Apples & Pizza

Joe turned around to us as he and Jaya took a seat just before the service started.

“Jaya just ran ten miles,” he told us proudly. Although when he realized that he also wanted to sound somewhat impressive, he added, “I ran eleventy-twelve.”

About ten minutes later, they became church members.

Mom had arranged for us all to go apple picking that afternoon. After chili-cheese-bean dip, it was one big happy joy bus thundering through Marthasville and beyond to Thierbach’s Farm. This time, Jaya’s family joined the joy bus, in their own miniature version, aka mini van.

Jaya’s little brother, adopted from China several years ago, is a young buddy for Puck to goof around with. And while everyone split out to pick jonagolds and super reds, or whatever, Carrie hunted up apple sticks for the buns and I poked around in the dirt for arrowheads. You never know.

Puck chomped into about his third apple with an enthusiastic, “THIS IS SENSATIONALLY DELICIOUS!”

Apple cider slushes – being not a huge raw-apple sort of person myself, that’s what I had been waiting for.

Philly’s Pizza.

We passed around breadsticks before the main course (Irish contributed the mac ‘n cheese topping selection) while Puck and his pal played imaginary battle in our own separate party room, exploding cannonballs and bows and arrows into nearby dads and uncles. The little buddy eventually paused long enough to touch El Oso’s beard in admiration.

“SANTA CLAUS!”

Hit the road home under late gold sun, still full-green forests. Joe mangling the lyrics to “Sweet Caroline” on the radio. Francis napping. The girls playing “Which Cardinal,” a revisit from Spring Training. I think the latest question had been:

“If you were in a sinking canoe in the middle of Lake Michigan, which Cardinal would be the best chance of getting you back to shore alive?”

I think Peter Bourjos was the favored answer.

Anyway, about a typical joy bus ride and afternoon for the Snicketts family.