I Can See Clearly Now, the Rain is Gone

Another great weekend at Saranac!
It was really, really nice. And, for the first time, I acutally spent some one-on-one time with my step-mom. Can you believe it? Joan and my dad have been married for (more than five but less than ten?) years and this is the first time I was really able to spend some quality time with her. We dined with her friends, Marsha, Connie and John, after I arrived at Camp on Thursday evening. It was one of those lovely, warm, Adirondack evenings. Marsha made this wonderful chili-like dish (called something like Picadilly) that she served over rice. We, also, had toaster-oven brownies, made from scratch, and filled with peppermint patties. A semi-sweet riesling was my wine of choice and Joan finished off my Seneca Steamer (which I'd left at Camp last weekend). Conversation centered around stories of platform tents and the island on which their families all camped in the 60's. For the first time, I found myself wishing I were alive in the sixties and had experienced platform tent camping and summers on an island.
On Friday morning, Joan and I hit a great thrift-like shop, where nothing has a price tag; you simply take what you want and make a donation. Karen, who is parked at the makeshift counter and shared the organization's history with me, told me that  all donations are "just between you and the box." I like this idea because it means that no one is discriminated against based on their income-- whether you are low, middle or higher income, you choose what to pay and no one knows the difference. The shop has racks and racks of clothing; a lot of it name brand and gently-used to brand new, with tags. There are also dishes and small appliances, books, toiletries, and odds and ends. After a couple of hours at the shop I deemed "The Free Store," Joan and I walked around the Tupper Lake Flea Market. It was Day One, so there were a lot of empty vendor spaces but still, there was plenty to keep us entertained. We stopped to chat with the vendors Joan knew well because of the time she and Dad spent at the Flea Market with Andee's Anteeks. Nice folks. One couple made and sold kettle corn; another sold mobiles fashioned from two-liter soda bottles, which were cut, contorted and made to look like bird cages. Inside each, was a bird (or a duck or a teddy bear). Beverly and Harold sold anteeks antiques, too and I was delighted to find a set of nesting pyrex glass bowls for just $10. Of course, everyone asked after Dad. I think they were eager for his business moreso than his company, but this is just my opinion.
After the Flea Market, we lunched at the Brick Oven Cafe in Tupper. Great little Ithaca-like cafe with their menu printed on chalkboards and sandwiches, wraps and paninis with names like "Seward's Range" and "Arab's Mountain." On the way home, Joan and I scoped out the site of Saturday's auction-- an old infirmary for the 1930's boy's camp, which for the last sixty years had been used as a house and most recently had been owned by a lady who loved to garage sale (and, in turn, was filled with stuff!).We peeked in the windows and checked-out the waterfront and headed back to my car when a neighbor started to wander over to, likely,  give us hell for being on the property before the auction/preview began.  Our evening was spent doing some cleaning at Camp. Joan finished painting the shower stall and I moved the heavy iron bed in the second bedroom to do some cleaning and re-arranging. Late in the evening, Dad, Dan, Uncle Fred and Aunt Helen arrived.
On Saturday morning, we all drove to the other side of the lake and previewed the auction, then left Dad and Joan there with a list of what we wanted them to bid on for us. I kind of liked this idea; being able to bid on items but not having to sit at the actual auction for hours. I took Fred, Helen and Dan to The Free Shop, where they each spent about an hour perusing the racks and finding treasures and then we went over to the Flea Market and walked around. I have to say that, it being my second day there, I was probably a little too pushy when it came to the time spent looking at the vendor's tents. I tried to hurry everyone through but Uncle Fred is more like Dad than he will ever admit, so we were there for a couple hours. Not wanting to miss an opportunity for them to try the Brick Oven Cafe, I stopped there for lunch and, as we waited for our sandwiches, I Skyped Mandy to check in on how she and her sister were doing. Did I mention that the Cafe is one of the few places in town with free Wi-Fi??
Back at camp in the afternoon, I took Aunt Helen out in the canoe. She had only been out in a canoe once. Of course, Dan and Uncle Fred found Helen's nervousness quite entertaining and yelled at us and snapped pictures from the dock. Not that I, by any stretch, am a pro-canoer, but I do know the basics and was able to keep us right-side-up. As we passed boaters (rather they passed us), Helen was too worried to let go of the canoe to wave. A couple of handsome men, noticing that Helen didn't wave but rather continued her grip on the boat, when I told them that she was nervous, responded teasingly, "Well, it is safe to talk!"
Reaching the dock, we saw that Dad and Joan had returned from the auction with a truckload of treasures. Of course, Dad teased me that everything I'd wanted had "gone too high." Having grown-up with this, I knew better and searched out my yelloware bowls, art glass vase and other random pieces. All accounted for, I made a mental note that this is how I would "auction" from this day forward.
While Joan started dinner, we took the Boston Whaler out, heading through Spider Creek, toward Chapel Island, past The Point and then back to camp after an hour. Center cut pork chops were cooked over the fire, along with zucchini and summer squash from my Step-father's garden (which I'd brought from home). I enjoyed a new blush with dinner, Wisteria. On a whim, I'd added dark cherries and peaches to it, making it a delicious sangria-like drink. Dad fell asleep after dinner, so we enjoyed picking on him, throwing food at his mouth, which was slightly open as he snored. I am not a good aim so you can imagine his confusion when our laughter woke him and he had a grape on his shoulder and a piece of pork on his knee. We laughed so hard our stomachs hurt. After clearing the table, doing dishes and ushering Dad into bed, we played Farkle, a quick-moving, dice game and then retired to bed ourselves.
Sunday morning came early. I was up at 6:30 to let Bella, Rocky and Shelby (dogs) outside and to start the coffee. Dad was up soon after and the others followed shortly thereafter. More Farkle over coffee and then Dad's famous banana pancakes.
 I felt the familiar feeling of sadness as we drove away later in the afternoon. It is always hard to leave. And this weekend, filled with running around and lots of family, was no different. Though they all have their quirks, I love my family--each and every one of them and I wouldn't trade anything for the memories of this weekend.
 By the time we were coming down into Watertown, I was already trying to mentally calculate the number of days until we could return to camp. Twelve days IF we can go back up for Labor Day weekend, twenty if it is the weekend after.