Labor Day Eve, Sunday 9/6/09

It's always nice on Sunday night if you know you don't have to work on the morrow. And what better day not to work than Labor Day. Labor Day is a holiday that celebrated it's 125th birthday this year. In 1884, the Knights of Labor held a large parade in New York City celebrating and in honor of the working class. The parade was held on the first Monday in September. The Knights passed a resolution to hold all future parades on the same day, designated by them as Labor Day.

O'er the years, it has evolved from a purely labor union celebration into a general "last fling of summer" festival. I guess that's what it is to us, although we appreciate, indeed thank, the folks who gave us the 40 hour week. And our friends with school age children? Well, Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again. Perhaps they celebrate, but not I. To me it is but another "last fling" brimming with mixed emotion.

Off the lake and river. The house is full and we add two more, making us ten. No, I'm not counting Jack the Dog, because if I did I'd have to give equal time to cats as that's, only fair. Derrick and Rachelle join us for burgers and fish on the grill. The usual picnic supper, add some chips, fruit salad, potato salad, Boston baked beans, with condo mints.
As often happens, at least at first, women congregate inside to imbibe in inside chatter, about what? I know not. Whilst men move to the out of doors and talk about new ways to light and use charcoal.

My friend Derrick pronounces "about" and "roof" in what I find to be a peculiar manner. 'Course roof is kinda funny anyway? Derrick, being normal in almost every other respect, if he didn't talk, you might not know he is from some place north and west of here called Sasquatchian. I believe he was ridiculed to the point of embarrassment and then banned for not having a Big Foot. Rachelle taking pity, not that big of feat, allowed him to share a cottage.

Derrick has a Mother who still loves him still, small feet meaning little to her. (Synonyms on the river as well) I've met her a couple of times and was told she found me "interesting". Interesting enough that for some unknown reason, she sent a package to Derrick, he thinking for him, but destined for me. This somewhat baffled all who cared, which were few. In the package was an apron entitled, "eh?" Apparently a Canadian word that reflects my feeling expressed as "huh?", or maybe not. And this question permeated my being until I remembered what my Father used to say when baffled by women; "At first I thought 'what the hell'? And then I thought 'oh'". We must remember the words and poetry of our Fathers, should we not?
Derrick being less curious by gifts of aprons, is among the first to gather round the round table and fill his plate. Seems his plate is always full, along with his schedule, his bathrooms, his garage, and his driveway. Note, you can not tell, nor I, by looking at him that he has a duality of citizenship. He looks as misstified as the rest of us - of men of course I speak.
When the sun goes down o'er the river, and forget to turn on the flash, you get a photo to make - oh oh oh - to make you shiver, and invite normally sweet Rachelle's rath. Actually when seeing the photo, it inspired her to dress as a witch on All Hallow's Eve. She was a different kind of scary on that eve. Stay tuned, Halloween may be sooner than you or I think.
Alex, looking as if he is chewing tobacco, is actually sucking on his lip, a habit he has since mistaking lip for lobe. I suppose he could be grimacing. I have learned that looks and even words can be deceiving. Oh, but to have a full understanding of both. What a wonderful world it would be.

I see trees of green, red roses too

I see them bloom for me and you

And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue and clouds of white

The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night

And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky

Are also on the faces of people going by

I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do

They're really saying I love you.

I hear babies crying, I watch them grow

They'll learn much more than I'll never know

And I think to myself what a wonderful world

Yes I think to myself what a wonderful world.

John looking content and relaxed by the fire. Little does he realize, in the dark hides Makwa the cat, preparing to pounce on his left too vulnerable foot. That's my left, his right.
Derrick looks certifiable as often a psychologist might. Counter intuitive? Perhaps. But perchance it only be past bed time, and he but trying to stay awake, more likely conceivably, Makwa, a cat of black, has gone and attacked upon his back. Rachelle, although looking much better than her last photo, if I do dare posit, is still lugubrious with the photographer. Perhaps the next tale blogged will do justice to her photogenically, and apology and forgiveness resolved.

By the closing of eyes, we can tell that the hour must be getting late. Soon black furred Makwa - part bear, part tomcat - unseen by girls in shadows before a flash of light, will sing before you know it, and to, our great delight...

"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief,

"There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief.

Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth,

None of them along the line know what any of it is worth."

"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke,

"There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke.

But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate,

So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."

All along the watchtower, princes kept the view

While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.

Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl,

Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.