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Sunday, May 27, 2012
“Let’s take a road trip out to Oregon or something.”
This was not an atypical random suggestion from OLeif on the fifteen-minute Sunday morning drive-out scenario.
“Sure, if you can come up with the dough, my friend,” Collette replied.
“How many female deer do you need?” OLeif asked.
Ha… Ha…
Puck was taking after his senior version. When Collette gave him permission over breakfast to attend Children’s Church that morning, Puck began composing odes of gratitude to his mother, which eventually morphed into lingering ditties about eggs and chickens, etc.
There wasn’t much time between church and the game, so Puck was once again transplanted from the Mazda to the Honda as OLeif and Collette hit the road after a switch into baseball-appropriate attire following the service. This allowed OLeif to resemble a triple cross between golfer, bowler, and 18th century theologian, all at once.
An Italian sub boosted OLeif down the road as the thermometer blistered red, popping cartoon-like into a spring scorcher.
Approaching the stadium, OLeif – who was just that kind of guy – noticed a woman begging on the street corner.
“I’m going to give her one of our water bottles, ok?” he asked Collette. “Or a root beer. Actually, I’ll give her a choice. Well, it’s pretty hot. Maybe I should just give her the water. That would be better, right?”
Collette waited out the first half-hour under overhang while OLeif fried one row below the shade-line and enjoyed conversation with an affable gentleman who had played ball amateurly since 1968, and his nineteen year-old cosmetology-school-student daughter with a flock of in-flight birds tattooed on her back.
Working for at least an unswept series, Waino hit the dirt again, that six-foot-seven Georgian giant, resembling some gangly all-legs-and-arms space creature when running for first.
Success was guaranteed as Yadi cooked a Grand Slam in the first, Beltran a three-runner not long after, and Matt Adams struck his first big leaguer homer. All three were curtain-called. All three saluted.
Yadi was pulled for dehydration in the fifth and slapped with an IV, but survived.
More Radio Lab on the ride back in – regarding placebos.
Meanwhile, Carrie had attended the one year-old cowboy party for Paige Popp’s little fella. Dinner of quiche lorraine, dandelion leaf salad, and caramel apple cheesecake were in progress when OLeif and Collette returned.
Rose lounged on the little kitchen table.
Linnea, ready to hit the field for kite-flying with Gretyl, was not please about having to empty the dishwasher…
“Rose, I’ll give you a one-hour neck massage if you empty the dishwasher for me.”
“Uh uh.”
“Why?”
“Because your hours turn into five minutes.”
Linnea rotated to attempt two…
“Collette, I’ll give you free babysitting for the next seven years if you empty the dishwasher for me.”
Jacob and Esau.
Done.
“Hey, how come she gets to go fly kites?” Rose protested to Mom. “You won’t let me go to Argentina by myself, but you’ll let Linnea go to the schoolyard to fly kites.”
“Hey!” Carrie declared, opening the fridge. “Who got into the cheesecake?”
Everyone, including Dad, except for Francis – visiting a graduation party – watched Wallace and Gromit. And Rose laundry-toted off to Bible study.
Evening at home saw OLeif back out for groceries and thumbtacks.
It had been a long, long time since that one dark summery evening in 2004 when OLeif, Collette, Carrie, and Peter Pretzel visited the movie theater for some nerdy little film called “Napoleon Dynamite”.
It was time for a reprise.