August 23
Monday, August 23, 2010
All quiet on the Western front…
Mom, Francis, and Linnea were back to their first day of the school year at Classical Conversations.
Carrie-Bri was at an appointment, obliged to use Collette’s car, as transportation availability was limited that day…
And Joe was at his first day of class, beginning with Graphic Design IV.
In the early afternoon, Carrie-Bri and Collette mixed up challah bread together. An hour and a half later, they kneaded out two batches and braided them, ready for a second rise before baking. Challah bread was one of Collette’s favorites, certainly.
The evening was reserved, again, for movie night.
“So…” said Rose. “When you’re at the office tomorrow, and a man comes in with a gun and he’s angry because a bird at the church pooped on his car, what will you do?”
“Uh…” Collette laughed. “I worked at the office for five years before, and I never had anything like that happen…”
“But what if it did? Or if a little old lady came in all mad with an elephant gun…”
“Rose, the weirdest thing that ever happened at the office was someone calling in asking for financial assistance to pay for their false teeth, and I’m pretty sure that was Joe Elder, because it sounded a lot like a dude trying to sound like a woman, and he had just prank-called me the week before or something, so…”
“You should have told that person that George Washington had pig’s teeth. So they should go find a pig and that would take care of their problems,” Rose replied, settling the situation.
Later, as they were feasting in the basement, Rose spoke up again. “Collette, you made your cardinal sin. You bought Vitamin D milk.”
“I didn’t buy that. OLeif did.”
“Cardinal sin?” OLeif asked.
“Collette doesn’t like it.” said Rose.
“Too much fat in it. Could give heart problems…” Collette replied.
“That’s what the pioneers drank,” said Rose. “So that’s what I drink.”
Half-way through their film, Collette and Rose hit the night for Dairy Queen, which included a small midnight truffle blizzard for Collette.
“There are the mist-wreathed rain forests of the west and north, where you can find fifty-three distinct minority tribes — each with its own colorful costume, customs, and tongue — hunting, still, with bows and arrows, and if asked how old they are, answering ‘ten or fifteen water buffalos’ lives’. There are the atmospheric old French villas… peeling behind coconut palms and green gates… the exquisite temples and remains of the fourteenth-century Cham civilization… ‘brilliant and neurotic’… the illuminated lanterns and oil-lit lamps along the crooked streets at night, which take you back to the Indochina of your dreams… and… the urbane pleasures of white-linen restaurants serving mandarin juice and coq au vin while serenading you with piano-and-violin… 1,400 miles of coastline studded with pure-white deserted beaches… prices extravagantly low (136 huge reproductions of masterpieces from the Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg… for one dollar, and a tube of lipstick for ten cents)… ‘The Vietnamese are the last natural people in the world’…”
~ Falling Off the Map (Yesterday Once More: Vietnam, 1991), Pico Iyer