Lussmyer Adventures

            I’m not going to tell you about the fate of the Dreyer’s S’mores ice cream, but I will say that I hand-delivered the Tillamook Marionberry ice cream to my brother’s freezer.

            Our Kentucky relatives did not bring sunshine and heat.  Instead, they experienced the rainy “June-uary” weather that gives Seattle a bad name in some circles.

            Thursday, at least, was sunny, perfect for our rendezvous downtown.  Following a three-hour adventure on public transportation—bus, ferry, bus, bus, bus—my brother John and I had just walked across the skywalk to the front of the building where he works when we spotted Bob in a rental SUV.  He waved, John started hollering directions, and the next thing I knew, Bob was turning and we were running into the mercifully empty street and jumping into the vehicle just like in the movies.  That, perhaps, is one of the crazier things I have done recently.

            Was it Anthony’s where we ate?  At any rate, it was a fancy, schmanzy restaurant, and we sat outside at a patio table in the perfect sunshine of the day.  My order, named something like grilled salmon salad with strawberry sauce, was delicious.  I don’t remember what everyone else had, but it all looked delicious, too.

            Properly fed, we were ready to take on the city.  Some of you may not know who “we” is, but the first hint is that we all share the Lussmyer name and that I am the oldest surviving sibling.  Bob, the older of my two younger brothers, is the family entreprenuer.  He and his family live in Union, Kentucky, just across the river from Cincinnati.  With him were his two delightful teenagers, Richard (16) and Robin (14).  His wife, Lisa, was back in Union holding down the fort telecommuting for her Chicago job.  (I personally don’t know anyone else who lives in Kentucky and works in Illinois.)  John, of course, is my youngest brother, the computer programmer with an electric truck and four cougars.

            And, just to let you know, I honestly mean it when I say that Bob’s kids are delightful . . . and they have far more energy than I ever possessed.  Richard runs track and participates in speech and debate.  Robin plays soccer and believes that math is easy.

            So now the stage is set for this abbreviated account of our adventures.  We wandered through Pike Place and over to Pioneer Square, ending up at the truly wonderful chocolate shop where we succeeded in consuming lots of chocolate calories.  Before that was the Nike Store shopping experience and the various clothing stores.  We hung around downtown until after five p.m. and caught part of rush hour on the drive back to the island.  After dinner at the Freeland Cafe, for which no one was truly hungry (probably due to the soft serve ice cream at Iver’s in Mukilteo), we headed on home to hungry cougars and lonely kitty cat.

            Our itinerary Friday started with picking up Mom from Home Place.  She was thrilled to see the whole crew.  Despite the rather cold morning, we spent a little time out at Deception Pass State Park so Richard could do his annual rock climbing down on the beach.  From there we headed toward Anacortes to visit John’s friend Dave, who has an impressive collection of wildlife:  everything from peacocks and horned owl to cougars, wolves, and alligators. 

            The weather deteriorated quickly, and we found our way to Island Café in Anacortes in the steady rain.  Mom was pretty worn out from the morning’s activities (though she would never in a million years admit it), so we headed back to Oak Harbor and got her home just in time for some polka music.  From there we went to the Senior Thrift Store in Freeland (where I snatched up a hot pink kitchen trash can) and walked out on the tidal flats at Double Bluff in the drizzling rain.  It was a great low-tide experience.  Finally, we buzzed over to Langley, where we window shopped until we dropped.  After we swung by Payless to pick up some ingredients, Bob prepared one of his “simple” gourmet meals for dinner.  It’s nice to have a chef in the family.  We went over to John’s to watch the old family home videos on his big screen TV with Talina loudly grooming herself in her cage behind the couch.

            We spent the overcast Saturday morning with Mom, stopping at Windjammer Park and then taking a leisurely drive to Coupeville and the farmer’s market where we bought some of the coveted Brett’s Bread.  (Richard claimed the white loaf for their trip back, and we ate part of the whole wheat loaf the next morning.)  We had lunch at what I call the old Miriam’s since I never remember its new name--Coupeville Bistro?—and rediscovered that chicken nuggets and Mom do not a happy pair make.  She got pretty stressed with how “tough” the nuggets were and how crisp the fries.  Finally, I realized an intervention was needed, so I bought her a brownie, and in seconds she was a happy camper again.

            We drove back to Oak Harbor via Libbey Road and West Beach, took a little stroll with Mom in the courtyard at Home Place, and exchanged lots of hugs before we headed back to Coupeville.  Because of the clearing weather, we foolishly left our umbrellas behind in the car:  the rain started about the time the ferry to Port Townsend did and never stopped, so we walked through downtown long enough to get completely soaked.  On the ferry ride back, we listened to Richard’s speech and debate piece he is working on for the fall.  He promised to send a copy via email for me to proofread and critique.

            It felt good to just sit for a while at my house and dry out before heading for dinner at China City.  We went to Double Bluff to see it at high tide, and then headed home.  The party broke up by 9 p.m.

            And Sunday morning, the Kentucky clan took off for SeaTac and the long flight home.  I left for the pre-church flute warm-up, and John headed out still later to take Mom for lunch.  Since Sunday, besides eating a whole lot of S’mores ice cream (oops!  I wasn’t going to tell you!) I’ve mostly taken naps and worked on getting ready for my Friday flight to Pittsburgh. 

Postscript:  Inadvertently, I left out a few important details.  Richard bought red jeans.  Robin sort of learned how to wink.  Bob provided a great title for a book:  48 Hours to Winking.  John proved himself again the master of punning (well, Mom bested him once with her “dirty necks”).  I’m not sure what I did.  I’ll have to sleep on that.