The Estes
"Golden" Family Reunion
April 2002
Monday
A gloriously slow, lazy morning.
We meander, one by one, into the breakfast room in
the lodge's office cabin, and sample the cereals and pastries.
Wayne tips off Steven that they have Honey Nut Cheerios, and Steven
quickly picks up a box of that (Larry grabs the remaining one
later). I'm content with orange juice and plain oatmeal (still
reminiscing over of last night's Crab Alfredo dinner), and I
demonstrate to Dad how the hot water works on the coffee machine so he
can have oatmeal the next morning. Steven wastes no time in
demonstrating the little cappuccino machine. I can't find the
sugar. Dad says it's in front of me. I, looking into the
little basket of fake sugar on top of the coffee machine, assure him
there isn't any. He says, no, it's in front of me, and I look up
to see the big container marked "SUGAR" behind the tiny basket.
Ah. Debbie meanders in later and, looking around the little
basket, asks where the sugar is.
Larry checks out the vending machine just outside
the door and discovers the drink machine next to it -- more
specifically, he discovers the Cheerwine option on the drink machine
and is thrilled. (Cheerwine is a pseudo replacement for Budwine,
the official soft drink of our youth, courtesy of our trips to Helen,
Georgia where we were introduced to it at The Old Sautee Store.
It's a sort of light cherry-ish drink. Budwine used to be easily
found in Athens, where it was bottled, but it's gone now, and Cheerwine
isn't always easy to find -- even more difficult, of course, in
Washington State.) His thrill, however, is guarded as he searches
for change -- what if it's mismarked on the machine and he gets
something else? He slips in the money, presses the button and
ta-da! A glorious can of Cheerwine rolls into his hands. He
walks around with it, saving it for later...
Most of the family eventually wind our way to the
pavilion by the lake (pond, actually) to enjoy the gloriously sunny
morning. Steven, Natalie, Alex and I take Mom's car and check out
the Coyote Slap Cafe -- um, Buck's -- where we enjoy tasty latte-type
drinks and sit in the back on the sofa and chairs and shoot the
breeze. Natalie and Alex ask Steven about his relatively new life
in Tennessee, and Steven and I are entertained by Natalie's tales of
working in a restaurant (note to self, never shake a half-empty glass
at Natalie to indicate wanting her to fill it -- she hates that)(and
she can tell what kind of customer experience she's going to have from
their hello). Alex had talked about a few of the ickier chores at
her hair salon job over last night's dinner (like pulling hair from the
drains, I think she said), and we need to head back to the lodge, so we
decide to move on -- but a couple of shops first. The window of
Call of the Wild intrigued at least one of us (me) during our previous
evening's quest for an open restaurant, so we step in and check out the
cool kaleidoscopes and other pieces of funky nature art and toys before
being completely overcome with potpourri and heading back to the
cottage (via jaywalking when the walk lights simply wouldn't signal for
us).
When we return, Allison is breathless with
excitement, jumping around in front of the pavilion, announcing to us
that Jennifer had beaten Larry in checkers -- "one on one!"
Apparently, it had been an incredibly exciting checkers game that we
missed, because Jen then comes bounding out with the same excitement,
announcing to Wayne and pointing her finger to accentuate each
syllable, "I... beat... your... BROTHER!" which cracks up Wayne.
Wayne and Debbie had been spending their time trying
to fish tadpoles
out of the pond with a styrofoam cup with a stick through it -- "Ya
gotta see these tadpoles!" -- and we are wowed by the population of
huge, pre-frog tadpoles congregating around the edges of the
pond.
Our big family photo is happening at 4 o'clock, so
we decide to take the earlier part of the day to check out Dry Falls
and then back to town for some shopping and lunch.
So we get to Dry Falls, one of those cool waterfalls
you can walk behind, and Wayne's crew is all ready heading down the
sidewalk winding down to the falls while Larry and Dad work out their
parking payment envelopes. Wayne says, "Steven's over there,"
pointing to the hillside of trees on the other side of the river.
"He hopped the fence and took off." Larry takes a digital photo
of the hillside, with an intended "Where's Steven?" caption, but I
don't know if it works out. Before we know it, Steven is back on
our side, just above us at the top of the sidewalk, hopping back over
the fence (Larry definitely gets a picture of that).
Mom's knee is solid enough to get her down to --
and, more importantly, back from -- the viewing bench at the sidewalk's
turn, so she watches while various members of her family travel over
the rocky path and under the extremely damp waterfall. Allison
meets me on the final walk down, all smiling with damp shoulders and
semi-dripping hair. (Larry says they should call it "Relatively
Dry Falls.") She returns several times, and Wayne later comments,
"Took me forever to talk her into going under and now we can't talk her
out of it!"
Back to town for a tasty bar-b-que lunch, where we
sit at two separate tables. I'm chatting with Allison, Dad,
Debbie, Jen and Mom, while I can't help but notice the Larry, Wayne,
Rita, Steven, Natalie and Alex table enjoying an appetizer of onion
rings (drat! I got the non-appetizer table!). It's a homey
country place, with flat grocery bags for placemats and Mason jars with
handles for glasses. Debbie distributes pens to Allison and
Jennifer so they can draw, and she tells us of the trauma of having to
teach different parts of sketching to her second graders, finally
proclaiming her main problem with it, "I can't sketch!" Mom
demonstrates to the girls how to draw a bunny sitting up, her sketching
specialty, and I demonstrate how to draw a bunny sitting low to the
ground (as demonstrated to me by Grandmother when I was a little girl).
Then the food arrives! The menu offers the
typical bar-b-que selection of sandwiches and plates, and the
Intimidator sandwich, which Mom orders for the Texas toast-style bread,
not realizing the nickname applies to the amount of meat piled on
it. She marvels over the inch-and-a-half stack of sliced pork
between the bread, too much even after she donates a couple of slices
to my beef sandwich.
Eventually, the conversation turns to lifelong
dreams. I ask Dad what he would do if he could do anything, and
he says sing.
"Like Perry Como?" Mom asks,
smiling.
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