Summer Reunion with Friends

Some of our closest friends moved to California 3 years ago. It really wasn't very nice of them at all, because you see we not only have homeschooling in common, but UUism and whole foods diets and angst about living in the cornfields of IL where we've lived for, like, EVer. It's hard to find kindred spirits 'round these here parts, so I take some mighty high offense when some of my chosen folks go gallivanting off to lawd-knows-where. They forgot to ask our opinion about their move, and have been so ashamed ever since they've taken to sending us real estate information by email. Ya, like I'm going to move from the corn fields. (What's the square footage again?)

They've come back to see us every summer for three years straight now, we're that cool. (Oh, and they drop in on family, too.) So for three years straight we've hosted the reunion here. It's a short visit, but we pick up right where we left off.

Here are some of us in our photo shoot for next month's Martha Stewart Living. Notice there's no tablecloth. Or centerpiece. The next issue is all about keepin' it simple. Actually, I had four tables and only three tablecloths. Who knew the adults would seek out the only unadorned, faraway, sliver-filled table?





Here you see the wily teens nabbed one of the prime seating spots. There's a nice view of the neighbor's horses from there, and a killer view to the southeast. You can see the nuclear towers in a town 25 miles away. That's called ambiance.

And little Maya heard the chickens and asked to feed them. I love a girl who'll take out my compost. She came back with goodies - farm fresh eggs. Well, maybe we're a farmette. Actually, we're a yuppy-ish house in the middle of a field with a shed. Whatever.

And one of the annual traditions has become the unearthing of the mermaids, seen here with Brit and Kenz. Unbeknownst to me, these two grrls buried one of the mermaids at our first gathering. The mermaids are for identifying your beverage - they perch coyly on the edge of your wine glass, then slide over and bonk you in the nose when you sip. Very ladylike.

Well, during reunion last year, these two grrls asked for a spoon, then a knife, and began digging under the ash tree near my garden. "What in the world?" we all exclaimed, and after lots of scooping and a bit of grass pulling (I handed them work gloves and a wheelbarrow and encouraged them to go crazy), they found her - the mermaid they'd buried the year before. After a little ceremony of sorts (the elements of which are ancient and closely guarded secrets - ok, not really), they buried her again, this time with a mer-friend, and marked the spot with stones. So this year, they unearthed the two mer-grrls, did the moonlight goat-sacri..... er, ritual, and buried the original two plus one new mermaid, who was specially selected by a text message vote that generated over 30,000 voters. (Ok, not really again.)