Ch. 194; Vol. 10
So Daisy-Jean hosted Idlewild’s baby shower – boy baby shower – at a tea house, a plate of French toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, and cheesecake – that’s how they roll there. Daisy-Jean knows how to entertain the masses, young and old. Anyway, mixed with homemade caramels in fat gift bags, and anecdotes retold by Daisy-Jean from Anneliese…
“So you know Anneliese and Puck are getting married someday. And she said that Puck still wants them to live in a plane. And I asked her, ‘So do you want to live in a plane someday, Anneliese?’ And she said, ‘No… but I won’t tell him that until later.’”
It wasn’t a typical baby shower. I was grateful.
There were more gifts when I picked up my boys from the Silverspoon’s. From Curly and Lulu when in Florence – leather journals [a mini book for Puck], pen tips, and abacus box: little colored wood beads.
Grandma Snicketts was doing better, a lot better, Dad said. Aunt Corliss and Blessing were in the living room visiting with her when we walked in the door, making plans to tour a five star housing complex nearby the following afternoon.
Joe – happy to have Jaya back that evening, flying from Brussels [he sent flowers] – lifted a small pizza off the pan with one hand and took a large bite. Puck was a little appalled…
“Joe, don’t eat pizza like that! It just gives kids a habit to do the same thing.”
I picked Linnea-Irish up from the volleyball fundraiser carwash in Chesterfield – so many fundraiser car washes everywhere. They made no money that afternoon, and she hadn’t eaten anything all day.
This is the sort of place I mean:
Magnus gets married.
His best man – and brother: a choir mate of The Bear, myself, Kitts, and Carrie-Bri in high school.
The Bear, Joe, and Curly are all groomsmen.
Izzy is the wedding photographer.
Another groomsmen used to chase crawdads and ride hay wagons with my younger siblings at another family’s grandparent’s farm somewhere around fifteen years ago.
Small World doesn’t do justice.
Anyway, ceremony: short and to the point.
Not to mention that Curly and Joe were wearing suits about three shades lighter than the rest of the company, which always makes things more interesting. Grandma’s Cookies. Blue rock candy and lemon drops. Bubble tunnel. Heat. Beach Boys. All that fun stuff. And Rose left on the signature poster…
“Nice suit. – Rose. P. S. Boys are teh best!”
From olden days.
After the Rolls-Royce and bubbles, Theodore and Gloria walked back to their car with us – Dad, Mom, Rose, and myself.
“Oh, San Diego’s nice!” Theodore was telling Rose. “Far away though.”
“Yes, it’s far away,” Dad agreed.
“Oh,” Theodore chastised himself, chuckling. “Shut up, Theodore.”
Yes. It is very far away…
We switched out Dad for Linnea and returned – nine years later – to my own wedding grounds.
At a reception of old books and blue and yellow ceramic dishes, pearls, lace, and handkerchief pieces stacked on tables. A red velvet groom’s cake featuring fondant recreations of Radiohead album, Starbucks sleeve, and Altoids tin on a book [yes, this is Magnus], and a bride’s cake topped with blueberries and lemon…
…I think we already knew the real show was about to begin. Maybe that’s sort of insensitive to the occasion of the day. But slip on a little J.T. or Jay-Z and Magnus was popped into his own world.
Ten minutes in, and my siblings were all recording his moves on the floor.
“Oh no! He’s doing the wiggle dance!” Rose announced.
And it didn’t stop. No, I don’t think it even paused for the next two hours. It was impressive, at the least.
“Now, I’ve heard stories about Magnus’ capabilities,” Mr. Abraham Pi was telling us later in the night. “But it seems to have progressed to a whole… new level.”
Then Rose left to wash three loads of laundry. She would be gone for two weeks to make a big decision.