Almost as if waking up from a pleasant dream to realize it was behind on work and better double down to catch up, the weather has cranked out rain, day and night, almost without pause for over a month. One of the breaks brought winds so strong that we were temporarily stranded; the waves crashed violently up into the trees as the lake is filled to the brim. The mosses are fat and happy again, and mushrooms are everywhere.
We lucked out for Progressive, our traditional parade-of-homes-plus-pub-crawl. Costumed in castoff bridesmaid gowns and eye-popping accessories, we troop from tent to tent to visit each other's domiciles, do a fun activity, and have a drink. This year featured sock puppet making, a round of 1991 Jeopardy!, writing all the postcards one coworker didn't get around to sending, and copious amounts of gin and Yoo-hoo.
I also enjoyed a brief afternoon of sunshine in Homer, dining on fresh seafood in the company of fellow Coldfooters. We (they) hustled some pool, chatted up some locals, played some solid three-handed euchre, and got some delicious pastries -- twice. It was a whirlwind of indulgence, very entertaining for me to tag along on a guys' weekend. And it felt really good, too, coming back to my cozy tent, getting plenty of sleep, and eating vegetables.
