Ahh, summer

It’s here at last—summer!
So many great things happen this time of year. School’s out and all that wild shouting and screaming is, of course, the teachers. Even the students seem pleased.
With graduation ceremonies in full swing last week, several old alumni were in town—returning to their alma maters to hand out bursaries and other awards to deserving students.
These “old” grads were seen wandering the streets and checking out the coffee shops full of exclamations like, “Do you remember when the town cop used to chase us around after curfew” or “Whatever happened to that handsome hunk with the long blond hair?”
Well, he’s bald, pot-bellied, and wrinkled with a bum back.
The YaYa sisters were in the Bakery last Saturday in full reminiscence mode. And they had Gary cornered at the debating table.
“You know, Gary, I was the first girl you ever kissed,” claimed Donny, batting her eyelashes provocatively.
Gary choked on his coffee, turned red, and stammered a bit as he turned up his hearing aids and checked out the crowd to make sure there were no witnesses to carry this tale home.
He also tried his best to remember that kiss.
“It was in Grade 1 under the steps of the old school,” giggled Donny as Gary dredged his memory, never admitting it had slipped.
Other summer things are promising to keep me quite busy. So much so this may be my last report for the season.
Aside from swatting mosquitoes and checking for wood ticks, I face the challenge of getting “The Pearl” out on the pontoon boat, the garden weeds are jumping, boat races are coming up, and the grandkids will be coming down for a visit.
So here’s a final wrap-up of the news for the summer.
First, the Runt is limping because his open-toed safety sandals did not offer much protection from the weed whacker. A speedy recovery is wished for.
Second, Moose has been acting a bit dopier than usual. Seems he was accidentally hypnotized the other week and still is in a bit of a trance. Gently remind him to pay for his coffee as he leaves the Bakery.
Third and more troubling is Pickle. After his recent incident with his wood splitter (a chunk of ash took him right between the eyes), we had hoped for a full recovery.
However, recently he stepped out and acquired a well-used Russian tractor. So we are not quite sure if there is lingering brain damage—or if it is the stress of his upcoming retirement.
Moose is training him on operation and maintenance but brother, George, has refused to let him park it on the home farm.
Our sympathies to Pickle’s wife.
So that’s it—I’m off for the summer unless some juicy tidbit arises that requires my attention.
Until then, gossip amongst yourselves.

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