That's Not a Creeper! It's Your Dad.

Hello, friends!

E watching Grandpa do the moonwalk.

I missed a few days writing. I blame my parents. Ha! No, not really… They came across the lake for the weekend, and I feel like we did so much that I’m still recovering. Even though my mom came down with a summer cold/flu before she arrived, we kept busy. They got to our house on Friday evening before E’s bedtime. The hotel where they usually stay was booked for the weekend, so Dad brought two "army-issued" cots to set up in our dining room.

On Saturday morning, we went out for brunch, then stopped at the health food store to try some natural remedies for Mom’s flu symptoms – specifically a bad throat infection. My dad had been on a week-long journey to find balsam pitch. He remembered my great-grandfather using it to soothe a sore throat. He had already scoped out our property for balsam firs hoping to naturally harvest some. No luck, so we bought some Thayers’ lozenges, an all-natural throat spray, and some wellness pills.

We got home and drugged up Mom on everything nature had provided us in lieu of balsam pitch. Then she camped out on her cot for most of the afternoon. Meanwhile, Dad and Mark went to the gun shop to buy rifle ammunition. And I now realize that I’ve composed this post in a way that sounds like my mother was so sick that they were considering having to put her down... No, no, they just like to go do manly things like visit the gun shop while we ladies take our afternoon refreshment.

Mark came back with some new ammo and a present for me – some pepper spray! Ever since I started my physical-therapist-assigned walking routine, I’ve found myself on some back roads with a creeper or two. I was happy to have some protection!

Dad came back with some beef, fresh vegetables, and beef broth. He had stopped at the grocery store and planned to make a stove-top potroast. He must have needed a task to keep busy. He went to work chopping and dicing then set the meal to simmer… for 3+ hours.

Meanwhile, Mom had fallen asleep on her cot. E had woken up from her nap and asked to go for a walk in her “stoller.” I asked Mark and Dad if they wanted to go. Mark got his shoes on, but Dad said he had to watch the roast. Ok! Once outside, I pushed E across our parking lot to a back road that runs behind our building. Mark strolled along beside me, and we chatted. About fifteen minutes later, we were on our way back, and I was thanking Mark for the pepper spray:

“You know, even on this road, there are a lot of homes, but when E and I are out, it’s the middle of the day, and a lot of these people are at work. If anyone had the opportunity to attack, no one would hear me crying for help” (I’ve been watching too much Crime TV).

“No, I agree, it’s good to have it,” Mark said.

“Yeah, I mean, yesterday, I was walking the bike path alone, and this guy just came crawling out of the bushes…”

Mark points off in the distance, “Yeah, take this guy for example…”

I look up and see an older man bent over under the tree line at the back of our parking lot. It looked like he was inspecting tree trunks.

“Exactly!” I said, “I’m out here alone with this guy… I don’t know who he is. What if he attacked me back here?”

Then Mark stopped and said, “Um, wait… I think that’s your dad.”

“What?” I asked, confused. “Uh... That is my dad!” I called out his name and started waving my arms to get his attention.

“Dad, what are you doing!?”

“Looking for balsam pitch!”

As we got closer, he explained that he had walked down our road (in the opposite direction we had walked), out onto the highway, then back up another dirt road, to circle around to the back of the property. He was searching for us and balsam pitch...

“What about the potroast?” I asked.

“It’ll be okay for a bit.”

I hoped he was right, because I had visions of it exploding on the stove and Mom’s cot bursting into flames while she slept peacefully in a cloud of smoke.

We all went down to the pond to feed the fish, then back home to eat dinner and relax for the evening. We told ghost stories and watched some Haunted TV – Dad and I love it – while Mom rested some more.

E woke us up early Sunday morning, and Mom and Dad set off before 9am to get Mom in to see the doctor on their way home. The natural remedies weren't quite kicking the flu out of her system.

It was Father’s Day, so Mark, E, and I went hiking, had a quick breakfast, then spent the evening with Mark’s family.

Not to end on a sad note, but it was also the 3-year anniversary of the loss of my first pregnancy. It’s hard to live in the past when you have a 1-year-old demanding your constant attention in the present, but I think of my first baby every day and took a moment to appreciate my beautiful family (Baby #1 included). I love you guys!