How Susan spent her summer vacation

I spent last week on Hood Canal in a two bedroom cabin built by my father in 1959. There's nothing fancy about it, but, oh, mama, its physical location just flat-out does it for me. Spending an entire week there (which I only have the opportunity to do once a year) always refills my well. Hey, just look at that view. It never fails to lower my blood pressure and mellow me out.

We who share the cabin, plus a boatload of relatives from my mom's side of the family, all arrived the first Saturday of my vacation for the annual family reunion. That's an always noisy, confusing and very satisfying event. I got my hands on my 17 day old great niece, the Triplets' brand new sister--and managed to hang onto her for quite awhile before one of my cousin's snatched her away from me. My cousin Jan arranged a send-off for her dad, my Uncle Jack, who died this summer. We talked often and loudly. Laughed a lot. Ate too much. Business as usual, in other words.

Some of the kids patiently listening to Uncle Jack's favorite Josh Groban song before setting their message-laden balloons free

My cats hid in the woods until everyone went home (with their dogs) late Sunday morning. Around the same time that Mojo deigned to show himself, my son, who's a chef so therefore works different hours than most people, arrived to spend his weekend (Sunday and Monday) with us. The soulmate found Boo under the shed a couple of hours later. Over the course of the next 8 days, Mojo--generous soul that he is--presented us with a minimum of 7 mice. We learned to shut our bedroom door after a 2 am wake up where The Boys were chasing each other around the room. When I got up to shoo them outside I saw that Moj was packing another present for us in his mouth.

We saw innumerable seals. A couple of eagles and a heron. Kingfishers and Osprey and a bat. A mess of flying ants, which come out of this one log every night just after sundown. And a doe and her two fawns that we spotted once in the back yard and once on the beach.

My sweet baby boy caught a steelhead. Even better, he fried it up in cornmeal and ladled a wine-butter sauce over it. YUM. We also ate oysters and crab courtesy of Hood Canal.

Our last Saturday night, Steve removed the sails from his boat and pulled the rudder and we rowed down to the state park. (I rowed there, he rowed back) It was almost fully dark when we got back and we were greeted by a black lab with a four foot stick, which he promptly dropped at my feet. I'm a chump for water dogs, so I threw it for him.

He flung himself into the water with great enthusiasm, swam out to get it and, of course, immediately brought it back it to me. What amazed me, though, was how mannerly he was. Steve still bears a scar below his eyebrow where Jude, our long-gone Irish Setter, laid it open with the bony point of her head when he reached for her stick one time as she was jumping up in preparation for the mad dash to fetch it. The lab was soooo much better behaved. He'd come out of the canal, walk up the beach away from us to shake out the water, then bring over his stick (or maybe hers--it wasn't like I could tell in the dark, but I called him buddy anyhow) and drop it couple feet from where I stood. He'd wait for me to toss it then launch himself back into the water to retrieve it and start the process over again.

I threw until I could no longer see to pick it up, then went and sat on the edge of the deck to see if I could catch a meteor streaking across the sky (only saw one all week, but it was an orange beauty). The dog followed me, dropped his stick at my feet, then backed off about ten feet to wait. I was pooped by then, ignored him and eventually went into the cabin. When I looked out, it was to see him retrieving his stick, which he trotted off in search of, I'm sure, a more indefatigable thrower. He had his routine down pat, but he was so sweet and non pushy about it that I'm pretty sure he gets more retrieving time in than your average water-lovin' dog. And he was, for me, the cherry on the cupcake of my vacation.

It's been a busy and often stressful year, and those 9 days were just what the doctor ordered. I came home refreshed and ready to tackle the last of my book. But how about the rest of you-- what have you been doing this summer? I know Lori's been RVing. Have you taken a vacation to refill your well, caught the sunset show to ease your soul, or enjoyed a moment observing the various wonders of nature, be it flora or fauna? Has your dog or cat or kid given you a good laugh?

What busts your stress?