The day dawned hot
and dry—just like every other day the past two weeks. The preparations were nearly, not quite,
done.
The dog house was spruced up a little:
An inveterate
animal-rescuer provided an occupant for the newly-remodeled home.
The old bushes
got a little trim.
Saturday morning, Dick
arrived and things began to happen.
About 2 p. m. in the heat of the day, the game began.
Nearly everyone
was ready for a shaved-ice after a dusty hot nine holes. A few even chose the rhubarb flavor—a syrupy
wine manufactured in 1971 by Granny.
There was time for a special
presentation in front of the company—a picture that was supposed to be a
Christmas present. Oh well, better late
than never.
Everybody brought
a lot of food. Dick sweated and slaved
over two grills for two hours. And a
great feast was had by all, including a few million uninvited guests—FLIES!
The day was made
special by the gathering of relatives and neighbors. At the end of the day as it grew dark, with
everyone tired and full of delicious food, the family broke out the guitars and
fiddles, and Voila! Everyone went home!
Thanks to everyone
for coming and making it a memorable weekend.
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