(Willow butter-poached lobster tail and lobster ravioli with creamy fennel gratin, savory & sherry sauce. Photo Socotra.)

I was walking in the late afternoon sun and thinking I might just start sweating. The conflict between the pleasant diversions of Willow and the allure of the sparkling blue waters of the Big Pink Pool is going to intensify, starting Saturday morning and lasting right through September.

I don’t know how to balance that: fitness versus company and crisp Happy Hour White. I suppose it will work out on its own, just like Raven and Magpie’s situation.

I went into the welcome darkness of the bar, and took the stool next to Old Jim. I was delighted to see Elisabeth-with-an-S on duty. It is not that Aimee is not a fine bartender, but she and Old Jim have been going at it over their approach to managing the flow of wine and beer from her side to ours, and I dislike discord.

Jim has been on the other side, on and off, for half a century, so he has some distinct and hard-earned principles about commercial alcohol sales, and naturally I defer.

“Hello, Jim,” I said as he disconnected himself from his MP3 player.

“Hello, Vic.” He said. I did not have to gesture to Elisabeth. She appeared before me with a bottle of something cold and pale and crisp and poured the tulip glass to a precise level of about 40% to ensure optimal dispersion of the flavor molecules.

“You are wonderful,” I said. “Truly the best thing that has happened in a long hot afternoon.”

She smiled that mysterious smile of hers and flipped a strand of chestnut hair over her ear. “Anything to eat?” she asked. “Jim ordered something that was not on the 5$ Neighborhood Bar Menu.”

“Really?” I said. “Will wonders never cease.” Sure enough, Julio appeared momentarily with a square plate adorned with a square biscuit topped with a mound of steaming lobster capped with some sort of edible top-sail that was connected by a swirl of rich cream sauce to some vegetables and an appealing mount of picked Chesapeake Bay crabmeat.

“Jeeze, Jim, the presentation is magnificent!”

“Indeed,” he said. “I liked the description in the menu. Sometimes you have to get off the second page and indulge yourself. “

Indulgence, I thought. There is a whole holiday weekend ahead for that. I had no more fumbled in my pocket for the camera to capture the image of the lobster than the phone chimed to indicate I had an incoming message. I documented the fleeting image of the food and then clicked into the e-mail tab on the smart phone.

Anook had written to my brother Spike to summarize the day. I frowned. I was going to have to engage on the taxes and the car titles and look at the bank statement to see if we could actually pay for the work that was being done to renovate the house in the little city by the bay.

“He is so skinny,” she started. “Magpie gets out of breath so easily. She is congnicent but loony tunes.”

“I talked with the RA staff at Potemkin Village about Raven’s state.  They said it was worsening, but we were not at the end of time.  I made an appointment for June 1st to have Doctor B check him over and see if it is time for hospice.”

I scrolled down on the little phone as Jim began to destroy the presentation of the appetizer with his fork.

“When I first got here, literally all he did was sleep and pee.  Wednesday was a good day, and I am sure it was about getting a shower, new shoes, 2 ensures, nails clipped and being shaved.  God bless Lovely Rita.  Today, I put him in the people-kennel in Traverse City.  He seemed to know I was letting him go for a bit.  I promised I would be back.  He said “Thank you.”

They were nice people there in a small locked facility. The guests seemed clean, happy and fed. There was a nice community room for all of them to share with a large TV.  He has a room and bath to himself and can safely wander the building at will.”

“This is great,” said Jim. “They really do a fabulous job here. Glad Tracy O’Grady is back from the restaurant convention in Chicago. The personal touch shows.”

I nodded and looked back down at the phone.

“Mom keeps asking about “that guy” she stays with.  We are all trying to figure out what the best course of action is tomorrow.   Mother has asked me several times to take her to visit the graveyard down in Ohio.  She told me she had no intention of being put to rest with all those people she doesn’t know (the Socotra plot in Shippensburg, PA).  I talked with Vic today and said we should cremate Raven and then wait until Magpie goes before a service at Shippensburg.  If we need to split the ashes and have some in Ohio,  so be it.”

Anook went on to describe an evolving plan that would still get magpie across the international frontier at Niagra and still meet the stringent Customs and Border Protection program to detect and deter elderly women who have lost their passports.

“We can get her birth certificate on the spot if we are in the County she was born.  We could then drive to Niagra Falls and cross over to see the last two days of our scheduled theater tour at the Shaw festival at Stratford.”

That was the fun part, and Raven was not the sea-anchor to Magpie that he is normally. But the problems with the house still loom. Jim smiled next to me over a forkload of lobster.

“There is a lot of elbow grease needed at home.  I lost six pounds Tuesday hauling junk. The work on the kitchen and laundry room should be done by the 16th (and the painting).  Then we should be able to clear out the house garage.  Magpie’s paperwork needs to be shredded (or saved) – and most of that is in the new garage.  Raven’s office is a train-wreck and needs someone that cares about it to go through it.  I think he collected office organizers and that most of what is there is nothing.

You and Vic should talk about dates to be up here.  I am all about the projects that need to be addressed at the house/new garage and the care and feeding of our beloved parents. We (they) are blessed by the people that do care for them and their happiness.”

Elisabeth came by with a beer for Jim and looked at the level of the crisp white wine in my glass. It had not changed appreciably since I began reading the note.

“Bad news?” She asked.

I shook my head. “No, just a process update. Everything is working out just fine.”

She flipped her pony-tail in that winsome manner she has and went out the tall dark doors and into the brilliant sunshine to take drink orders on the patio. I put the phone back in my pocket and looked on as Jim tucked the last of the lobster appetizer into his mouth.

Then I started to work on my glass of wine in earnest.

Copyright 2011 Vic and Anook
www.vicsocotra.com