July 7: We all ducked when a foul ball slammed against the net separating our front row seats from home plate at tonight’s Delmarva Shorebirds minor league game. We laughed (and ducked again) when a wild pitch knocked our (fortunately empty) beer cups off the cement ledge in front of us.
We chuckled as Rubble — a bulldog construction worker from Nickelodeon’s “Paw Patrol” cartoon — greeted pint-sized fans around the ballpark. We made “aw, adorable” sounds as I recounted to Jeremiah and his friends how I glimpsed a three-year old boy high-fiving Rubble and a three-year old girl waving sadly (“He’s leaving . . . Rubble is leaving!”) as the giant mascot moved away.
Then we shook our heads with bemused relief when customer service summoned me over the loudspeaker to collect my lost credit card.
July 8: “Don’t look, Mom.” Jeremiah heard me gasp as scoop after scoop of vanilla ice cream and rainbow sherbet piled into a blender. “I’m sure they’re making two sherbet freezes,” Jeremiah assured me. “That can’t all be yours.”
Yesterday afternoon, Jeremiah and I entered the Bethany Beach ice cream shop because he wanted a milk shake, and I’d sip a bit. We had denied ourselves boardwalk fries and frozen custard all week in anticipation of this moment. As Jeremiah pondered ice cream flavors, I thought how refreshing a sherbet drink would be for me. With orange juice!
We finally left the ice cream shop. Jeremiah was empty-handed, declining more than a sip of my freeze. Meanwhile, I hefted (and soon finished) a large cup of icy, yummy guilt.
July 9: Note to self: if the road signs to the airport want you to drive straight, do not turn onto “Airport Road” even if the GPS appears to suggest it. Another note to self: deactivate your “Share my Location” so that next time Nate and his surf boards can’t watch you driving hopelessly around and around the airport access road.
July 10: “One must not look as the priest enters Moloch.” Nate waved me away as I peered over his shoulder to inspect the espresso machine now perched on our kitchen counter. Nate explained, “My friend Daniel offered it to me; I didn’t wait for him to change his mind.”
Nate opened chambers, pushed buttons, and eventually placed a small cup in front of Moloch. “This is for you, Mom. Moloch is a benevolent master. His nectar is sweet.” (But not decaf.)
Bonus: “Do you know who Moloch is?” Nate asked. Yes, a Babylonian [actually, Canaanite] god. “And…” Nate showed me this movie clip, courtesy of Jeremiah, who helped name our new appliance last night: Metropolis (1927), directed by Fritz Lang. Terrifying. We’ll be good to you, Moloch. We promise!
Double Bonus: Jeremiah entered the kitchen. We discussed Moloch and caring for him. We actually need to make a token “offering” to activate his cleaning mechanism. And pointing to a removable chamber, Jeremiah added, “Every week we’ll need to lead the high priest to his ritual bath.” (As I write this, I shiver a little; it’s a good thing I’m newly returned from church camp and am able to keep my eye on the right prize.)
July 11: “Join us, Mom!” Nate and Jeremiah grabbed their gloves, a baseball and a bat and headed out to the front yard. I rummaged my glove from the shed and trotted out to join them.
The backyard of our ranch-style house is petite, but our front lawn is long enough and wide enough for playing catch and hitting fungoes. After awhile I was reliably catching the ball; I even reached far to my left to snag an errant throw (my equivalent of making a diving catch).
By playing in the front yard, we attracted interest. A landscape guy beckoned from the passenger seat for the ball. The parent of Nate’s long-ago basketball teammate stopped to visit. Finally, our mail carrier came by and we persuaded him to take a swing. After a “I-need-to-get-used-to-this” whiff, LeMarcus walloped the ball, sending Nate into our neighbor’s yard.
We all cheered, LeMarcus beamed (“you made my day!”), and he handed the bat back to me. “Ok, Miss Carol Ann. Let’s see what you got!” I whiffed, and LeMarcus went back to work. Soon, though, I crushed the ball (for me), just as LeMarcus returned to his mail truck. “Beep beep beep!”
Thanks for the encouragement, LeMarcus!
July 12: My neighbor had a choice: to allow 11-year old James to skim his backyard with a metal detector (and, perhaps, dig) or — in my neighbor’s words — “be that guy.” With a jolly good humor that surprised me, my neighbor not only said yes, but also escorted James and me around his backyard yesterday, asked respectful questions, and highlighted hidden storm drains.
Based on his study of 19th century maps, James believes an old springhouse lies buried beneath my neighbor’s backyard. And James is ready; his archeology kit features — among other gadgets — two magnifying glasses of varying power, a folding shovel and folding pickaxe, a digital microscope, and a pouch for artifacts.
As a thank-you present for my assistance, James gave me a $5 credit to use at our local bowling center. For my neighbor’s kindness, James parted an ivy-tangled patch to reveal a pair of loppers my neighbor’s son had misplaced months ago.
July 13: This is Day One of an epic summer vacation with my wonderful family from Iowa. (That’s the dome of the Iowa State Capitol in the feature image.) The photo below shows their arrival.
The photos I don’t have would capture Assateague ponies knee-deep in marshland, mermaid nieces frolicking in the waves, a nephew boogie-boarding in the surf, two adults reading (a little bit), and the waterfront view from a restaurant offering a sandy playground for kids and crab cakes and cocktails for adults.
I slipped away to write this post. We still have three hours ahead of us. Running around until dark! Ice cream cake! (Shhh … don’t tell them; it’s a surprise.) A movie! The next three chapters of our read-aloud mystery!
And eventually, Karolina’s and my favorite: Sleep.
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Fashioned For Joy 
A delightful post of joyful close calls and memorable bonuses.
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I appreciate this comment, Nes. Close calls, indeed, even though I didn’t elude the six-scoop sherbet freeze!
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Hi Carol Ann,
Your July 9 post cracked me up. Reminded me of the time I went out for an innocent hike last year, got hopelessly lost, called my son and ex for back up, and eventually had to call the police. Soooo humiliating. And I was so grateful to finally be back home again.
Love to you,
Carolyn
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Hi, Carolyn. It’s lovely to hear from you! Your story — now that I know it has a happy ending!! — makes me chuckle (I hope that’s ok!). I totally get the embarrassment. One time (before cell phones) I lost Kevin’s and my hiking map mere hours before we were supposed to check out of our cabin and catch a plane. We eventually following the sound of a lawnmower and walked home gratefully along a road. I would have welcomed the police!!
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Hi, Carol Ann – What a fun post. I promise not to tell about the ICC! 🙂
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Hi, Donna. Thanks for visiting — and keeping my secret!
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Blessings, D. Robert Chance
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Blessings to you too, Bob. I love knowing you occasionally visit. Hugs!
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I read your encounters with frozen delights in bewilderment … why did Jeremiah only barely have a sip? Why were frozen custards denied? Did I miss something?
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I am reading your July 12 entry again – James certainly is precocious and I had to check to see if I had misread “11 year old”. His expedition and explorations do sound like they are right up your street!
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Thank you for cheering on James! I met him while substitute teaching his fifth grade class, and he recently moved to my neighborhood. We do indeed have treasure hunting ahead of us!
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What fun that you meet up again in a different context!
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Oh, my healthy, athletic, exercising friend ….. (Jeremiah is just like you). One of us is not quite exercising as much as she should and therefore should moderate her intake. Meanwhile, Jeremiah very conscientiously manages his “treat intake.” So I joined him in planning our week at Bethany Beach around the one beach treat we would allow ourselves. (Ok, I ate dessert at church camp, but I decided that didn’t count.)
We decided on one milkshake between us. Except Jeremiah couldn’t choose a favor (c’mon, child: chocolate! or coffee! or even strawberry!) while I responded to the siren’s call of sherbet.
And so Jeremiah, who I now know doesn’t really like sherbet, consumed nothing, while I, well, let’s just say — back to my Peloton!!
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Ah, with your explanation, I see. Your planning is probably better than my Heck Care approach because despite the running, the menopausal metabolism isn’t great.
I will definitely keep your approach in mind as we set off on road trip to Ipoh, Malaysia next week – with moderation in mind, a doughnut or ice cream slipped in won’t make things too crazy 🥴😆❤️
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Everyone needs a high priest in the kitchen.
LOVE those ponies.
Speaking of archeology… have you ever seen the British TV show “The Detectorists”? If not, you might want give this quirky series a try.
And, what movie did you see?
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Thank you, Laurie, for appreciating our new espresso machine. I finally found room for it. Now if I can only teach him to make dinner….
I’ll pass your compliment on to Kevin. The ponies truly love him, and he’s got a good eye for capturing their moods.
I will definitely check out The Detectorists. I just found it on Roku and queued it up!
Finally, thanks for asking about the movie. It was “Freaky Friday,” one of my top five films of all time, along with The Philadelphia Story, You’ve Got Mail, Bull Durham and one other I haven’t identified. I think Jamie Lee Curtis won this year’s Best Actress Oscar because she was overlooked for her performance here. I’ve probably seen it 10 times!
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That was quite a movie round-up. Love the idea that Kevin is a pony-whisperer.
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New word of the day – fungoes – even when I read the meaning I felt lost, knowing less than zero about baseball!
I’m with Laurie about The Detectorists – such a gentle comedy – definitely worth catching.
Hope you have a wonderful holiday!
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Thanks for looking up fungoes. 🙂 Yes, baseball terminology can be bewildering. (Come to DC, Barbara, and I’ll take you to a game!!)
In our case, with my right hand holding our baseball bat, I tossed a ball up straight up in the air with my left hand, quickly re-gripped the bat, got into my “batting stance” and hit the ball as a grounder or fly ball. Nate fielded the ball, threw it to Jeremiah, who softly tossed it to me. I either hit that incoming ball or tossed it up in the air to myself.
Too much information! But your question hit a geyser of Baseball Love and I couldn’t help myself!
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🙂
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What a fun week you’ve had. I never knew that owning a coffee machine could be so challenging and fraught with anxiety. Be kind to Moloch, and – hopefully – he will be kind to you!
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I love this, Mr. P. We will take your advice! Kindness to all, even — especially — Moloch.
Moloch is actually quite a looming presence in our small kitchen, and his buttons, spout and maw for dispensing drinks simulate a face. Moreover, his red light blinks constantly and every now and then he growls. Our Black & Decker coffee maker is a bunny rabbit by comparison!
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Interesting that you attribute a personality to your coffee maker(s). We do too! We have a little Dolce Gusto pod coffee machine, who we call Gus. He looks – to me, anyway – a bit like a constipated chicken (sorry, Gus, but you know I’m right), and, unlike Moloch, is a meek, mild and modest character. For most of the week he sits atop the microwave, quietly watching us go about our culinary business. But on Saturdays, Sundays and Wednesdays (yes, we really are terrible creatures of habit!) Gus does what he does best, and makes us very happy. He’s just like one of the family.
Maybe Gus and Moloch could become pen pals, sharing pithy observations about their hosts, and swapping tips on new things to do with caffeine?
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I loved your account of your buddy Gus and his admirable service to you and Mrs. P. And yes, I’d love to read the mail between Gus and Moloch as they observe OUR odd ways!
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I love your concept of finding delights in everyday life. It’s such a positive and uplifting way to practice gratitude and mindfulness. You have shared some lovely delights in this post. Thank you for sharing your perspective and insights with us. I hope you continue to find and share more delights in the future.
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Oh my goodness. Thank you for sharing your very kind reflections and encouragement! I feel like I’ve made a new friend. 🙂 I hope you visit again and share your own delights and gratitude experiences with me.
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Such beautiful together times within family and community. Who says people don’t live any more as they used to? I’ll point them to you. And you also include a rare mishap, such as the circling. Sounds so familiar. I wish you a most wonderful summer. I’m moving out for the summer this weekend. My Slovenia awaits.
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Hi, Manja. I’m so happy you’ll be going home to your own family and community. Have a wonderful time. Of course, you also live life very fully, illustrated with gorgeous photos. I’d point people to you! Love, Carol Ann
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