October 30, 2004
Here I've sat, longer than my wearied eyes should have known, in and out of writing and reading. The jagged shock of rain beats sidways on the windows, carried angrily on the temper of this thunderstorm, and yet, all I find is peace.Peace in a perfect day.
To my absolute elation, my previous route has been restored. Highway 59 is again open and despite the replacement of my quaint little stop sign by a traffic light in North Prairie, I am all together over joyed. I drove the entire way to the Lake with my windows down, blasted the new 80's radio station and screamed 'WOO HOO!' at the mere sight of this recently remodeled section of my journey.
I arrived at the Lake around 2:00 p.m. with two bouquets of flowers, a Halloween balloon and a personally manufactored 'Comedy Card' for my Mother's Birthday. The first bouquet, of beautiful, rich fall colors, was set out on the table. The second, her birthday bouquet, colored in purple and yellow with three Iris' (the very flower that reminds me of my mother), was placed in her bedroom. I delight in imagining her wake up in the morning to this arrangement on her dresser, especially in these cold months upon us. And there were little gifts for everyone this day...
As a special treat for my father, I brought him my unread Journal Sentinel (how a newspaper can excite a member of our family is rather qualitative, but considering the content of their Janesville Gazette, one can fully empathize) and while he was out and about yesterday, he bought ME one of my favorite treats in the entire world - cream puffs! But enough of all of these niceties; we had some serious pumpkin carving to attend to!
I lugged in three pumpkins from various outside locations and placed "The Nightmare Before Christmas" in the VCR (a ritual viewed by mother and daughter respectively and marking the official commencement of carving). Now, my mother is a diligent pumpkin face maker and procurred a most evil, wide mouthed grin on our largest orange orb with absolute ease and perfection. I, on the other hand, obsess over such tasks and therefore found myself wrapped into two hours of my medium sized canvas. At the unveiling of my hard work, I found the pumpkin's face to aptly resemble my Statistics professor...
C'est la vie.
We gathered the pumpkin seeds and toasted them in the oven just before cocktail hour. The weather still being most agreeable, we set up for 'relaxation mode' outside on the deck, regarding this as likely the last evening for such grand pleasures. I toted all of my European maps and notes and practiced at the few French phrases while my father imparted his basic knowledge of Paris. Having had a decent amount of exposure to French while in Vietnam, he was able to pass on quite a few nifty words (with their proper pronunciation as opposed to my mangled version). He also offered to take John and myself to the airport as well as pick us up upon our return next month. How perfect and ingratiating! I accepted with an overly enthused nod of the head and a grin almost as large as the one occupying my mother's newly carved pumpkin. Laughter from our party bellowed into the trees and drifted over the water, echoing back from the other side... Vous heureux.
My father procurred a book of the Louvre, commented over my maps and pointed out a most facsinating fact... "Back down the 'Ol Boul Mich'" by Robert Service (part a poem, which is located here in my diary) is in reference to the Michell Blvd. in Paris!! And I noted that if one takes that Blvd. north, you can cross the famous Pont Nuef (bridge nine) and stand basically in front of the Louvre! A most desirable route that I should very much hope to encounter. Can you fathom my excitment?
After our delicious dinner of Cabonara and homemade bread, we resumed our discussions of Europe and story telling with a highly spirited degree of delight. I found the occasion perfect to request my presentation of my mother's birthday card and began preparations of this oratated gift. We gathered in my parent's bedroom (as my mother was rather tired and ready for bed) while they sat on the bed and I stood on a chair acquired from the kitchen. My father brought out the digital camera and created a home movie of the entire ordeal as I recited my poem with affected joy. Luckily, I was stable enough to remain balanced on the chair and perform my little program without err. A most pleasant scene thus resulted; with hugs, kisses and my mother's gracious tears of happiness. Convivial and content, the Johnson family this night...