Lakeside Musings

Good Friday morn, Stroock's Books commune.

The lake is like glass.

Life up here in the Northern Strategic Direction isn't much different than life in New Jersey. Mrs. Stroock works from home, anyway. We do here what we do there. 

We're racking our brain, trying to recall what our grandparents would do here when we were a kid, it's their house after all. They'd sit on the deck. My grandfather would tend to his pretty impressive garden out back (long gone now, but we still have the 'Mark's Farm' sign). My grandmother would go into Great Barrington and pick up the paper for my grandfather (he didn't drive). Later she'd cook my sister and me lunch and dinner. She's knit a lot. There was no TV. 

These days we're nagged by twin thoughts when at the house. First, there's work to be done. There always is. We could be cleaning, or trimming or pulling weeds or something. Saturday and Sunday are dump days, so we'll be hauling detritus up the mountain. 'I remember when all you had to do was drop off a six pack of beer, they'd take anything you dropped off,' our grandfather once said of the dump. 

Second, we should be doing more to entertain the kids. We shrug. Back in the 80's we didn't go to summer camp and were on our own. Mornings and afternoons in front of the TV, or playing with some toys, late afternoon through 10 outside with friends with a brief dinner break.

Yesterday we received the physical proof of World War 1990: The Weser, and we'll be reading it all weekend. This is it.

We submitted our latest 'what if' article last night. We await publication. Assuming they like it. 

Someone actually asked us a question on Goodreads. Huh. 

We have no opinions on replacing Boris. This blog wouldn't be the first to point out that the Tories have governed Britain for more than a decade and have done absolutely nothing conservative. Not even Brexit, which happened because of Nigel Farage. Screw them. 

Wanna know what's going on in the Berkshires, here's the Berkshire Eagle.