Morning all:

Quote Of The Week:

“Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men’s blood.” Daniel H. Burnham

Last night the company we had over complemented Marcia on our coffee. Since I made that batch, I thought it only proper to repeat the process this morning. I don’t know whether or not it’s the coffee or the distant cry of a loon cutting through the morning haze, but it sure is a special morning.

The most important bit of an update is Adrianne. None of the bed rest she has been under for the past couple of weeks has brought any improvement. Now that she has crossed the 25th week milestone a decision has been made to transfer her. The ‘sister’ hospital she’s just been moved to is a level III NICU facility and the best in the state in dealing with those little “leap from the nest early” types. Keep her and Tevita in your thoughts and prayers. For the two of them the days are long and the weeks never ending, while emotionally it’s a roller coaster—one that never pauses in the station long enough to catch a breath.

As many of you know, early this summer Marcia and I purchased what was essentially an old ‘fishing camp’ on some spectacular waterfront property in northern Ontario, Canada.

Last week we hauled a trailer load of supplies and furnishings up to the place.

This week Marcia put her plan to magically transform our ‘run-into-the-ground’ fishing cabin into action. In short order her vision took hold and shape.

Last evening: success!

Enough of the place has been transformed so that last night we threw a Hors d’œuvres and cocktails party, entertaining a total of ten adults, two teens, and four little kids.

Marcia and I both kept count, as well as which kid belonged to whom. You understand why maintaining such information is critically important? Personally I don’t, but Marcia assures me that women do know.

So you ask: “but Dirk, how are you faring, as your spouse is in the midst of this Whirling Dervish style renovation dance?” My answer would be that I had preferred had she entertained herself with some junior science experiments. The kind where I could have stayed comfortable with a book and then only occasionally would have had to get up to put out some small fire caused by an experiment gone awry.

As it stands now, my back creaks, I can’t form my hands into a fist, my shoulders are hard lumps of permanently contracted muscles, and my mouth only forms the words, “yes dear”.

In a while I’ll make the Saturday morning dump run. There I can commiserate with other husbands in the same shape I find myself in. After which I’ll jump into the water for a lake shower. I LOVE IT!

Make it a great week! Make certain that your own plans, whatever they be, stir men’s blood.



PS. Thanks Paul for letting me suck a little from the WiFi spigot at your cabin.

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