I've got a brand new pair of rollerskates, you've got a brand new key....

We're doomed, Constant Readers. The Family found the blog. I realized that I just capitalized 'The Family' in a sort of Charles Manson kind of way...and I think I might leave it so. 

They are just     that       scary.

Terrifying.

What little patience I possess, I have gained through long conversation with my father; and not in the way you might suppose.

My father and I enjoy a relationship where we can have deep philosophical conversations, and generally find a way to do so when I'm visiting on vacation. The reason we can do this is that I've learned enough patience over the years not to kill him when he pisses me off playing devil's advocate. He takes a perverse pleasure in finding flaws in my arguments and exploiting them, even if he doesn't agree with the position he is taking. I didn't get wise to this until my late teens, when I found myself doing the exact same thing to my friends (I know better than to do it to my sister). So if I wanted to continue the conversation and make my point, I had to learn to take a deep breath, bite my tongue, keep calm, and organize my next argument. So for that, Dad, I thank you. You obnoxious jerk.

So Dad and I started the day with a very interesting conversation about feeling spiritually called to certain actions, whether the call was an actual awakening or just ego wearing a mask, and how we know whether or not what we're doing is 'right' both for us and in God's view. These conversations always get interesting because our approaches to our faith are very different-my father is very text based, while mine is more experiential and minimalist. Mostly I enjoy that they don't turn into the screaming matches they did when I was seventeen and impatient and more self-righteous. It's also good to be reminded that there is a lot of scripture I don't think about, and that can be enlightening. Lastly, its good to stretch my mental legs this way.

Peace.

But, such intellectual pursuits could not last in the face of breakfast. And then, in the time honoured tradition of saturday morning Frylings everywhere, we went GARAGE SAILING!

No, this does not mean we take an actual garage and sail it, you smart asses. We go hunting for treasures!

Canadians do not know how to do garage sales properly, you'll forgive me saying. They're not the best hagglers, being too polite to argue over a piece, and things have a tendency to be over priced (though that's more an island flaw than anything else). Also, people, SIGNAGE! For example:

This is PERFECTION.

We made a successful haul- mom got a whack of new embroidery patterns, I got some excellent crochet pieces and four brand new tags still on soft as a baby's bum primary coloured turtleneck sweaters for $10 (after some clever haggling and cajoling on my behalf) dad picked up a sweet mountain bike for $20, and Dani got a scarf! Most importantly, we had FUN!

A lot of that fun might have been snickering at my father as he drove around impatiently trying to find the elusive garage sales. Apparently if I want my revenge, all I need to do is control the GPS.

It has been pointed out to me that there are no pictures of me as yet, so aside from my distinctive writing style, you don't know that it's really me. Am I even alive? Is it Leigh's ghost typing this pap?

It's me guys. Content yourselves.

Garage sales conquered and tummies rumbling, we headed for lunch. Now when I tell you that these people have the best sandwiches anywhere, you can take it as writ because as we all know, I don't like sandwiches. They are my least favourite food delivery system. But I LOVE sandwiches from this place. 

This is a true Italian deli. Meats and cheeses cured past perfection, flavours of the wider world built into stacks of mouth watering delight, fresh baked vanilla pizelle cookies, creamy cannoli, sweetness and spice and dark olive smells mingling with the clean lake breezes. This is the place to be mid afternoon with a hungry belly.

In an uncharacteristic turn of events- I ate every bite. 

Man, I miss that cannoli...

After lunch, it was time to just enjoy down town Traverse City. 

Close your eyes. No, not your outside eyes, how are you going to read if you close those? Close your inner eyes, the ones you dream with. I want you to imagine a quality of sunlight that spills water-like, clear and bright and sparkling into wide streets and avenues. A breeze like a cross current, fresh with the scent of open waters and clean blue sky. A harp and a violin swimming together through the sounds of clinking glasses in outdoor pubs, the banter of women on a shopping spree, the fall of sandal'd feet on the sandy grey pavement. Dark chocolate fudge wafts through the air like a fat lazy fish as we pass Kilwin's candy shop. This is a beautiful place. 

Kilwins makes their own fudge. Its beautiful.

We walked, we talked, we shopped, we enjoyed the ambiance.

And then everyone got really cranky and we went home. But not before we got to see the sail boats out in Grand Traverse Bay!

A nap came along and punched me in the face shortly after we arrived back at the cabin. Luckily for me, by the time I woke up everyone's good humour had more or less returned, and Dad was busy making burgers. I know I've waxed a little bit hyperbolic about the food we've eaten at various places- but no one makes burgers like my father. If only he had better taste in beer. 

The evening wrapped itself up with a game of Settlers of Catan. In my family, gameplay goes something like this;

My family playing catan;

"All I get is fricking sheep!"
"Screw this robber, if you roll one more effing seven-"
"WHERE IS THE GODDAMN WHEAT?!"
"I will eff your sheep, I don't want your sheep, NO ONE NEEDS SHEEP"
"Oh for f***s sake, it's another sheep."
"I HAVE A WHEAT, I OWN THE UNIVERSE!!!"

20 minutes later...

"All I need is one goddamn sheep what the hell is wrong with this game?!!"

Eventually the game degenerated into my mother making romantic overtures to my father in an attempt to gain wheat, and my father placing the robber (which he rolled three turns straight) on my ore deposits, effectively rock blocking me. All in all, a pretty damn good time. 

So we retired to our beds, me to fight with the internet for an hour and a half before eventually giving up in frustration and tossing and turning the rest of the night.   Until tomorrow!

Prayers for friends in distant places,
Prayers for old familiar faces.
Prayers for loyal hearts and true,
Prayers for loved ones, old and new.