The sun is shining, the day has a breeze and breakfast was delicious. I had dropped eggs on toast as we used to call them when I was little. It had been so long since I’d last had them, I enjoyed every bit. From there on the day got miserable. I won’t go into a description lest I put you off your feed for days, but I will say the best part of the rest of the morning was finding cat throw up in two places, including the couch. Let your imaginations soar for the rest.

Today I have a couple of errands, but I won’t go until later in the day when the crowds are lounging on the beach catching rays.

I remember best the tartan jug which always came with us on family outings. It came with us to the beach, the drive-in and on long rides anywhere. I can still see my dad tipping the jug to get the last of the bug juice. Once it was gone, all of us being thirsty at once was inevitable.

Needing to go to the bathroom was a mortal sin on any drive. It irritated my father beyond description. Once he’d stopped, we were all forced to go whether we needed to or not. Beware my father’s wrath if any of us had to go within an hour or two of the last stop. Moaning and crying that we didn’t have to go then made no difference. A pit stop was a family affair.

We seldom stopped at other than picnic areas. My parents packed most foodstuffs because a food stop was too expensive. Once in a while we’d stop for ice cream, and that was always a huge surprise. We’d stop at stands to buy fresh corn and tomatoes, but they never counted. They were vegetable stops. I’d look out the window at all the places along the road. Their big wooden signs advertised hot dogs, hamburgers, candy and popcorn, and I’d wish we could pull into the parking lot, but we never did; instead, I’d reach into the picnic basket for a bologna sandwich and a couple of Oreos.