7.00pm Saturday August 1, my parents' porch ....bugs

It is still light and warm here in upstate New York. I've awoken from a nap. Today Dad and I went for a picnic and a game of miniature golf. Dad made falafels and yoghurt dip this morning; Mom made her mother's Russian eggplant dip; I chopped up some tomato. We ate our middle-eastern lunch at Lock 9-C, where we watched a tall yacht and its four sailors rise up on the water and pass through the iron gate on their way to Chesapeake Bay.

I chose a circle of sunlight in a dappled field of trees for the site of our feast, and Dad and I leisurely ate. Afterwards we walked a bit, but we did not find any paths through the woods, so our exercise was short-lived. Instead we drove off to eat ice-cream in Granville before dropping by C's to see if her children wanted to join us for mini-golf. They didn't.

I had an excellent game of golf for the first half, mostly making par and hitting my shots just right, winning against my father. Once the course started to get fancy, with hills and passageways and shoots, my skills were outmoded. Dad and I tyed, both 9 over par.

Yesterday was a lazy day at home spent listening to the driving rain. Mom and I got out for a walk in the evening when the rain let up but it was mostly unpleasant: bug-filled, with my socks drooping and bunching down my heel in Mom's sneakers. As I said to Dad earlier today, bugs should be an adventure, not a lifestyle. I can barely stand visiting here, let alone image how I could live here amongst the mosquitos, deer flies, Lyme's-diseased ticks and wasps. But everyone's cottage gardens are blooming thickly, so that's something.