Can't Call Your Bluff

Thursday, March 15, 2012

So much for that rain…

OLeif departed looking very much like a UPS man in cowboy boots.
Puck spent most of his morning in a box.
Collette spent hers in a daily walk.
An email popped up from Carrie near the lunch hour, entitled – “Dad’s Latest”.

Pumpkin: waddle waddle waddle
Dad: “Everyday, that cat appears to me more and more like a cannon ball.”
Pumpkin: waddle waddle waddle

So it was the return of Luke and Leia in the 82 degree afternoon with a contribution of clementines and balloons. They had been under battle axe the past week. Flu for everyone but Luke, strep throat for Luke, ruptured ear drum for Leia… everyone at least was now recovered.
They adjourned into the back yard and the playhouse. Collette shared a patch of rabbits ear with curious hands and swept the yard for bits of trash blown in by the wild winds of the past week.
And before the afternoon had concluded, Leia fell asleep on the couch and Luke stated, with great certainty, his future profession…
“I want to be a black belt scientist.”

And as Luke and Leia departed, the skies were finally filling with that southwest gray. Collette and Puck took his bouncing ball outside under a developing field of mammatus and played catch for awhile. Lightening cracked in the south. Thunder rumbled.
“Does it mean God is showing His best strength He can?” Puck asked.
Another crash in the distance.
“Do you hear that lightening?” he asked, gleefully.
Suddenly a cold wind blasted in, bringing the rain.
Back inside, a large crash of thunder.
“Mama, I’m hungry,” Puck stated.
“We’ll eat dinner soon.”
“Yes. But rain makes me hungry. I’m really hungry.”
Pink quartz sparkled above the trees.
As the Cards beat the Red Sox, 9-6, Collette distracted Puck with readings and then served dinner over catechism…
“Where is God?” came the question.
“Um…” Puck speculated with a wrinkled nose. “In the 1840’s?… Or is He in Heaven.”

After dinner, Puck wrote another dandy of a note for his dad, which he left on his pillow for when he returned later that night. It read as follows –

Envelope:
For Daddy
Puck wrote it.
Puck loves you.

Note Card:
I love you so much, Daddy.
I am about to explode with love.
You have good underwear and
good couches and good beds.
They are very very soft.
That’s why I love you so much.
You have lots and lots of pianos.
And that’s why I love you too.
And you have very good pillows.
And you are a very good daddy.
That’s what I mean.
And you have good tables and
clocks.
And lamps.
And horses.
You have good houses.

I love you, Daddy.
Love, Puck

Lightening continued to split into the night.
Collette’s evening consisted of Dr. Robert Raymond lecture series from a fuzzy 1976. A little NLDS against the Phillies – electric crab Molina, Harryhausen Cyclops Howard saluting his primeval club against the onslaught, Jay brandishing his bat as if he were gently mixing a cake, and Craig, who might have been Violet Gentle’s half-Italian first cousin…
Jut before ten, pelting rain, and a surge of hail.