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By the time the alarm went off that morning, Rose was already on a plane to Vegas. Something about business-related disaster recovery training.

In Vegas.

“Crackers and I were just sitting in the kitchen watching the neighbor dog dig holes in his yard, like a show,” Puck told me later. “It was sort of like a little popcorn show.”

So, oatmeal. Devotions. Bær’s packed lunch [he took a sack of radishes on Monday; blehhhh…]. He fired up the stove [a sky-shooting scorcher on Monday; almost took out my Ikat curtains].

“UH! What is that SMELL?” Puck yelled over the sizzle.

“That, my friend,” Bær replied. “is the smell of beef.”

“Well, it is poison, folks!” Puck laughed, walking back into the living room. “Heh heh heh.”

Puck had thoughts on the morning devotion in conjunction with Monday’s history lesson…

“And if the fedder [feather] was heavier than the heart, it means he was good for the rest of his life, but that wasn’t true. Only God is only good.”

Bær cocked his head in a question.

I explained: “Egyptian death theology.”

Puck had been rummaging through the linen closet and pulled out a spray can of bug repellant.

“I need this, Mom. I got this poisonous perfume for Uncle Francis to shoot through.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He likes to shoot through stuff.” He held up the can. “This is more of Fran’s style.”

Seven PM, Spencer Road Library. Mom [after an emergency repair on the crown that had popped off when she bit into a Hershey’s bar] and Carrie joined me for Charlie Brennan’s lecture on his new book: Amazing St. Louis. Clearly Carrie and I were the only two people in attendance under 50, except for that random baby…