Last night’s carpenter ants have so far not reappeared, knock on wood. Harry and Anne explored the secret crawl space today and found no more of them up there. It rained again. The outside bugs are bad, no worst. Hello Mother, Hello Father, and here I am at Camp Granada. Sorry folks, I had a momentary sinking spell there.
Jan came by this morning and clued us into a luncheon. Escape to town? Oh, yeah! It turns out that the Penney’s Kitchen crowd has moved their weekly luncheon from Monday to Tuesday and is now featuring a rotating venue. This week it was back to the Palace Saloon again for me. I like to think that it was this blog and not coincidence that drew them there.
I made nine at the table, after I parked the car. Harry wowed the women, while I figuratively held his coat. His trump card, which he did not show at this table, was the original 1922 deed to the land that the cabin and all its brethren are now built on. The land was purchased from a Minnesota timber company for the lofty sum of $500, which was borrowed.
Anne dimly remembers the Palace from Mac’s bachelor party in the seventies. The Palace was way more raucous for dinner on Sunday than it was for lunch today. Back then, for late night drinks, it was probably even more so. Anne remembers the bar being on the right of this 1903 established establishment, but it is obviously on the left as you enter from the front. I had the idea that she might have entered from the back, where the bar would have been on your right. Anyone remember that party? Anne remembers being bowled over by a drunk that was being frogged marched out of the bar. Then she was admonished for being in the way of this drunk and bouncer parade.
We wish to wish Carl an early Happy Birthday! To bad about the soccer game.
Not quite early – more like right on time, as was the Scorecard – much appreciated.