Some people have all the luck…

Reid is in England for his short-term work stint.  Some people have all the luck.   Poor kid has a nice apartment smack in the middle of central London (hopefully with his own ‘loo’), Wimbledon is on not far from his temporary digs, England made it to the knock out round of the European soccer championship and, of course, the run-up for the Olympics is gaining steam.  Tough gig for a single guy.  I just wish he’d stay in touch with us on this side of the pond.

My living room is clogged with camping stuff in preparation for the trek in the Bridger Wilderness (note: we still have room for late comers, July 21-27) but there was no mention of it for the first time in a while in last week’s letter and there was scant mention of it in the letter that was mailed just this morning.  The tinder-dry conditions are some cause for concern; unlike last year, there will be no fires on which to char-broil trout.  Instead, we’ll make do with a white gas stove to heat water for pasta and beans and flash-fry brookies.  Alas, my ancient but trusty40 year old MSR model A stove was lost during the move six years ago so a newer WhisperLite will have to suffice.  I’ll no doubt get into the Bridger goings-on a little more in the note to the kids next week.

Here is what was deposited in last week’s mail (although Reid got his via email late in the week):

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June 18, 2012

Ellen/Reid: Monday has gotten off to a decent enough start but all that can crumble in the space of a few ‘do this…or ‘what do you think of this?…’ emails.  But none of those have come in so all things as of this moment are BAU (business as usual in bank parlance).

No sense mailing letters to your Chicago address until you return, Reid.  You’ll have to open your email to read them.  By the time this goes into the mail to Ellen, your plane will have already jetted east to London.  You get all the fun trips.  India.  England.  No doubt you will figure out a way to take the Chunnel beneath the channel to Paris or other mainland location.  Heck, I would too, if I were you.  Sad to say there is probably no chance for your old man to get over there for even a few days.  The schedule just won’t allow it.  I put on my blog this morning that if you were over there until, say, October or November then the odds of a visit would increase noticeably.  But not right now.  Too much going on.  The one thing you need to do is send us photos and whatnot of where you are and what you’re doing.  People ask and all I can say is “I dunno.”  So keep your mom and I posted on your comings and goings.

Ellen, your running cavalcade of photos of Emma has been just darling.  It’s just like being there.  Okay, not quite but it’s a great substitute for being hundreds of miles away.  She has just changed so much.  She’s putting on a nice amount of weight and her little smile is showing some personality.  Believe me, it’s hard to remember them (i.e. you and your brother) at this age once you guys reach the Terrible Teens.  I’ve got the framed ones here and there throughout the place.

We had a great 27 hours going down and back to Tybee Island, Georgia.  A ride that’s long but not too long.  The weather was incredible.  We didn’t do a whole hell of a lot.  A few drinks and some so-so seafood at a beach bistro, accompanied by a duo performing old standards on acoustic guitars.  That was a riot.  Some of the patrons really got into it.  We had breakfast at a classic old diner then did a couple of short walks on the beach, walked a little more once we rode back through Savannah (worth the visit) and then took a two lane road 40 miles into Hilton Head, where the traffic was just bonkers.  It was miles and miles of stop-and-go for most cars.  We really noticed the backup as we came out of HH Saturday afternoon on the return ride to Charlotte.  We stopped to check out the timeshare (no news there; I have squandered the resource but am trying to figure out how to use it) and had a nice meal and cool drinks over at the Westin.  That was fun.  I could have nodded off at the table but it was time to hit the road again.  We had a leisurely ride back to North Carolina.

We are looking forward to the trip to St. Paul in mid July.  Felicia has been through the airport but never really set foot on Minnesota ground.  We’ll be there just long enough to not seem overbearing.

Picked the first honest-to-goodness tomatoes we’ve ever had.  The secret must’ve been the patio variety because the Big and Better Boys really just never got going in the big pots.  There’s a bumper crop on the vine right now, believe you me.  They don’t get real big, not quite the size of a tennis ball, but that’s a far cry from the ping pong ball size the last few years.  Toss some of these tomatoes with a little basil and garlic, and you’ve got some nice pesto.  Glad to hear you had your first ripe raspberry.  Next year you should have oodles of the red rubies.  You might go online to see if you need to cut those canes back.  I’m guessing so but don’t quote me.

Well, over and out from North Carolina.  It’s getting warmer here, and warmth gives way sooner than later to boiler room heat.  We may have to start dunking ourselves into the pool.  The water level may rise, given my gain in weight.  Hope nobody harpoons me.

Mistress of all she surveys…

This time next week, Reid will be in London to begin his first international work venture.  He’s landed a short term assignment to oversee a digital something-or-other project.   His skills will indeed span an ocean.  Sure, he missed the queen’s 60th jubilee by a couple of weeks but in his spare moments he can wander over toward the Olympic venues.  I suppose there’s no bad time to be in Britain but this would seem a particularly great time.  The wheels are turning toward a short visit to the kid.  The letter written today will be the last he receives on paper for a while.  He’ll get his by email attachment while he’s across the pond.

I’m bored. Tend to my needs or feed me, one of the two.

Then there’s Emma.  The 24 hour all-Emma-all-the-time channel is still in the works, but the little wonder continues to elbow her way to the top of Ellen-Tim society.  She’s gaining weight, cementing her position as the mistress of all she surveys, and becoming accustomed to ruling the roost.  Gramps is all for that.  It didn’t take long for her photos to be displayed prominently throughout the house.

Fittingly, Reid and his niece highlight last week’s letter:

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June 4, 2012

Ellen/Reid: The work week got off to a rocky start (as if starting at 6:15 Eastern every morning isn’t rocky enough) although things have smoothed out since the early pandemonium.  Still a few hours to go but the placid waters could change if someone else’s heartbeat quickens and their problem becomes my problem.  Actually, I do work with a capable bunch of good people.

I figured out why the little blue birds died.  They got drenched in cold water.  They adjusted the lawn sprinkler system, and two of the strong streams of water take a direct pass right over the hole in the bird house.  I didn’t notice that until this morning and that rankles me.  Water was literally running out the bottom of the box.  Blue birds were re-nesting, and they’ve gone away because the (^&%$@# sprinkler comes on twice a day.  I’ll take birds over a green lawn any day.

Man, Reid, you will be in London near the peak of Olympic festivities.  What an absolute madhouse that place is going to be for nearly your entire time there.  But I suppose that is half the fun, rubbing shoulders with the rest of the world.  I’ll send a note to Mike Hill to see if he’ll have time to have a cold one with you.  Not certain of my travel plans there but it would be a great short trip to take if you have a floor available for sleeping.  A couch with a pillow would be what I’m used to.  Still unclear is what the heck you will be doing over there by day.  I didn’t have my wits about me to ask you about that.  My bad to leave England off the list of countries you’ve visited.  No doubt it won’t be the last.

The photos of Emma should arrive any day now, and already I’m ruing the dull-headed lapse of no wallet size shots to foist on my friends who ask to see her.  What a dang oversight that was.  A lot of good 5×7 shots will do sitting in the house.  I’ll send the photographer a new order to ship some down this way.  That is certain to double the thickness of my wallet.  Nothing wrong with ample supplies of granddaughter photos.  According to informed sources (Felicia and others) it isn’t uncommon for babies to be cranky in the 5 – 8 p.m. timeframe.  She will get over that soon enough.  It’s just heartening to see she is gaining some weight and putting a little beef on herself.  This past weekend, one of the people who asked to see Emma’s photos said her daughter is expecting, but to break the news of the baby’s sex, the expectant couple will host a cake-type of unveiling party.  Their doctor gives the parents a sealed envelope containing the baby’s sex which the parents take to a bakery.  The baker makes a cake that is either pink or blue on the inside and covers it with white frosting.  The ‘sex’ is unveiled when the cake is cut.  Is there nothing that escapes the clutches of the wedding industry in its pursuit of making a fast buck?  It’s total insanity but I wish that was my idea.

The lettuce garden that has faithfully furnished lettuce every day for weeks is on its last legs.  That’s the way it goes.  It goes to bolt (seed) and that’s the end of it.  But the patio tomato plant is beginning to come on like gangbusters.  The fruit are about the size of a racquetball but that is a serious upgrade from the total, utter and abject failure of tomatoes in years gone by.  It provides a little bit of hope that for once there will be delicious BLTs at some point this summer.  In a tip of the hat to my doctor, the bacon will be of the turkey variety.

Okay, the call of work is still loud and clear.  It must be answered.  I’ll be in touch again in short order.  Emma and London aren’t such bad topics to talk about.