This week, I was asked by my lovely wife to write about something light and fluffy. At first, I was taken aback by her request. Isn’t going into battle against rogue trolls considered light and fluffy? Isn’t questioning the Almighty light and fluffy? Since when is analyzing a bucket of rocks not the epitome of light and fluffy? I suspect that this is her way of saying that I need to take a break from the pressures of ordinary life to enjoy the sounds of summer that make this season so special, so unique and so memorable.

Bands on the Beach

There was nothing normal about this week for my family and me. I announced to my world the I was leaving my job. No less than 10 hours later, I had to address this question at a party that my wife and attended. We were invited to join with our neighbors for an evening of music and food complete with a band on the edge of the beach playing to an audience, most of whom were watching from their boats moored offshore.

In casual conversation, I was asked the usual small talk question, “What do you do for a living?” Not completely sure how to answer it without going into the details, I landed on this as my response, “When I awoke this morning I was… this, now I’m not.” Additional small talk would follow. Eventually, we could get back to a subject that was light and fluffy.

We joked about the twenty-something-year-olds that still call their parents basement their home, the peculiarities of our nearly 15-year old new driver and other superficial, light and fluffy subjects. I steered conversations away from Parkinson only allowing it to rear its ugly head on one occasion.

The evening culminated with doing something unimaginable, dancing with the hostess to an old Pure Prairie League song, Falling in and out of love with you, on an empty stage in broad day daylight overlooking the beach. Not one to be bold, but certainly not one to deny the hostess her request.

I am confident that those offshore, watching the dance moves of one restrained by a Protestant upbringing and constrained by Parkinson’s meds that were wearing off, were no doubt entertained at my expense. Thankfully, our hostess was neither embarrassed nor admitted for medical care.

A Silent Disco

You must be a loyal reader if you remember my post entitled Silent Disco. We must not have burned up the lawn too badly last year because we were invited back. It was a fantastic evening. The band was just loud enough to complicate the small talk, and the food was good enough to keep me getting up for more.

The evening was a family event, almost all in attendance were much younger than us. It was a subtle reminder to my wife and I that we are on the northern edge of middle age.

The evening ended wearing headphones, everyone listing to the music of all different genres and dancing with my beautiful wife, and you guessed it, showcasing my dance moves restrained by my Protestant upbringing and constrained by Parkinson’s meds that were wearing off. Thankfully it was dark, and most of the guests didn’t notice. At least none were laughing loud enough to disrupt this great evening.

The Sounds of Summer

It was a great weekend, with ample reminders to rest and rejuvenate among family and friends; thankfully the opportunities to do just that were plentiful. If I haven’t mentioned it in a while, I do have an extraordinary life.

We couldn’t ask for anything more. We could, but those things would likely be fattening.

If you see my lovely wife, please let her know that this post was light and fluffy and I am free to resume to my regular programming if the need arises.

Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing,

Ivy hates the sounds of summer. All she hears are the fireworks; load noises keep her on edge and curled up in a ball at the end of someone’s bed.

Al and his faithful, but nervous sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.