Ch. 156; Vol. 10
Last evening while Puck attempted to join the neighborhood posse across the street, casually, by mild consideration. Well. Puck-casually. All I saw was my son flying down the street, legs hanging out in the air off his Strider bike yelling back to the kids…
“I DON’T REMEMBERRRRRRRR!”
Later I found out what they had asked him…
“What grade are you in?”
Classic home school.
This would not affiliate him well into the mix of neighborhood young folk. But what are you going to do? I guess reminding him that he just finished Kindergarten would be a start.
So this morning, Puck was singing loudly to himself, over and over and over again…
“McDonalds! McDonalds! McDonalds, Donalds, Donalds!”
We really never eat there. I guess he had that happy meal on the way to Curly’s and Lulu’s wedding last month. But some things stick.
Crackers was hungry, too…
“Why is she whining?” The Bear asked Puck. “Is she hungry?”
“I don’t know, Dad. I fed her. And she was frantically eating her food.”
It was almost six o’clock.
In the evening.
Costco had been the first hit earlier in the day after Mom dropped off two packages at the post office. And then bought a two-dollar pair of yellow rose earrings at Plato’s Closet that she’d had her eye on. Then Costco.
Carrie stormed through, bags of spring lettuce, frozen corn, and pomegranates under her arm. A gift for Dad…
“Ooh. This is so squishy.”
We all took turns pressing fingers into the squishiest memory foam pillow we had ever felt with rubbery cooling top. Like pizza dough or something. We decided to get one for Dad. Pepperoni and cheese stuffed bosco sticks for the boys. Silver plastic flatware for Annamaria’s bridal brunch. And a few cases of Izze sparkling juice in grapefruit, clementine, and blackberry that Francis and Linnea pounced on when we got back…
“Ooh. Who got the Izze?” they both asked.
Linnea was inspired enough to film a row of the pink, orange, and purple drinks which she sent to Cherry to make her jealous.
And Francis, who had still practically been asleep when we left…
“Jack In The Box, Francis? Really?”
He just grinned.
So then Ivy and I spent four hours at Chipotle trying to consolidate the last two years into one conversation. And a bowl of cilantro-lime rice, black beans, cheese, adobo-marinated chicken, and some pretty good guacamole. Now, I’m no talker, by any reasonable stretch of the imagination, but life conversations have this way of reminding you that more happened in two years than you realized. We also decided that Ivy resembled much less a “Grandma” and far more a “Mimi”. In preparation for September. World problems, solved.
It began to rain as I left, closer to five than four-thirty.
Puck was waiting for me on the couch watching Babar. He had helped Mom rearrange the corner china cabinet while I was away. He had also earned his stripes in my absence. Puck had officially encountered his first bike crash.
“Didn’t cry a tear,” Mom said proudly.
Dad looked skeptically at dinner. Roasted cauliflower with whipped goat cheese, quinoa muffins, salad and homemade dressing. Francis wasn’t there to complain either. But Dad ate anyway and was rewarded with an early anniversary present from Mom – the memory foam pillow.
Linnea was gone for volleyball, Francis still at class, and Joe at work before picking up Jaya, Mom was leaving for yoga before packing for Branson. She and Dad had three days to celebrate their Friday anniversary. And Carrie made my nails all sparkly before The Bear got back to pick us up. He enjoyed a quinoa muffin while Carrie and I finished up in the kitchen, discussing all things that needed to be discussed.
It was still raining when we left. Just light, tapping the roses.
Happy Hollisters. A fattening cat.
A blue-green evening out in the world.