Alive and Kicking

Hello World,     Happy June! I know it doesn't seem remotely possible that we could already be in the sixth month of the year, heaven knows, but I'm afraid that's exactly where we find ourselves at this point, believe it or not. Of course, the weather doesn't bear mentioning, it's so ridiculous, but we have at least the promise of more beautiful flowers ahead of it, even still. Our poor purple allium did not do well this year, but our buttercups have been nothing but outstanding on all fronts, and a cheerier sight would be hard to come by. The flowerbeds continue to enthrall, with masses of dense bugleweed, colorful cranes bill, and enchanting bunches of lily of the valley holding its own against all comers. Here, we do not complain about our wild rosebushes, which are putting on a show all over the yard, and we also remember to be grateful for our neighbors' spirea and flowering almond spilling over our rock walls, making our yard not only look better but smell better, and all with absolutely no effort on our part, thank you very much.     For those folks with a need for speed, the venerable Indianapolis 500 roared into town right on time last Sunday, in the sweltering Midwest heat, and blistering speeds to match. A veteran driver with the unlikely name of Will Power capped off a decorated career with a win at The Brickyard, in the 102nd running of the event. He somehow managed to elude the numerous crashes that knocked several fan favorites out of the picture - such as Helio Castroneves and Tony Kanaan - and unfortunately in her final professional race, Danica Patrick slammed into the Turn 2 wall in Lap 68 and finished in 30th place. Over the years, she's been a tireless ambassador for her sport, and deserved a better swan song than that - although admittedly, she's probably just as glad they won't have her to kick around anymore. You go, girl!     In other sports news, expansion darlings Las Vegas and Washington are all knotted up in the Stanley Cup finals, with plenty of nail-biting action to come, before someone skates away with the prize. Over on the hoops side of things, the Cavaliers and Warriors are slugging it out on the boards, where despite a 50-point effort from LeBron James, all by his own self, the Cavs still managed to lose the opening game in overtime, thanks not. Meanwhile, it was the Boys of Summer who brought me one of my favorite sports stories in a good long while. Yankees shortstop Didi Gregorius started out the year playing well, but then tailed off, until he reached a point that he was mired in a woeful 0-30 slump at the plate. In one recent game, he managed to smack a little bleeder through the infield, and just barely beat it out to first base ahead of the throw. I can tell you that nobody expected him to call time out and ask the umpire for the ball after that. The stadium absolutely fell to pieces, and the announcers laughed so hard that they couldn't even breathe, much less speak. Joy in Mudville, indeed.     Of course, as everybody knows by now, if the Memorial Day weekend has come and gone, also coming and going along with it must have been my sister's famous BBQ in the woods, with its many thousands of her closest friends and relatives, colleagues, associates, acquaintances, cohorts, kindly strangers, wayfaring adventurers, and space aliens from far distant planets as well. My other sister Diane and I headed up there on Saturday morning, and not a lick of traffic, so that was a fortunate thing. We didn't care much for the weather, and frankly, it only got worse from Saturday to Sunday, so it certainly did not come through with the beach-going conditions that anybody might have hoped for, that's for sure. In spite of overcast skies, it still managed to be 90 degrees in the shade, and things were pretty uncomfortable, even if all you were doing was lounging around in lawn chairs, sipping a cool beverage without a care in the world. (Or universe, for that matter.) With the property awash in a surging sea of humanity, and assorted whatnot, admittedly it's a big job to greet everyone quickly, and also keep on top of the passing time, so we can make sure to leave at a reasonable hour. Not so fast! This time around, Diane and I elected to stay overnight at the nearby Quality Inn in Kingston, so we were basically under no time pressure at all, which made everything much more relaxed all around. We went back to the hotel after dinner, and found it as quiet and comfortable as we could have wanted, plus with a handy buffet breakfast on site, that was just the ticket to get us up on our feet and out the door in the morning. Sunday brought yet even more friends, relatives, kindly strangers, and space aliens, in spite of the rain, and it didn't seem to put a damper on the variety of craft projects underway, or the rollicking games of horseshoes, ping pong, Frisbee, volleyball, or what-have-you, I can tell you that. (Although after 46 years of hosting this shindig, it must be said that the Klingons have yet to get the hang of weaving lanyards, no matter how hard they try.) When it was finally time to pack up in earnest, we were glad that we had a chance to see so many more guests than usual, when we would have normally left early on Saturday instead, and not enjoyed ourselves nearly as much. We stopped at Denny's on the way home, which is always a treat, and even got a lanyard from the Romulans tossed in while we were there. Personally, I think they were just showing off. My favorite story from the BBQ came from an unlikely quarter. Our hostess had made a special trip over to me right from the start, to assure me that in the event that I didn't care for what was cooking on the grill, there were plenty of different options in the kitchen, that might be more to my liking, and I need only say the word, and it would be heated up for me on the spot. "Oh no," I averred, "I'm one of those people, if I eat a lot in the middle of the day, I'll be sound asleep all the rest of the afternoon, no matter how I try to avoid it." I said I appreciated her culinary efforts on my behalf, but I would stick with a small and simple sandwich that I brought from home, and leave it at that. I was hoping that sounded diplomatic and not uneasy, although I have the feeling that it all became moot, as it turned out. If she happened to glance over in our direction about 10 minutes later, she would have discovered both my other sister and myself, fully stretched out on recliners and dead to the world, out like the proverbial light and busily sawing wood in the midst of noisy revelers, teams playing games, children scampering, campers setting up tents, group photos, planting flowers, and Chinese community singing - and not to mention, virtual armies full of helpers carrying food, tables, drinks, and utensils from one end of creation to the other. Obviously, I could have saved myself the pretty speeches, and simply said that I would most likely just fall asleep anyway, no matter what I ate, and given it up as a lost cause. Sort of like the Klingons and lanyards, I dare say. Elle