Fry Day

Thank God It's Friday. TGIF just doesn't mean much to me anymore. As my brother so often said when he first retired---every day's a Saturday. Nowadays, though, Fridays do mean no dinner to cook. Bill comes home from work, eats a snack or two, reads the paper, watches the news, dozes off for a few minutes and then we go into town to dinner.

It was absolutely amazing last Friday when we checked out almost every restaurant in town during our snowy walk, finally settling on Jalapenos cuz the wait wasn't so long, and as we sat waiting, out walked Bill and Connie Madsen Malone. They'd just finished their meal.

Just like clockwork, they were slightly ahead of us in their Friday night dining routine, and, as happens almost every Friday, whatever restaurant we happen to pick, Bill and Connie are there first. I'm beginning to wonder if we have a hidden camera in our brains. I don't know how long this restaurant rendezvous string is gonna go on, but it's nice to know we'll see them at least once a week.

Years ago, Fridays meant French fries at Connie's with my sisters and with whoever else wanted to come along. Ranch dressing was the big draw. I think Connie's came up with that combination long before anyone else in town. The gathering for gobbling and gabbing was our way of celebrating the completion and survival of another week in the classroom. We also let off a lot of steam while discussing each week's imps.

After the French fry session, I usually went home and crashed. It was the only time during the week to do so because along with me always came a pile of papers to grade and lesson plans to devise for the next week.

Now, as a retiree, I find that the days tend to run together. Friday is still special, but not quite the golden day it used to be. As a freelance writer, I know no weekends---just deadlines. It doesn't matter what day of the week the story is due, it's always gnawing away at my mind until I've finally pushed the "send" button, and it zips off to an editor.

After a short break from deadlines, I'm finding on this TGIF day that three stories will be looming over me within the next three weeks. "Love Notes" goes tomorrow, and it's just about completed. I'm focusing on the cat-bite saga, and I've received some excellent medical advice from Dr. Tricia Dickens, one of Mother's five doctors this past week.

Mother loves her doctors but has a extra special admiration for Dr. Dickens, not only because she's a very knowledgeable down-to-earth physician but also because she practiced her specialty at Borgess Hospital in Kalamazoo, Mich. The hospital is right next door and connected with Mother's alma mater, Nazareth College. Ya don't often meet folks from Kalamazoo in Sandpoint, so Dr. Dickens has received a special place in Mother's heart.

Back to the stories: In early March I'll write a story based on some interviewing I'm doing right now with a couple in England who own Appaloosas. The great part is that their Appaloosas descended from our dad's world famous foundation stallion Toby I.

The other great aspect of this story is that until 18 months ago, the couple lived in County Cork, Ireland, and they were very dedicated to getting Appaloosas established in the Emerald Isle. With my own Irish background deeply rooted in County Cork, this should be a fun assignment.

Later in March, I'm doing a feature for Sandpoint Magazine about pontooning. Some will be based on my sisters' and my pontooning experiences last summer, while, overall, I'll touch on the big and little of pontoons. I'm told that Brian Wood may own the biggest pontoon/houseboat on the lake. I've learned that Tom Anderson, owner of Sandpoint Outfitters, is a pontoon aficionado, and that John Knowles built his own pontoon houseboat from scratch.

So, on this TGIF day, I'm formulating lots of questions to glean lots of information for those three assigned stories. And, there'll be no French-fry period to gasp a sigh of relief until every last word in the "Pontooning in Pend Oreille Country" story has gone to bed.

For all those who still enjoy the purity and exhilaration of TGIF, I send you wishes of a wonderful weekend from this poor ol' retiree who's still sweatin' eternal deadline stress.