Gene and I are heading for Calaveras County with my folks this weekend. We’re all renting a cabin together, which will give the ‘rents three uninterrupted days of carefully not mentioning marriage. It’s good practice for them. I mean, whether we get married or not, there’s only going to be a limited amount of time when they can talk about marriage, right? The few months we’re engaged, the actual wedding day, and then what? Are they going to sit around after we’re married, saying “So, when are you guys going to…stay married?” I think not. So you can see that these not-mentioning skills they’ll build this weekend will be vital for them.
If the above paragraph smacks more of dread than anticipation, don’t be fooled. I am very excited to spend three days in the mountains with three of my favorite people.
The first time Gene came to dinner at my house, when we were a freshman and sophomore in high school, I laughed so hard I nearly wet myself. I remember standing at the kitchen counter whipping cream while my folks and Gene sat in the dining room. They were making fun of me about something — I think my inability to whip cream — and I was in stitches. I am often impressed by how well Gene fits in with my laugh-a-minute family, but since that evening I’ve never really been surprised.
So bring on the lake boating, the rocks in the river, the wine on the balcony, the thick star pavilion, the nervous-making bats, the sunsets, the frog jumping contests, the bear figurines, the parents, the boyfriend and the rustic charm. Calaveras County, I am ready for you.
Photo by Lily.