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Time Flies

My, how Time flies!
Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.
So, if the line above is an example of  a “garden path sentence” or syntactic ambiguity or  a pun, a double entendre or an antanaclasis—well, it would be, wouldn’t it—possibly by that great linguist, Groucho Marx, these recent weeks have been an example of pandemonium! (from the Greek, all demons; a wild uproar)  One thing right after another.
Got the haircut for the class reunion.  Went to the class reunion.  Got new recipe ideas.  Didn’t look like the most infirm in attendance.  Successful reunion.
Went Wednesday morning to paint with the Friends of the Library.  The new storage shed—Amish-built—needed to match the main building, so, Friends that we were, a crew showed up to finish it off.  Whoaa!  Do you remember how hot it was that day?  Every low point on my body (and there are several of them) was dripping  by the time we finished.  The structure was virtually dry by the time that we got all of the way around and up to the peak of the front.  Wowzaah!
Thursday there was an appointment with a G-Man (How’s that for irony?) looking to pick my brain in   regards to a security clearance for a former student .  Nice man but there was a hitch.  I had told him to meet me at the PCDL—it’s a fine, open public place but quiet, not like the time that I talked to another government guy at McDonald’s—but I had forgotten that the library is closed on Thursday.  So, I sat out on the rock in front—remember how hot it was THAT day—to wait for him.  He had been tied up somewhere else and didn’t swing in until about  an hour later and we got the interview done pretty quickly.  I figured that I owed me a DQ Blizzard for that.
THEN there was the Bloodmobile at St.  Ambrose.  It was cool there but pretty busy (We could make it busier; there’s always a need for donors.).  Took a little longer than usual but there’s plenty of conversation floating around…interesting…and I always bring reading material.
Friday was pretty calm but my brother and his tribe arrived from  points west—New Mexico and Colorado—coming to Wellington for the Cheese Festival, where there was a sizable family contingent planning to compete (and I use that word fairly loosely) in the big Cheese Run on Saturday morning.  I was not to be among them but I thought that I might cheer somebody on.  Remember the thunder and lightning Saturday morning?   Well, that put paid to any thoughts of running and was a fairly severe blow to the festivities on the square in Wellington.  We—mom, the brother, the sister-in-law, the sister, the brothers-in-law, the nieces,  the nephew, the great nieces, the grand nephews (I’ve always thought of myself as an OK aunt , not necessarily that great, though I do have grand moments) all sat around and traded family stories while we ate and way past that.  Some of them wussed out and took the kids out to look around the barn and walk in the fields and splash in the creek.  One small one came back quite taken with the muddy feet she had; her mother was a little less so.
Then I set off for Garrettsville to hit the last of the graduation open houses.   I drove through some damp and nasty weather but emerged on the other side to a fine party going on and valet parking and warned the folks at the festivity of what might be coming and, sure enough, it did.  Poured down.  The outside –sitters sought spots on the porch and carried on…sign of a good party.
So I left there and decided to do some Trumbull County picking-up-stuff.  Remember the second wave of rain and all that came through?  Yes.  Well, this was my third or fourth encounter of this kind and I’m tired of it.  Got gas [not from the party]; came home.
Sunday featured the All-American James A. and Roena  McConnell Family Reunion at the Pittsfield Township Hall.  You know that camp song that always went, ”Second verse, same as the first, a little bit louder and a little bit worse” ?  Well, here it was : family, expanded.  Cousins plain, cousins once-removed,  second cousins, aunts and uncles( getting a little shy on those), roots and branches and twigs on the family tree.  Plenty of food (Broke my heart, one of my black raspberry pies met a terrible fate by falling off the back edge of the dessert table.  Had I known of it in time, I would have invoked the “ten-second rule”  and saved the good parts for personal consumption  but the neat-freaks among us disposed of the mess before  I found out.  Probably didn’t want deep maroon stains on a public facility).  Plenty of back-chat of all sorts between the various family groups.  Cute children.  Newest great niece had a fine time as her little ruffled dress got lifted up when she stood over the air conditioning vent, sort of like that famous Marilyn Monroe picture over the grating in New York.  We have pictures—do we ever.  Big round-robin catching-up session to update the whole crowd on who’s where, doing what.  A new wrinkle featured an auction—nothing’s silent in this crowd—to raise money   to boost the total in the scholarship fund that we have in honor of my grandparents.  A goodly sum was raised.  Aunt Jean’s pickles are definitely a treat worth bidding for—sweet & crunchy.  And, of course, there was homemade ice cream to finish off the event, just in case anyone was still hungry.
The clean-up didn’t take nearly as long as one might think; these people are used to cleaning up.  The drive home was uneventful—no rain, that was saved for Monday.  Next week, it’s Vacation Bible School.  Haven’t converted anyone yet.
Never a dull moment.

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