Another Fourth at The Lake and Lucy

At Pine Mountain Lake, where the "McKinney Relaxin' Shack" is, the Fourth of July (Independence Day) is THE big holiday, when the normally placid beaches fill up with throngs. Normally, we lay low. But this year, our friends Lisa & Eric joined us (unexpectedly) and we were invited by our neighbors' family to go out on their boat and join the Boat Parade, another fine PML tradition in which folks festoon their boats and parade around spraying everyone else onshore and in other boats with squirt guns, partying, and generally making merry.

Apparently, there are even annual "themes" beyond the obvious red, white, and blue and other patriotic regalia; this year it was holidays. A canoe was made to look like a Thanksgiving turkey rowed by pilgrims and Indians. A prancing leprechaun, festooned in bright green with a red beard cavorted maniacally beneath a pot-o-gold terminated rainbow. Drinks were drunk and music was played. And, as my mother used to say: A good time was had by all.

Until the next day. Lucy awoke not her usual perky self, but lethargic and weak. She appeared to be in pain, and at times, she shivered. We were worried, and I had to return to work and our home in Aptos. Then, Lucy developed a swelling on her chest; Candice took her to the vet twice in Sonora (who unfortunately was leaving imminently). Then Candice decided to come home for a while and consult her usual vet.

Lucy seems to be getting better, but her temperature won't stay down. We're still worried.

Golf

Oddly enough, I'm attempting to pick it up, very late in life. Most people start playing at a much younger age. It's possible that I never was interested in it because of a painful accident when I was about eight years old:

My next door neighbor kid friend, who was a couple years older, was really into golf. He went on to be a "star" on the high school golf team, if there is such a thing. Anyway, one day I was watching him practice his driving, and he accidentally whacked me quite hard on the head, leading to a large goose-egg on my head and quite a bit of consternation on my part, as you might imagine.

Nevertheless, I decided in my dotage to try to play the game of my Scottish ancestors. I was told in no uncertain terms (by Candice, among others...she used to play a bit) that it's not a game you can just "pick up" like volleyball or ping pong. So, I've been taking lessons, and now I understand what they mean. It looks very easy, but isn't, and can be terribly frustrating.

But I've also found it strangely rewarding, and so far all I've done is practiced hitting the ball. So...we'll see how I take to it once I actually start playing.