. It has also proved effective at trapping errant basketball rebounds and keeping them from bouncing next door and annoying the neighbors. In addition, when properly trimmed it has improved the look of the back yard, nicely complementing the colorful deck planters and the extensive backyard gardens.

On the down side, the hedge has never learned to trim itself (I admit that our expectations may have been a little high on this point). This has led to countless hours of the family gardener (my poor bride) having to drag out the electric hedge trimmer along with its supporting cast (50' extension cord, safety goggles, garden gloves, scoot seat and knee pads) to do battle. Among the many gardening chores with which Nancy is saddled blessed, this is the only one she has complained about on a regular basis. So despite its good points, the hedge's days have always been numbered.

Enter the neighbors' desire to have a fully fenced backyard to contain their little dog Toffee, who is just small and mischievous enough to work her way through the hedge into our yard about every other day. This despite our ongoing efforts to reinforce the hedge's twisted and gnarly branches with embedded garden fencing. Further bad news for the hedge is that the neighbor is a skilled carpenter with a knack for fencing. So after 30 plus years of standing its ground, last August this worn out old soldier was summarily ripped from the earth, cut into two-foot lengths, and unceremoniously dragged down the concrete mile to the curb. Poor baby. Here's a shot of the hedge from a few years ago in all its tired glory, serving as a bird feeder venue.

And the post-hedge look of this hallowed ground, with post holes prepped and waiting to receive their charges (there are no pictures of the actual arboreal mayhem out of respect for the victim).

Here the posts have been delivered and are being set in concrete. No turning back now.

The concrete required a curing period before further work could be undertaken, so we'll leave this event for now and move on to the rest of August. Next up, Christy's birthday with the usual cake and candles.

Then back to the lake for our annual Music Night listening room weekend (see previous post LDLR for a brief history of this event). First there was a little primping, like hanging this new Tigers flag (the old one had been shredded by the sun and Lake Huron winds).

Readying of the fleet, of course.

And polishing of the new wind spinner (the first one you may recall was blown to bits by those same lake winds).

Mother Nature had done her part, too, by bringing the wild phlox that grows around the deck into full bloom.

Due to a number of scheduling conflicts, the head count for this year's event was a bit smaller than usual, but a solid core group made it up to the cottage. Here's a pic of our canine members, Abby and Coco, mutt-ering about how the smaller group would likely mean fewer food droppings around the dinner table.

In this pic the leaner but still intense music weekend group is sitting for the traditional dinner shot. From left to right we have Quinton Anderson, daughter Christine, Deandra Reinhart, hostess Nancy, Jim Wyatt, Mary Wyatt, Miranda Reinhart and yours truly.

As the weekend came to an end and the guests headed back to the city and their day jobs, Wiser Times powered down to its normal serene and seductive self, as indicated by the shot below of the now idle beach gathering area. Time to rest, enjoy a little peace and quiet by the soothing waters, and await the next round of visitors.

Of course what was left of this fellow was still there. Though scarred from battle and a tad smaller, you can just hear him faintly laughing to himself and looking forward to the next opportunity to embarrass those who would displace him. Like an overbearing guest, playing the role of "the thing that wouldn't leave".

Meanwhile back in the Pointes, remember these guys from May? The famous gas explosion?

 

We returned home for a few days and found them back, this time repairing the concrete. After the gas line was fixed in May, the crew covered the various holes with sand and a top layer of gravel. With this visit they fixed the neighbor's drive way.

And the portion of the street that had been ripped open.

Of course they brought along their usual neat toys to impress passersby. The cement truck.

The fancy truck and trailer cache of hand tools, orange cones and other road work gadgetry.

And believe it or not, one of those cute little diggers that caused the problem in the first place. I don't think it was the same operator, though. That would have just been asking for trouble.

Friends of these boys would return a couple of months later to replace the sod on the boulevard that was torn up during the explosion, but alas there is no photographic record of that final phase. So here endeth the story of the great gas explosion of twenty seventeen. However, it would not be the last visit the power company would make to the Burk residence last year. That story will be coming to a post near you in the not too distant future.

This takes us to the end of August and the end of this post. Talk to you again soon.

2017 Part 3 - June

When I left off last time at the end of May, I was consoling new grandson Ian who was trying to regain feeling in his feet after a brief forced-wade into chilly Lake Huron. We pick things up back in GPW.

June

As usual, we kicked off the summer social season by inviting everyone we know to a picnic in our backyard. The weather was nice, the deck and the yard were in prime shape, the burgers and dogs were laid in, and the beer and soft drinks were iced down. So let's see who made it this year.

First a shot of the hosts, enjoying a cold one and a quick snack before the crush.

Our guest of honor was (big surprise) little Ian. Here he is, tiny tootsies totally t'awed out, with his escort.

Leisurely through late afternoon the guests rolled in, each bearing a culinary delight and a festive aura. Here Jim and Mary have settled in for a little pre-glow with Cathy, Matt, Ian and yours truly.

The Dyles and Kims were there soon after, complete with a sizable lump swaddled around Taryn. That would be little Toby, the Dyles' first grandson.

And so on. Each new guest was warmly greeted by those already in attendance in the formal reception area (also known as our multipurpose room, or more commonly as...the driveway).

As guest of honor, Ian met and offered a smile to each arrival (this activity significantly expanded his known universe of people in the world).

I assumed my normal party position, keeping out of everyone's way and enjoying the ebb and flow of people, foodstuffs and libations (for more on proper behavior when your home is overrun with merriment see my previous post Hosting; you too can work less and enjoy it more).

Here Grandma is assisting Ian with his greeter duties (perhaps foreshadowing a little ambidexterity, note that Ian has shifted to left-handed waving, now that his right hand - weary from greeting so many new acquaintances - is hanging limp by his side).

And even the most enthusiastic of greeters needs a little quiet time, with his favorite giraffe.

As the afternoon unfolded, a number of stimulating conversations broke out on a variety of picnic-related issues. Like this one where Christine is explaining to the hostess and the chef the Feng Shui guidelines for organizing types of meat on a gas grill (the rules are slightly different for charcoal grills; it's important to get your karma right were food is concerned).

In this shot Linda Mathews, Kit Kuhlman and Miranda Reinhart are chewing on that old deck chair leg-crossing controversy, right over left or left over right? Some say it may be a generational thing.

 

Here we have Deandra and Jeff Reinhart and Christine, all platinum members of the Coco dog care cartel, comparing notes from recent sitting experiences. Jeff, also known in dog circles as "the bad man", is seeking some feedback on how he might improve his image.

Here we have Brian Bauer and Pat Rouan, both members of the Spinner Executive Council (a local amateur golf therapy group), debriefing me (off camera) on my traumatic experience at the Gailes Links Course the previous fall, during our annual retreat. They're hoping to restore my enthusiasm for Herculean challenges in time for next fall's traumatic experience. Note the concerned looks. They're both princes (or maybe marquises, you know like that guy De Sade).

In this scene Linda Crandall is making a public appeal for assistance as she has misplaced her wine glass. Mary and Deandra are engrossed in a conversation about appropriate picnic outfits - skirt or capris - and perhaps the leg-crossing thing as well.

Here Linda is briefly overcome as Jim (our in-house Mr. Fixit) has located and refilled her glass for her (although he failed to inform her that he found the glass in Coco's crate).

In this shot, Laura and Mary are closely following the ongoing conversation about my links course dementia taking place just to their left in the pavillion (garage). From their grimaces you can tell that they know the dialog is at a critical juncture.

And here we have a shot from the hidden garage-cam (tucked discreetly in the handle of a weed whacker). Brian, as lead therapist, has just about got me ready to commit. But I'm not quite there yet, as you can see from the death grip I have on my Bud Lite. I think this is the point at which I was asking about emergency counseling services available at the course (known in golf therapy circles as the 19th hole) should they be needed.

Meanwhile, back at the security checkpoint, our safety officer is hard at work trying to rub the taste of a little pinot noir off her tongue.

Back at the picnic, the tension mounted as we neared grill time. Below, Kit and Miranda are burning off a little energy in a multigenerational bean bag toss challenge. Note that Miranda has adopted the seldom used Queen Elizabeth twisted wrist delivery.

In this shot Nancy is checking entry bracelets to make sure none of the locals have crashed the party just in time for dinner. We've never had that problem, but protocol is protocol.

This is a rare shot of chef Jim during his pre-grill interview. He was confident going into the main event of the day that his flipping wrist would hold up through the arduous cheeseburger phase, and that he had recruited a sufficient cadre of bun managers and table delivery runners to keep up with demand. You gotta love a guy who leaves no stone (or in this case brat) unturned.

In this final pic of the great pot bunker paranoia caper (as it has since become known), Pat has joined Brian to close the deal (I committed to another round at the Gailes in the fall). The clincher was Pat agreeing to shank one into the unplayable rough every time I do in a show of solidarity. It was a touching moment.

As is our custom, photography was suspended during the dinner hour so no one would lose their place in line for Robyn's baked beans - we always seem to run out of them early in the bacchanalia.

After dinner, the crowd seemed to mellow, stuffed with grilled meats, the beans, assorted salads and desserts, finger food, and a fresh round of libations. I must say though simple in nature, the menu at our annual food fest is to die for. Everybody brings their favorite stuff, and then there's the consummate grilling. It's better than a Leave It to Beaver marathon.

Here's a post-dinner pic of Linda Mathews and Robyn Mullinger (the bean queen). Among other things, I think Linda was welcoming Robyn to the sisterhood of grandmothers.

And speaking of grandmothers, here's a shot of Grandma Nancy facilitating Ian's greeting of little Toby, still swaddled to mother Taryn. Not a lot of words were exchanged, but there seemed to be a connection.

To wrap up our tour of the annual family picnic, here are a few more shots of the happy hoard making the most of the moment. First up Linda and Kit, doing their Joe (or Josephine) Cool impressions.

Here I'm spreading the word about my upcoming Gailes Links course adventure to the Reinhart clan, letting them know how I love a challenge and can't wait to stand on the first tee and gaze out at the narrow fairway and undulating green and gigantic gnarly head-high bunkers where you can lose your cart let alone a golf ball. Okay. Okay. Maybe I was just asking Jeff if he would hit my tee shots for me. Jeff, who is now an associate member of the Spinner Executive Council and quite familiar with my personal relationship with the Gailes, just said sure. And hit Pat's cell phone number on his speed dial.

Little Ian was also feeling the buzz of party central, reflecting on his greeter performance and worrying about remembering everyone's name.

Christine, family morale officer, spent a little time comforting the poor lad and assuring him that being extremely cute solves a lot of problems in life and he ought not to worry.

In this shot we have core members of the next generation catching up on millennial issues. That's Cathy with her back turned on the left, Taryn (and Toby's pate), Toby's papa Sam, Ian's papa Matt, and Sara Zak with her back turned on the right. Sara is one of Cathy's oldest friends, Neighborhood Club soccer team mate, schoolmate, college roommate and veteran of a couple of Burk family vacations. I must note here that Nancy and I have always felt that the best thing about our annual picnic is how many members of the next generation (and now third generation) make the effort to come back each year and renew relationships. And we certainly love seeing and and following the lives and careers of these kids who have been hanging out around our house since elementary school.

In this final shot from the picnic, hostess Nancy and chef Jimmy are reviewing comments from the customer satisfaction focus groups held during the day and reveling in another successful event. I think the future of this tradition, now in its fourth decade, is secure. 

After the picnic, we settled in for some other pretty typical June activities, like picking Maple tree helicopters out of the gutters. These guys are slow but thorough, and they work cheap.

A trip to Toledo to visit our friends John and Patricia Wast and take in a Mudhens game (this one featuring my sister Cindy's favorite ex-Tiger Matt Tuiasosopo, known as Tuey to his fans).

Then there were these guys who descend on our community with abandon each June. We're just thankful that they usually wait until after our picnic to make their unwelcome appearance. Their only redeeming virtue is that they disintegrate and disappear on their own within a matter of a few days, as mysteriously as they come.

We did have some lake time in June, highlighted by a visit from our Tennessee friends, Jan and Miguel Rodriguez. Miguel loves to cook, so he brought with him all the makings for a boiled dinner. I should clarify that Miguel doesn't really cook. Rather, he creates culinary art. Here he is poised for action.

Beginning to weave his masterpiece.

His partner, in the kitchen and all things, Jan. 

The boil-ees, as it were. Snug and soaking in this family heirloom known as the Ipperwash corn pot.

The customary cocktail hour, spanning that interlude between meal creation and meal consumption.

The scene of the anticipated gluttony, spread with newspapers and appropriate tableware.

The delivery.

And voila! Let the feast begin! Need I say, it was fab.

So June came to an end as it began - friends, food, frivolity -  and a couple of Tums.

This wraps up Chapter 2 of my 2017 review. See you soon for the second half of the year.