We met up at Sessions for dinner tonight. I keep a lot of family stories in my head and I told some tonight.

The one I will tell right now is about a time I drove the beach urchins up to the moomincabin from the Planet Ann Arbor. Little Cat Z was maybe a second grader. I worked a half day and when I got home, LCZ had made peanut butter sandwiches for us to eat in the POC (crappy old Island Teal Chrysler minivan).

We stopped at Hoton Lake halfway up to visit with the beach urchins’ Grandpa Garth and Grandma Sally, where we exchanged an old rusty rake and some shoeboxes and empty film canisters and I fergit what else for a rotten cucumber and green pepper. Something like that.

While we were there, I somehow got the grandparents rolling on retirement accounts. Jeebus. LCZ, who had heard this spiel umpteen bazillion times before and knew how much I hated it, got up close to my ear and stage whispered, “Mom! Change the talk.” And so I did, which is how we ended up with the rotten veggies. I took those oid veggies up to the moominbeach and dumped them in my uncle Don’s compost. Don’t get me wrong, my in-laws were wonderful and I loved them.

We’ll talk about the time my dad was running from the moominbeach into town on the old railroad grade and ran INTO a person running the other way some other day (or not). It was pitch black when that happened.

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