Glide and Sting
We had a great weekend at the cabin. Linus had spent the previous week with Jane's parents in Luverne, MN, and so we were reunited with him. It's great for him (and for us) for him to have time with either set of grandparents, but it's always great to get the family back together. He needs to go have his own adventures, even at age four.
The weekend was a family reunion of sorts--all of Jane's mother's family was at the cabin. Linus and Lily and I met lots of the family that was new to us; Jane saw cousins she hadn't seen in many years.
But of all the great things this weekend, seeing new family, being reunited with Linus, two things stood out.
The first: Jane and I went out on our canoe late Sunday night and watched a beautiful sunset. Our cabin is down among the trees, and so you sometimes don't get a sense of the sky unless you are out on the water. The water was smooth as glass, as we sat silently and listened to the birds and watched the sky turn a turquoise and orange. The water was so calm, one paddle push propelled us from 50 feet out all the way to the beach. It was a quiet moment, and nothing all that spectacular, but it was just one of those times that I knew I would remember for a long time: Sitting in that canoe with Jane, gliding through the dark as we listened to the crickets.
The second: Our friends Brad and Katy came over for dinner last night. As darkness came down, Brad and I started to move a woodpile from our curb to the back of our yard. As we threw the logs from the wheelbarrow, Brad yelped out in pain. He had been stung in the face by a hornet or yellowjacket or something (but they weren't bees, and they weren't wasps). Then he got hit again, on his calf. I screamed "Let's get out of here!", and we high-tailed it to the kitchen, much to the wonderment of our wives, who only heard Brad yelping and snorting and bucking around like Ferdinand, with me close behind. Once in the light of our kitchen, I discoverd that there were two of these things clinging to my shirt. I cried out "They're on me!", and I peeled my shirt off. Brad simultaneously discovered that he had one inside his own shirt, which stung him on the chest. He frantically peeled off his shirt and kicked it toward the door.
Final count: Brad stung three times, Doug stung none. I was spared. Brad sent me a note earlier this morning informing me that his calf, head and chest had swelled to unnatural proportions.
The wood and the wheelbarrow are right where they were when Brad first got stung, abandoned as we fled in terror.
10:37:33 AM 
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