57 & 20

Sunday School – rows boxed in with perfumes, coffees, and sweater must. Some weeks are more smushed than others. Fortunately for today, there was less sense of must.

Because the weather was fine. The kind of fine that meant temperatures in the mid-60s or higher. This also meant Puck had hours outside with many friends, tearing around from one yard to the next – tree house, hammock, swing, army gear, etc. Shedding winter scales.

Double-birthday.

This meant barbecue (Grandma bussed that in, Francis chauffeuring), chopped potatoes, with green beans and corn on the side (I’m sure Francis personally requested the veg). Also, cans of Vess black cherry sodas (grape for Linnea), one of Dad’s favs. We sent him out to get another tray after he demolished the first one during the week.

Francis tore through the tissue paper – Japanese make-your-own mini burgers, fries, and cola kit.

“Figured I’d give you some burgers you could make for yourself for once,” I explained.

“Oh, yeah! This is cool! Collette, could you make these for me?”

Seriously?

Next package – two boxes of Krusteaz beer bread mix from Grandma.

“Oh thanks, Grandma! I was just hoping Carrie would make this for me.”

Hopeless.

Dad’s gifts came in the form of practicality – book and ash-removal equipment for the wood-burning stove.

“Cinderelly, Cinderelly…” Carrie sang.

After probably the absolute worst-ever double “Happy Birthday” singing I have ever heard, over Reeses chunk ice cream cake (Francis) and Tippin’s key lime pie (Dad), we updated each other on Disney World operations, t-mius fifteen weeks. All eleven of us driving cross-country in Goldilocks; should be fun times.

Meanwhile, Pumpkin waddled herself over Francis’ gut while he sunk into a post-ice-cream nap. When we said our farewells half an hour later, Francis slumbered on.

“Bye, Francis!”

Zzzzzz…