P+M Hit The Road

Reunions are especially precious now, wrinkles mark the unrelenting abuse earned by an endless cycle of oblivious and often misguided life choices. Well worn souvenirs covering brittle bones proving life hasn't been wasted on self preservation, but having clearly neglected and corrupted every last inch of it in the pursuit of living. Gathering with siblings brings an acute, bittersweet awareness of the acceleration of time even as the days slow and years fade. Ignorance is bliss I've heard and so we are a happy, clueless bunch. Reliving those awkward days of youth, indestructible and now paying the price with bodies more similar to Mother Teresa than the Flying Nun, our Catholic school days brutally preparing us for both ends of the spectrum. Tales told may or may not be entirely true, no worries, as the further you are from the actual event, so much further are you also from the actual truth. And so with arthritic, unbending limbs, thinning hair and foggy recollections we...

Unique as the stars above, gentle as a summer rain with just a touch of tornado in the mix. Cousins yes, closer to sisters I'd say, our four granddaughters are masters of mayhem and inherited (directly from their fathers) an uncanny flair for shenanigans. Grandma and Grandpa Camp is the ideal venue for the madness to begin, a rollicking adventure absolutely, but there are chores too, taking turns, manners, picking up, no princess passes. Sometimes rules, sometimes no rules. Girls chased out of the chaotic camper for a Grandma attitude adjustment, they find Grandpa. Forever a Boy Scout at heart, he instructs them in the fine art of axe chopping, shark attack, flipping pancakes and frying bacon on a Blackstone, fixes bikes and teaches them survival skills read from his very own well-worn Boy Scout manual, snake bite remedy, poison ivy identification, cowboy beans and weenies, they are hooked,  bedtime stories of the great outdoors instantly puts them to sleep. Last year during Gr...