September 15th, 2016

krazy koati

With your feet on the ground you're a bird in flight

Wednesday up north was our first day with the full complement of family there: me and bunny_hugger, her parents, her brother and his girlfriend. So that's when it might've been wise to start scheduling showers. Well, her parents get up crazily early and that relieved the pressure.

Her brother had already taken over the job of cooking, and after a few days wondering if we had maybe bought too many eggs and bread for the family spending a week in the house we shifted to wondering if we had enough. Omelets and toast, that sort of breakfast. You know how great that can be.

I remember this as the quietest of days, the one where we spent the least time trying to make sure we packed it with enough stuff to do. But then, if I'm working out the timeline correctly, this was also the day some greenbottle fly noticed that our pet rabbit was a large, tempting target and injected eggs into his ankle. (The full story's here; warning, some really gross medical stuff involved.) He's recovered from that, as best he can. And on the day we had no idea anything was going on or that he had anything but another couple days of sitting in the sun and chewing grass ahead of him. And he had a great time spending the days outside for his vacation.

After we got all organized we drove into Suttons Bay for the afternoon. This was our second trip there that vacation. But it gave bunny_hugger's brother and his girlfriend the chance to see town. Also we were there early enough to visit that garden-stuff store and wander around a densely packed net of statues and wind chimes and wall decorations and knicknacks and amusing signs and clocks and glass baubles and all sorts of things that make you wonder if there's really room for this anywhere in your house. There wasn't, not in ours, but there's something great in wandering around a shop like this when you don't have a bored eight-year-old in tow.

We went there in two cars, the better to get everyone there and to have lunch in the Village Inn. That's a century-plus-old restaurant and bar and I guess maybe there are or were hotel rooms there at some point? It seems possible, anyway. bunny_hugger and I had eaten there on our last trip, in an attempt to get the whitefish paté that the area's famous for. Last time they were out of it. This time I forget why we didn't actually get any. I had mentioned the pinball map indicated there had, at one point, been a table there but it was now gone; bunny_hugger double-checked to reassure her father we weren't overlooking it.

Sometime after lunch, and some wandering around town, and some ice cream, bunny_hugger's parents went back to the house. The rest of us stayed behind, for what really dominates my thoughts of the day. We spent almost all of it on the beach, bunny_hugger and I reading and trying to fly her kite. bunny_hugger's brother and his girlfriend walking around town some, spending a little time on the beach, just ... being there. Not having to do anything. It was hours, almost but not quite to sunset, of having no expectations that we should do anything, just read the local alt-weekly and the magazines we'd bought in Traverse City, and ponder the ladle that someone had abandoned on the beach. The Ladle District of the beach was a nicer spot than its reputation suggests.

We failed utterly to get bunny_hugger's kite aloft, despite a pretty good breeze all afternoon. She researched this problem later, and learned that if she was reading the trees correctly there was actually too much wind to launch a kite, at least of the kind we had. It didn't feel like that strong a breeze; who would've guessed?

In the evening bunny_hugger's brother discovered the house had a bunch of DVDs in the stand, and they got to watching Buster Keaton's The General. So I got to see people watching a Buster Keaton silent movie for the first time, which is about the only thing that compares to seeing a Buster Keaton silent movie for the first time.

Trivia: William Penn and eleven associates bought Sir George Carteret's ownership of the Province of East Jersey in 1683 for £3,400. Source: New Jersey From Colony To State, 1609 - 1789, Richard P McCormick.

Currently Reading: American Monsters: A History of Monster Lore, Legends, and Sightings In America, Linda S Godfrey.