A Perfect Weekend

Life doesn't get much better than this on a mid-winter weekend in Minnesota. Saturday morning, after enjoying a satisfying family breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon (a nod to CTP), I settled in to read the newspaper while savoring a couple cups of coffee. Around 10:30, I put on my 19-year-old pair of Sorrels, a couple of sweaters and a pair of gloves, and head out for a nice long walk with the doggie. We tramped along some of the trails and across some of the lakes under a Yukon-blue sky, the temperature hovering in a comfortable 30 degree range. On the lakes, I was able to let Hunter off the leash and watch him savor his freedom by bounding across the snow-packed ice, then back to me at full force, and off again as soon as he circled me. The wind had blown the snow into hard, low ridges spaced erratically along the lake, and I was amused to notice that our footprints virtually disappeared when we traversed those ridges, only to reappear a few feet later. It was as if we had been plucked right off the earth and set down somewhere else to resume our walk. In all, we walked a good five miles, and by the time we returned home we were a little weary but relaxed and happy. Ahhh.

While we were walking, there were minimal distractions from my own thoughts. I've found that one advantage of deefness is that I'm not tempted to plug myself into a radio or iPod to be entertained or diverted in any way. During my downtime, whether it's on a long walk or during the numerous car trips I make for work, I like to scrape off a little brain lint to examine and ponder. Brain lint is the stuff you pull up from the far reaches of your mind, where you store nearly-forgotten memories. The brain lint I scrape up usually is colored by a specific theme. On this particular walk, my brain lint came from long winter walks I've taken on lakes. Given that we lived by lakes only the first 7 years of my life, there was limited content to ponder. I remember thinking as a kid how big Paul's Lake was (HA!) and recalled the time Susie Christensen and I walked all the way across the lake, rang the doorbell at some stranger's house, and asked for a drink of water. (I'm surprised we didn't ask for lemon drops, as was our custom at the Erickson's at the end of the road). That trek across the lake, and eventually back again, seemed soooooooo long, and I didn't think we'd make it home, and instead would perish on the ice somewhere between the island and the shore. I don't remember being so tired when we walked across another lake, the one by Hernberger's, to go sledding on the big hill on the far side. Maybe that's because Hernberger's lake was smaller and we didn't have to go straight across, but kind of diagonally. I know some of the bigger kids were with us, although who "us" even is, I don't know. The cold, the snow, the size of the hill, and the expanse of the lake are the details I've retained.

A walk that produces some warm, fuzzy brain lint is enough to make any weekend a good one, but this weekend had even more delights. Caleb's basketball team played in a tournament in Wayzata, and we drove out there three straight evenings. Wayzata was the only team to beat Woodbury in B level competition this year. In the second tournament of the season, Woodbury played against them in the championship game, and was leading most of the game. At the very end, however, Wayzata caught up, and squeaked past Woodbury with a basket that won the game by one point. What a heartbreaker. As you can imagine, Woodbury had revenge on their minds, and what better place to get that revenge than at Wayzata's own tournament? The two teams were placed in opposite brackets so they could meet in the championship game, and that's exactly what happened. Jeff, in particular, was obsessed with avenging the earlier loss, and our 6th graders didn't disappoint us. Within the first few minutes they shot ahead to a 12-0 lead and never looked back, winning the championship 45-25. Caleb scored 7 points, so his haircut must still be doing it's job. It was particularly gratifying to win when we saw a few of the Wayzata players taking out their frustration by shoving their elbows into our players or hitting them on the back when the refs weren't looking. Most of the players were good sports, though, and it was an exciting, well-played game. And boy, revenge is sweet. THAT was the icing on the cake of my perfect weekend.