He said not to bother, but with all the overtime he's been putting in with one less artist the last couple weeks, I thought he might like a bowl of chili to fuel him through the last couple hours of his evening. I grabbed some at Wendy's on my way across town (working a little overtime, myself) and presented my offering. As we sat for a few minutes catching each other up on the events of our days he says to me: "I can't stop thinking about Sunday."

Me either. Me either.

a perfect day...

Kevin has been talking a lot about taking a "Sunday" drive this fall. Nothing fancy, nothing planned, just setting out and seeing where we end up. Well, that's exactly what we did yesterday. I wasn't playing this weekend so we hit the Saturday night service and headed out Sunday morning for Hannibal. I ended up deciding to head to Clarksville instead to see how much it had changed since we last meandered that direction, which was when Shawna was a little squirt, so off we went.

It was nice to see Kevin relax and take in the drive. Ironically, given his usual inability to stay awake at the wheel, he drove the entire day. Map in hand (it had been a while...) we turned east at Louisiana. Map in hand (my hand...) I had him turn a block too soon. Realizing the mistake, I had him turn south again and in doing so, spotted a steep hill on the street ahead of us. Somewhere in the ballpark of 25 years ago I had been here before. "We" had been here before. Trusting my memory, he drove up the hill and we were both delighted to find a small, but gorgeous riverview park. Though he doesn't remember being here before, I was amazed at finding the spot again after all these years. A spot, I was convinced had been in Hannibal, all these years, but in several attempts to find it again, had never been able to do so. It made my day. I remember his jeep parked there. I remember his portable black Weber grill. I remember our picnic and the romance of such a lovely impromptu drive. It was such a wonderful discovery; this small proof there was such a spot and not just in the recesses of my mind.

I wore flip flops like a dork and the air coming across the Illinois river was more than I was up to, so I wimped out and we headed back to the van. The grill has long since disappeared anyway, and I had directions to a bistro farther along where a nice hot bowl of soup had my married name on it.

We spotted a nice little pewter shop driving through Louisiana and decided to take a look. It took longer to agree on a parking place than it did to walk through (beautiful, but pricey) and once again we were on the road. He didn't seem to remember any of the landscape, but much of it was as I remember it. The river was lovely with enough color in the trees to bounce back the autumn sun. We found Clarksville in no time. The skyride wasn't open but it showed signs of the new ownership so we'll have to go back and take the kids.

We parked by the riverside park and made our way across the street to the bistro. The one I found on the internet. The one with the nice hot bowl of soup with my married name on it. The one with the big closed sign in the window, next to the FOR SALE information. We ended up slowly making our way through a block or two of artisan shops, taking in this little window into a life put on hold while we earn our keep and go about, and it was lovely. And simple. We followed the directions to a local winery I picked up in a glass jewelry shop, and more in pursuit of their bistro for a nice hot bowl of soup...than the wine, we went exploring.

Not sure why there's a resort in the hills of Clarksville (if they build it...) but there she was and in we went. There was a wine tasting and live combo. Neither whet my appetite. But I sucked it up and read the menu. A cold, pre-made chicken club out of the cooler, it is. The soup wasn't in the cards for the day as it turns out. We ate, we politely applauded the duo, and we left the premises with an opened bottle of local wine that ended up giving me heartburn. Retraced our path to Louisiana and crossed the Illinois into Illinois. Pathfinders we are.

An hour later I was in HyVee purchasing the ingredients for cheeseburger soup; not at all weight watcher friendly, but way up on the list of nice, hot bowls of soup. Took me over an hour to prepare but the hour after that, family was circled around it laughing and catching up. Game two left John upstairs alone by the 7th inning and found the rest of us playing a round or two of traveling bingo in the room below. It was a fine day. A memory day. A perfect day.

minus the beach...

Think of your favorite love song.

Cue it to your favorite part...

Now picture me turning left onto 15th street on my way home for lunch at the exact same time that Kevin is turning right onto 15th street a block away from me, on his way back to work.

Picture it again in slow motion.

Now didn't that make you smile? Me too. Me, too...

Dad was never a two-armed hugger. Well, not to me. It was usually a sidearm squeeze at most and always in response to mine. Last night he hugged me back. And he used both arms and held on. It was a great hug. The rest of the dream was littered with random scenes that made little sense this morning, but I got my hug. And he was smiling. Can't exactly explain the walk in the snow with Kevin, the water on the floor or the priest who was asking me for ideas about communicating brotherly love to his parish. But I had enough sense to set my "stuff" down and hug my daddy. I'm assuming the tall, awkward, rectangular, robot sort of looking thing, was some type of stereo since I was trying to get it to play something I wanted dad to hear, without it falling over on someone. Anyway, that's all I remember. That, and that mom wasn't there. And that he was a little skinny. Where's Daniel when you need him...

blessing sandwich...

Last Sunday night I sat outside at the picnic table in our backyard and laughed myself silly. For several hours I was afforded the chance to sit and visit with not only two great friends I don't see often enough due to distance, but a few local friends & family that I don't see as often as I could because busy schedules manage to muddle my better judgment and priorities.

A glorious night.

A bowl of soup.

And some of the most special people on the planet to me: all together, all good, all whole.

And this weekend? More of the same with two more friends I don't see often enough due to distance. Not a bad way to end a week that's been pretty great all on its own. And now to Him...