August 11, 1991

We eat breakfast in a downtown cafe in Tomahawk, our regular Saturday afternoon stopping place, actually.  At a drug store across the street, a variety of Sunday papers is available.  I settle for the Tribune and buy a copy of the Journal for JoAnna.  At first, my time before our midafternoon departure is going to be spent lounging on the pier reading the papers.  The weather's too nice for this, an inner voice counters.  So I swim, float on a raft, catch some rays, then feel like a need a nap just minutes before we hit the road.  Traffic is rather heavy. A few miles north of Stevens Point, a clog develops, so I keep a distance until it unclogs.  All that lane changing is an accident waiting to happen.

It's great to see the boys again, although Andy is soon fussing once he realizes that departure for Disney doesn't happen until tomorrow.  He helps me water the garden and has a giggly fantastic time running through the sprinkler.  

August 10, 1991

The weather is perfect of laying out in the sun.  There's enough of a breeze to keep our bodies from sweating.  I lay out on the floating dock with JoAnna, Barb, and Diane until I feel parts of my body pinking out.  During the afternoon, six of us drive into Tomahawk for pie.  Later in the afternoon, I turn down a boat ride and enjoy an hour of solitude on the dock, reading a Shirley Jackson short story anthology.  "The Lottery" doesn't have the impact I thought it would.  I make a mental note to read up on the controversy.  

Once the group is together again, we watch the Packers game, cook out, and play Trivial Pursuit.  JoAnna and I win.  Bedtime is 1 a.m.   Only a couple of beers today, so I won't have to worry about a hangover.

August 9, 1991

Donovan and I meet at the Durrant office to review our notes-in-progress for next March's workshop.  Then I go out for breakfast and enjoy a leisurely meal at Original Pancake House.  Once again, there is a long wait from order to service, but calendar notes keep me occupied.

I work at the library from 11 to 2.  JoAnna and I leave for Tomahawk at 3 -- another weekend away from our boys, two in a row -- and arrive at Chuck's cottage at 6, making great time.  We follow last year's itinerary and have dinner at the White Stag, a 45-minute drive from the cottage.  The sliced heads of iceberg lettuce always get a laugh from us.  The steaks are great.  I opt for the "pound of pleasure" once again.  We stay up until midnight and chat.  Dave, Chuck, JoAnna, and I play sheepshead.