The party last night… what a good time was had by all! It turned out that most of my cousins (of mine and the next younger generation) were there in addition to a bunch of my niece Sydnee’s friends and in-laws. The food was fabulous – Syd’s husband Eric is fond of Indian food so there were a lot of interesting items to choose from.

The house was amazing – stuck up on the mountainside with a creek roaring down a little gully alongside, with several decks and great views of the valley through tall pine trees (kind of a rarity in that part of the valley, they must have been planted in the 60’s to be so big). It was great hanging out with so many family members; the memories were coming thick and fast in my head, since in my childhood (especially before my dad and my mom’s brother Charlie died) there were a lot more times we got together, and all the cousins and I were kids, so we’d play together while the adults partied. This party was decidedly upscale and “done right,” and there were snacks and beverages available in every major room and on the decks, too. It was a cold night with occasional rain or hail coming down so we couldn’t spend much time outside, but for a while it was very nice to stand on the covered deck on the lower level, drink a beer, and watch the hail “ping!” off of an abstract metal hanging sculpture. It was a nice place to hang out and escape all the crowds.

My mom had a great time seeing everyone, including a family friend from England who was certainly overjoyed to see all of us. We visited with my cuz Bill and alerted him to our return in June for the road trip – he insists that the family cabin is not the vermin-infested hovel it appeared to be the last time we visited him up there, and that all the beds have sheets and electric blankets on them, instead of Coleman sleeping bags (with ducks on!) older than I am. Mom yakked on and found a place to be surrouned by family on the leather couch downstairs, David took a lot of pictures of people being funny, and there was a gorgeous brindled boxer named Oscar bounding around being our dog for the evening. Great fun. We left at midnight and brought Mom home.

This morning after a somewhat disappointing breakfast at the B&B (the innkeepers took off for the night and left a neighborlady in charge of feeding the pets and us, in that order) we dropped in at Mom’s and took her to Home Despot to pick up some annuals to put in the little flower bed in front of the porch. Then she took off to go to the baby shower, and we stayed to stick the flowers in and relax. I’ve gotten all but the 3 biggest plants in and decided I needed a break, a drink of water, and some time away from dirt for awhile.

It’s so strange being in the house. It looks the same, it sounds the same, but it doesn’t smell the same. The last time I spent any time here was probably before David and I met, because all our visits since then have been as a couple, and we stayed with either Tudy or Timmy, because they had bigger guest rooms (with doors that could actually be closed). Mom’s always been kind of disappointed that we weren’t staying with her ever, but I think I’ve explained before our problem with staying in a room with a double bed (oof!) and a door that pops open unexpectedly (or just won’t shut all the way at all, eep!). So this time I was determined to spend more hanging out time here.

So. It doesn’t smell right. It’s got that funny old-people smell that I noticed in the neighbors’ houses when I was a kid and went visiting. Suddenly this acrid scent-memory of my childhood has been transferred to my mother’s house, and it’s a bit jarring and strange. Also, all the trees are way, way too big. Trees that I remember as saplings (or remember planting as little sticks) are now fully grown and mature. My playhouse was taken down and thrown out, so now there’s a bare patch in the middle of the backyard, which is otherwise a wilderness of lumpy lawn (pocket gophers? Secret government agency sappers?) and weedy side beds. If there were ever a candidate for Ground Force America, my mom’s yard is IT.

Some things don’t change. I can still hear the mournful minor-chord wail of freight trains from miles away, down in the valley. The birds still sing a happy trilling song, different from the one the same species sing at home in Illinois. Mom has lots of windchimes going, and as it’s currently sunny in the living room with the door to the patio open, and the soporific mantel clock ticks away the seconds, the house at least sounds like home.

Mom just returned from the shower, so we’re about to get motivated to get out to dinner later… and I do have 3 more plants to get in. Although my back and tummy were alternately aching or burbling from kneeling bent over.

More later, maybe or maybe not. We think we’ll get out again tomorrow and go up in the mountains.

I noticed that on David’s laptop, the graphic on the header looks way crappy. Rats. I tried to fix it and made it look even crappier. That’ll have to wait until I get home.