Three-fifths of the Peevies returned to South Haven last week, accompanied by our friends the Dr. and Mr. Paradigm Shift and their two kids, SamWise and E-Dude.
We staked out our beach claim, and headed out into the warm-for-Lake-Michigan water. While we were far out from the beach, on the sand bar past the over-our-head water, we noticed a blond-headed kid swimming toward us. As he got closer, I thought to myself, "Hey, that kid looks a lot like Type A, A. Peevie's good friend from school." But that would have been ridiculously unlikely, so I turned away.
He kept coming, invading our swim-space, but before I could get annoyed, I realized that it was, indeed, Type A, who lives a mile or two away from us in the city, but who somehow found us 130 miles away, in the middle of Lake Michigan, without pre-arrangement. I would like to know, if any of my readers have the statistical savvy and inclination to do the calculation: What are the odds?
The kids found a huge log, which they spent hours moving around the water. They used it as a flotation device, as a boat, as a king-of-the-hill prop. We could not have purchased a better beach toy. While they logged time lugging the log, the grownups sat on beach chairs, getting skin cancer, drinking carbonated beverages, reading Brave New World (Dr. PS) and The Second Civil War (me), and chatting about how perfect our lives were at that moment.
We played 500 off the deck with a soccer ball. We watched shows like People Getting Their Arms Bitten Off By Sharks and Jobs That Make Normal People Throw Up. Plus--bonus!--I got to watch my boyfriend Vincent in the season seven finale and season eight opener of Law and Order: CI. Sigh.
I miss you, South Haven. See you again in a couple of weeks, I hope.