A Frances Birthday

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Francis’ birthday began with Collette kicking herself for not thinking. If only she hadn’t snipped the end of her braided hair tail an inch shorter, it would have been the perfect length to send in to “Locks of Love”. She determined to let it grow another year and a half or so and then trim it off again.

But the morning had brought with it clouds from the very skies of the Sistine Chapel, deep violet tipped in brightest white against a canopy of blue… with a pot of melting gold in the east, just beyond the horizon, reflecting a Garden of Eden light off the trees where sparrows played tag among the branches. It did promise to be a beautiful morning, as was the day before.

Oddly, Monday had brought a dream to OLeif that Collette wondered at. In his dream, they were headed to Australia with several others they knew, to pick up Elazar for Carrie.

At the house on that Valentine’s Day the air was fresh and new and springlike. The windows and doors were opened to the lovely zephyrs and all was very un-February-like. Upon arriving, Collette was greeted by Rose who had a lovely poof of hair clipped high on her head.

“I’m Kiera Knightly,” she announced, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

She told this tidbit to several people, several times over the course of the afternoon. Her hair did resemble the British actress’ locks in “Pirates of the Caribbean”.

Meanwhile, Chinese was being studied by Collette, and everyone else was gathered around Carrie, who was on a new record in the latest fad computer game. This time, she was saving tomatoes from being smashed on the floor, by bouncing them with a spatula to the table on the other side of the virtual kitchen. As silly as it sounded, they were all hooked.

As Collette fixed red and white heart-shaped pasta for lunch, and mixed lemonade, Carrie concentrated hard on the bouncing tomatoes, the knot of hair on the top of her head bouncing from time to time when she nearly lost one.

“This teaches me to prioritize,” Carrie commented. “It’s actually good training for the Secret Service. But I don’t like those strawberry-shaped ones,” she noted aloud. “I should just let them drop.”

“Carrie, you have the responsibility to protect not only the ones you like, but the ones you don’t like,” Collette laughed.

Later in the afternoon Carrie was on the game once again, as Collette’s lemon cakes baked in the oven.

“No!” She yelled from time to time, as several tomatoes landed in unhappy heaps on the floor.

But then they were all outside and Carrie took Francis and Linnea up in the tree house in the cool winds and mid afternoon sunshine. It was a peaceful day. But a package soon arrived to greatly disturb the peace, for it was a shipment of several pairs of novelty underwear. Carrie began displaying each piece from the tree house.

“Oh, here’s mine. Aren’t they cute?”

Everyone else laughed from the picnic tables as she flew the underwear from her perch. It looked like a watermelon with green lace edging.

“Carrie!” Mom scolded, but laughed. “Put those away.”

“OK – but look really quick – here’s Rose’s.”

And those were spring green with white polka-dots. Carrie and Rose continued to giggle. Collette just shook her head and laughed.

Soon Dad was home and there was a congregating in the kitchen for bon-bons. They casually reviewed the day.

Dad ignored most of these ridiculous matters, and the subject was changed.

“Wait, Dad,” Carrie said, “I’m going to bounce this ball off your shiny little head.”

She crinkled a bon-bon wrapper into a ball, and tossed it. Perhaps she missed – Collette couldn’t remember, as she suddenly recalled what she had to say.

“Guess what, Dad. Colorado is proposing to Lacey tonight.”

“Colorado who?” Dad asked.

“Colorado Lord-Welches,” Mom, Carrie, and Collette said at the same time.

Dad had a way of asking such a question every time an old friend or member of the family was mentioned. He liked to aggravate them.

“It’s going to be very sweet,” Mom said. “He’s taking her to an ice rink tonight and she doesn’t know about it yet. And he already had this special cookie made for her at the Cookie Factory, or some place like that, and it’s going to say ‘Will you marry me?’ And then when they’re out there skating, he has it planned so they’ll play their special song and one of the rink guards is going to bring out the cookie, and he has the ring in his pocket. Isn’t that sweet?”

“Hmph!” Carrie reasoned, regretting the arrival of yet other engagement.

“And he wants them to be married by September,” Collette added.

“They’re just playing house, like all these other kids,” Carrie philosophized once again. “They’re out of their minds – all of them.”

And that was that – the seventh wedding of the year. But then Mom and Dad went out for El Maguey, dropping Collette off at the apartment while there was Cecil Whittaker’s pizza for the kids at home.

OLeif was back, and they went out as the evening kept the lovely cool of the day. There was a box of new Legos to pick up for Francis’ birthday, a film with their free coupon of the month – an Icelandic film entitled ‘Noi’ – and there were burgers, fries, and sodas for dinner. It was a pleasant evening for a Valentine’s Day. And Francis’ birthday promised to be just as fine.

For the past two days, Collette had noticed a little bird flitting in the berry tree over-hanging the balcony. He had the most unusual red on his little person – as if the color was whispered onto his feathers. He was a living sunset, it would seem – a fire red, with brown under his ruffled belly. He was a most amusing little character, running from his other brown-feathered friend.

Chinese was in its second day, and although Collette was not entirely sure she could master a foreign language any time in the near future, nor anyhow on her own, she was determined not to make a chore of it, but rather debate over each syllable, each initial, final, and character and tone in her mind, until she had it mastered acceptably. Should it take ten years, she would not mind. At least she might be able to put it to some good use. She would spend six hours daily (but no more) if there was enough material to cover.

She might even learn to drink tea or maybe not, but at least put a pot of hot chocolate on the stove, and drink from her little blue and white Chinese cups perhaps. They could use a good dusting. But she would just enjoy what she had before her. She might begin growing a little bonsai tree and prune it while listening to Chinese dialog, or while listening to “Mulan” in Chinese with English subtitles, if she could find such a thing. She would infiltrate her hours at home with Chinese. She might cook up some stir-fry for OLeif or learn how to make some special sweets directly from the country. And she would find a script-set with the proper brushes and ink once she began to understand the trick of the script-writing.

OLeif was soon back for an extra sandwich and two quarters for a bottled drink, as the water at work had an odd tang to it. He did look pretty cute, driving back off to work with his little sandwich wrapped in a napkin and him looking so sharp in his dark blue shirt. As she waved goodbye to him, she saw the clear blue skies, and knew there were storms on the way that afternoon. There were darker horizons coming. But the winds were a lovely seventy degrees, and all was beautiful out.

It was within the following hour that Mom and Grandma Combs dropped by the apartment to see it. And Grandma had a special gift for Collette – a lovely card of congratulations and encouragement, which she placed by her two other very special cards (one also from Grandma Combs which she received at her wedding shower entitled, “(Collette’s) Hands”, and the other from Dad which Mom handed to her in the dressing room moments before her wedding ceremony).

There was a very generous check from Grandma tucked inside her card. She was always looking out for the best for her grandkids, all of which she called “pumpkin” from time to time. There was always something interesting to tell or give whenever she came over. And she knew all their interests, everything they liked, and she would watch for something for them whenever it might come along. She followed God and reminded them all often of how faithful He was. That was Grandma Combs.

Collette opened the windows once again to the afternoon breezes as the warm temperatures succumbed slightly to the dipping sun. A winter berry candle was lit and a glass of juice was poured as she continued studying Chinese characters with a break now and then for other things.

Pat of Silverbush was always ready for a good reading. There was nothing like a clear blue late afternoon sky filled with puffy whites with a chance of storms coming in from the horizon. A nd so there would be roast chickens for Francis’ birthday dinner and the wind curled in the blue and the afternoon was good.

Collette heard of a family that afternoon in Mandan, North Dakota. They enjoyed canoing and had dinner on the beach of the river one evening with Scandinavian waffles. At home they spoke strictly Norwegian and the young girl was presented with a bouquet of sunflowers after her folk dancing performance. Everyone had a different story and there was always something interesting to share.

There seemed to be some unspoken mutual bond between Collette and OLeif and their Canadian friends downstairs. True, they had hardly ever said more than a dozen words between the four of them, but it was a little special thing in Collette’s mind. Perhaps it was because they were both newly-weds. But she enjoyed noting the times they were gone as opposed to the times they were away, when they went grocery shopping and when they didn’t.

At home, Francis was quite excited about his birthday. The sun was just going beyond the storm clouds in all its rosy velvet glory. The candles were lit on the table with bowls of all good stuffs, including scrappings of hot white roast chicken and Mom’s lavender blue stone bowl of crispy French fries. And Pumpkin was snuggled in the living room window, ready to greet the rain.

Linnea was anxious to know what Francis was receiving for his gift from Collette and OLeif, and so she was told by Collette on payment of serious trouble if she told him.

“Don’t worry,” she spoke seriously, walking backwards up the basement stairs as Collette followed. “My lips are peeled.”

At dinner and during the opening of presents, there was the usual hilarity and joking amongst everyone there gathered. The special sparkling glasses were used once again, dazzling the table with rainbow light.

“I think this could give you seizures,” OLeif said, sticking his eye inside the cup.

He quickly pulled it out and rubbed it.

Linnea and Francis had been presented with similar dazzling sparkles placed inside squishable rubber jewelry-type rings. They had been swiped by Carrie at a wealthy function at Columns where they had been party favors.

“Yeah, one old coot had five on one hand,” she was saying. “They saw us start to take them, hiding them under the glasses as we took them off the tables. And once mine accidentally went off, so I ran off and left.” She laughed. “But then the guests started trying to tempt us to take more, setting them out in the middle of the table, and we were all swiping them. I got like five, but I traded most of them in for sodas from the Serbs…”

Presents were always amply appreciated by Francis in particular. He was always able to express his gratitude in a most genuine way, and there were hugs and “Oh my goodness-es” and “wows”, as he unwrapped the gas mask from Carrie, the army shirt, caps, Eagle pin from an antique army hat, and tractor trailer with matchbox cars from Grandma Combs, and then a beautiful pillow and blanket Mom had sewn for him. And on the front was a peaceful garden with the twenty-third psalm, which he read aloud upon opening, from the pillow cradled carefully in both hands. (There was a special place he had in his heart for that passage, a ritual between himself and Mom.)

And then there was the BB gun. His heart about exploded with delight upon seeing it. Then there were Styrofoam wars as the boxes were shred to bits by Linnea and Rose, for no particular reason.

“Clean up the Styrofoam, you big Lop!” Grandma had commanded Rose.

Francis’ birthday seemed complete, except for the delicious desserts of chocolate cake, ice cream, Grandma’s special yeast cake, and frozen root beer float cups.

Pumpkin was sure to have a dreadful stomachache after all the chicken and chocolate ice cream she had been into. Naturally, Snuggles helped polish off the remains as well, but knew better than to be so greedy.

Meanwhile, Lucia had called twice during the meal and dessert, announcing to Carrie that she had met her soul mate at the Pageant the night before. The lead singer of “Crossfade” had moshed into the audience and passed her. Lucia, never one to miss an opportunity, had asked him for his number. He laughed, saying he didn’t have a phone.

Lucia insisted saying, “Well, at least say you’ll be my Valentine.”

He had laughed and squeezed her arm, and from then on, Lucia was smitten. Carrie received the big news, encouraging her to call the number found on the Internet, and email him through his fan mail website. Collette knew there would be a new engagement ring on her finger come the next time they got together. How many she had already been through, she was unsure.

And then of course, there was the showing of the latest to Grandma – the bouncing tomatoes and the attempt at registering her in an Oreo Cow fan club. She settled on bidding on an Oreo Cow bath towel on eBay with Carrie’s help, as they were leaving. And then Dad and Linnea had their nightly ritual, as Collette came back to say goodnight to the kiddoes.

“This is bowling for Linneas,” Dad said as he folded up a small fleece blanket into a square wad. “You ready, Linnea?” He asked.

“OK, just a minute.”

Linnea flipped herself upside-down, bracing her hands on the bottom mattress of the bunk, and tucking her legs until they fit snuggly up against the frame of the top bunk. In this most unlady-like position, her face turned into a wide giggle as Dad lunged the blanket at her. The first time he missed and knocked over the silk plant on the Grecian stand near the bed.

“Oops,” he quickly hurried forward to re-set the plant.

The next attempt worked perfectly, although Linnea managed to keep her balance, and continued to laugh as Dad tried for a third time.

But it was then time to leave, and there were the usual goodbyes and waves as they drove off into the night in enough time to get home before the hail began to fall, only the size of black-eyed peas, but a pleasant sound on the roof. And thus went Francis into the realm of the double digits.