Back Again
Monday, August 8, 2011
In which another, presumably and hopefully, less up-shaking week begins under a normal set of circumstances…
Puck woke that morning to join them and get…
“…all snuggling warm.”
He went on to discuss his one-sided conversation with Anneliese (who was very shy with him lately) at Sunday School, and how he had told her that he would buy her a pair of new sparkling sunglasses.
Shortly later, OLeif was off to work in his new hand-me-down cowboy boots from Theodore.
With August already in full swing, it was time to ‘more officially’ teach Puck how to read. Her best first stab-in-the-dark approach was to treat the endeavor the same as if she were about to take him to the carousel. Not thrilled to be actually doing it, but presenting it as a fun event and knowing that the results would be enjoyable for the tike, even if the flashing lights, clownish music, and garishly painted circus animals might be initially mildly terrifying.
As it turned out, the first lesson was painless. Puck remembered the sounds, and even held the pencil correctly, albeit sketching an ‘S’ that looked more like a scribble the size of Africa.
Meanwhile…
Two tossed sweet potatoes that morning. Mold. Rare to toss food stuffs. No fries in butter and cinnamon for Monday at least.
Hand-mop the kitchen with bleach.
Upon finding that Dad was also related to Charlemagne… Collette was just beginning to get almost a little annoyed…
And the storms were collecting, though not doing much of any good, really.
In other notes…
Further calls from Great Uncle Harry on Sunday afternoon prompted investigations to the larger cemeteries in St. Louis, one of which housed the grave of William Tecumseh Sherman. No luck. Collette was beginning to wonder if Louis F. Hamilton had simply disappeared off the map.
Into the later part of the morning, Puck emerged from the bath, hands behind his back. He knew very well that Collette would smell them to make sure he had used soap.
“I don’t want you to smell my hands, Mama.”
“Mm-mm-mm. All those germs wiggling around on your fingers waiting to dance into your mouth at lunch. You send them a slap with that soap and send them down the sink.”
She realized that she sounded a little bit like Rose…
The rain never quite arrived.
Pale violet afternoon skies.
A dip in the heat.
Wednesday was to even be a merciful 81 for a high.
As Puck waited for his dinner, Puck spun around in circles in the kitchen to ‘get his exercise’.
“I’ll be here all night,” he said, becoming more and more dizzy.
Rose called in the early evening with news about her car. A match was possibly found in Nashville and might even be shipped up, no cost, by the end of the week in lieu of the typical eight-week ship wait. And, much to the additional enthusiasm of Joe and Carrie-Bri, she had chosen a manual.
There was also conversation about houses for sale in The Hill and of Rose’s upcoming review the following morning.
OLeif returned from groceries with: blue berry bubble bath, a mango, and creme-filled Keebler sandwich cookies.