Another summer holiday is here, and you know what that means, don’t you? Men down to Mikey’s Meat Market buying meat. I was in there on Saturday getting some pork chops for supper, and it was a friggin’ mad house. Now, you don’t get this for your winter holidays. Thanksgiving, Christmas, even Easter, I go into the meat market and it’s mostly exhausted women trying to do higher math. You know, if we’ve got 14 people coming for dinner, how big’s the turkey got to be? Or if the rump roast weighs such and such, how long should I cook it and at what temperature? Man, they don’t ask questions like that on the SAT’s! …

Last weekend, guess what we did. Hung out with our cousins up to Claudette and Roger’s camp. We try to do this once a year, just for the heck of it. What a hoot! Sure, some things have changed. Instead of talking about work, it’s all about when we plan to retire, how long we’re going to try to wait to collect Social Security. Instead of our kids, we talk about aging parents and grand kids. Instead of envelopes of loose photos, we take turns squintin’ at our smart phones, trying to find that great shot we just have to share. We travel more. We drink less alcohol and more decaf.  But some things stay …

Wow! Hasn’t the weather been wonderful so far this summer? Of course, there’s always those who complain. They see it as their civic duty. It’s too hot, too humid, not enough rain, too much rain. And sometimes, sure, the weather does leave a little to be desired. Then, there are days that are just picture perfect. Our friend Johnny T calls them “a bluebird of a day.” Charlie was so taken with that idea, he wrote a poem about it. A Bluebird of a Day From the western hills last night A rumblin’ did come The rain we’ve needed finally fell We closed the windows some By morning, all that humid air Had up and …