Better Late Than Never

I spent the morning grading papers. I got through the last seven research-arguments, filled out the paperwork for my plagiarizers, and put everything on the computer so I could print out grade sheets. Their essays to be returned after the exam tomorrow are alphabetized by class. I'm ready to go.
I always have mixed feelings about the end of the semester. I can hardly wait for it all to be over, but there's a load of work to do. I'm looking forward to not having to go in to school, but I have to clean up my office. I'm tired of grading papers (the last set--the exam--comes in tomorrow) but I'll be leaving for Louisville in early June to grade a thousand or fifteen hundred AP exams in seven days.
Now I can finally sit down at the computer and compose today's blog. I was going to talk about the chicken and dumplings I made for dinner, but I didn't think they were very good, so I'll talk about something better.
We have friends--neighbors--who are the same age as Ben. They have a little boy, Sam, who will be two in October, and they're expecting their second child in September. They have a beautiful dog named Ella who is in love with Michael, and Sam can say "Mike."
They have a kegerator in their basement, which is almost always stocked with a quarter-keg of Yeungling. This has created a bond between Michael and Sam's dad. From time to time, Michael will walk down there and have a beer, or he'll receive a call inviting him down. This evening, just as I sat down at the computer, the phone rang, and it was Michael. He had gone over for a beer, and he called me to say that they were making s'mores.I probably wouldn't have left the house for beer alone, but the idea of s'mores at 9:00 was too tempting. I grabbed a flashlight and headed across the yard. Michael met me so we could take a couple of chairs along.
They have a fire pit at the end of their driveway, and it was burning brightly with several small logs. She had a bag of marshmallows, a pack of graham crackers, and some chocolate bars. She handed me a stick with two marshmallows on it, and I stuck them in the flames until they caught fire. I like my marshmallows burnt on the outside and runny on the inside. When they were ready, I made my little sandwich and tried to eat it in the dark. It was messy and delicious. The marshmallows weren't really hot enough to melt the thick sections of chocolate, but I didn't care. The man of the house had gone in and he came back with a tall, icy glass of beer for me.
I could probably go the rest of my life without drinking another beer and be fine with it, but there's something about the evening--the fire, the s'mores, Ella, the good company, the stories we told one another, the quarter moon and the big dipper overhead, the sparks, the quiet coolness--that made it enchanted and perfect.
We're lucky that way, to have friends who are wonderful people and with whom we can just be ourselves. We're old enough to be their parents, but, instead, we're just their friends. Thinking about the evening will relax me enough now so that I can go to sleep easily and wake up tomorrow morning to head off and give those exams. I was afraid today's blog wouldn't get done, but here it is. Goodnight.