Across Borders

Sunday, March 18, 2012

So, yeah…
Car problems.
They weren’t the only ones. Rose had called in Saturday evening as Mom, Dad, Francis, and Linnea deposited Mom’s Fit on their driveway.
“The police towed my car for the parade,” she explained.
– Her third run-in in three months or less. –
“So I called them and they gave me another number to call. So I called them and they said they parked it seven blocks away. And when I get down there, they had ticketed my car for being parked in that spot too!”

The drive to church included a bonus rainbow across 40. Half of one at least.
“It kind of looks like a snake to me,” said Puck thoughtfully, “because I can’t see the other side.”

Puck heavily scribbled an offering envelope for Anneliese into something that resembled an angry black hole while one of the music men tested the microphones reciting a childhood story about pie…

Back on the ranch, Puck found a pink bunny container stuffed with equally pink translucent squishy putty glass-like goop, an immediate hit.
“Let’s put out a kitty trap, Puck,” said Carrie shortly later.
She placed a flat open box on the living room floor. Within minutes, Snuggles pawed at the back door and beelined for his newest seat in the house.
Carrie had also prepared a hot sausage, potato, and kale soup, whose name for which there was apparently no English translation, which was especially good. And a baked brie.
She talked to Dad about his diet program – he wanted to get down to his same weight of 155 pounds from back in Officer’s Training School. Dad wasn’t always so keen on Carrie’s methods of dieting, however.
“That’s what it’s like switching metabolisms,” Carrie explained.
“Switching to death,” Dad protested.
After Dad had cleaned the kitchen with Mom, he joined Joe in the living room. Snuggles was still hunkered down in the cat trap, which invited both boys, Dad and Joe that is, to begin slinging him – in the box – back and forth across the floor.
“Aw, Luther,” said Mom, “that’s what we used to do when we were first married. We would slide Panda back and forth.”
Meanwhile, Linnea-Irish had enjoyed her week with Cherry, which had included a sizable deal of time spent cleaning out the 19th century log cabin behind the school, brushing out the floors. Nagle’s. The mall and Zoo. Cheeseology with Rose. Youth service projects and slumber parties. Etc. and etc. And because the life of a social butterfly was always booked, Linnea soon departed for her next event – an afternoon at Ann’s house.
And Carrie’s Bon and Hamish were back for the week – spring break.

Around naps, a headache for OLeif, and Cards vs. Marlins, Rose arrived with her Windows 7 textbook to join the gang for a saunter over to Alton, after lodging a screw in her tire on the drive over. Car problems – good grief…
Meanwhile, Francis had spun Puck’s putty into a rather impressive lasso. Rose, newly marched in the door, something about…
“…blaming the police.”
– …and snatched away the putty as she walked by. –
“Ooh, biscuits,” she announced, eyeing hungrily the stack under glass.
“They’re from yesterday.”
Click, went the cover back over the plate…
“Yuck.”
Dad and the boys patched up Rose’s tire and jump-started the also-ailing green slug while Collette caught the last fuzzy minutes of Lance Berkman’s winning post-game interview on KMOX.

Mom and Collette hopped out at the store to tote in a couple of bags of chips, juice, some Hershey’s nuggets and York peppermint patties. The latter two were quickly disposed of as Joe found new and creative ways to wad the wrappers into lateral missiles, hurtling them across the van into the backs of various unsuspecting heads. Carrie more peacefully perused Melaleuca catalogs between discussing business with Joe. Rose attempted further study. And a few compared the whiteness of their teeth before crossing the border.
Shortly arriving in Alton, Dad made a sharp cut into the McDonald’s drive-through for burgers and fish sandwiches.
“Shamrock Shakes,” Carrie read an ad in the window.
“I’ll shamrock your shake,” was Joe’s predictable response.
Back on the road through rather… uncertain neighborhoods, flanking upscale old, old homes, Dad, making some wisecrack, was thrown a sort-of friendly punch in the shoulder across the aisle from Mom.
“Mom, don’t! They’ll think we’re part of a gang!”
The park was not far off, centered around a Victorian mansion and stained-glass playhouse, between which ran a narrow drive to a small parking lot.
“Oh, no, Dad!”
“We’re not gonna make it!”
“Oh, this is so embarrassing.”
“Aaaaaah!”
They made it.
The park struck up many textures – a block of sprawling green – generously sandwiched between Victorian mini monsters and ancient vegetation, sloping into three or more emerald hillocks into a basin below. Several tulip trees in white and pale pink dotted the top of the primary hill, shedding soft circles of petals beneath them. Joe thought these would make useful attack bombs. Scooping up the withered and still-damp blossoms into thick packs, he chucked them at several of his siblings. Taking off after Francis, he chased him clear around a corner of the park, Francis keeping just ahead, arms thrust backwards as he sprinted to avoid the blossomy shower. His efforts were not entirely successful, however, as he was shortly later doused with perfumy shells. As a result of Joe’s herculean endeavors, his flip-flop tore completely apart.
Collette inspected the large trees ringing the park whose bark had once been pressed-in with dozens of pennies. Either the trees had overgrown them in the past five, six years. Or they had been removed.
Once the sandwich items had been cleared, the boys (namely Dad, Joe, and Francis) found the need to test out the playground equipment, including a four-seated see-saw-ish contraption, on which Joe stood, balanced, while Dad tried to shoot him into orbit. This was not as successful as the up-hill sprint amongst the tufts of Irish green and bracken around which a man with a metal detector scouted for treasures. A few quick bets were placed as Joe crossed the finish line a fraction before his little brother – barefoot. Dad was not far behind, and soon departed to kick up the van once more which, with great relief, started fine – no problem. As they slowly backed out of the skinny parking strip, they watched the man with the metal detector count his coins.
On the road home, Joe – something about, “I played the ‘I’m just a lone wolf’ card. Scouting the wilderness for love and affection,”…
Rose speculating about intended travel to Spain or Italy and the “real Bald Eagle” they had at the Dog Town parade.
“Well I saw a real Bald Eagle in mother nature,” Joe retorted.
“No, you didn’t,” Rose replied smugly. “It was just a regular eagle with all its hair fallen out.”
Passing through St. Peters, the van lurched up the next hill, ready for the roller-coaster dip…
“Ready?” Dad asked.
They thundered through the gulch.
Groans.
Whoops.
“Oh, my hiatal hernia,” Carrie teased.
“So when are you going to get your highway fixed?” Rose joked.
“When is your highway going to be fixed?” Dad retorted.
“It is fixed,” Rose replied proudly.
“So now that Rose has been living in the city for a few months,” Carrie added, “everything is ‘hers’ or ‘ours’.”
“That’s because I have to,” Rose replied. “It’s the city way.”

And all the world was turning shamrock green again.