Clean up the Act

So this time I dreamt up another weirdo concoction in which I – and the Bear – purchased a banana plantation in southeast Africa for $30,000-$40,000 in a country beginning with the letter “H” (as there is no such country, I believe I confused it with “Northern R(H)odesia”, which is now Zambia), where novice plantation workers were paid 363 something-or-other-currency per hour, which I calculated to be around two American dollars per hour, to plant and pick. I spent entirely too much time calculating and examining the situation from a humanitarian/sociological standpoint. Fortunately, the 6:20 alarm broke the intensity of my number crunching and diplomatic interviews conducted with the natives.

When we arrived back on the ranch, Puck joined the typical convention in the backyard of Francis burning things – in the grate this time – while Linnea watched from the picnic tables, strumming her ukulele in the woodsmoke. “Put that out all the way or the fire department will get you in trouble,” Mom called out the back door. Puck opened the gateway to the outdoors for Pumpkin to prance outside. “She’s so fat!” Puck giggled. “No, she’s not,” Linnea protested of her eight year-long pet. “She’s just fluffy and big-boned.”

My shoulders were popping all morning.
Nothing like a crisp crunchy feeling in your joints to get the day rolling. Why not work out the cranky kinks by cleaning things? What I didn’t expect was getting stung for my efforts. Spry 87 year-old Phineas Owen had four desks crowned with enough papers and files to shame Wikipedia. Life adds up like that. And in all the transition following Georgia’s passing, the old condo needed some cleaning. I was assigned to dust the guest bedroom for starters. Just an unsuspecting curtain in an unsuspecting room. Mom handed me the Swiffer duster, and I got busy working the window blinds. Until… that sort of familiar feeling, like you just got cut with a razor. I drew back my left hand quickly – there he was, the stodgy old varmint – a wasp clinging angrily to the curtain. Within minutes, my knuckles were a collective mound of red tissue, swollen, but not much pain. Baking soda, Benadryl, and a later mud-compact from Carrie returned my hand to recognizable shape some time later.
So that was my morning.
But I did find some interesting knickknacks around Phineas’ place. Some home-spun painting/collage from the 1970’s, an ancient brick of a Bible, piece of Roman jug from an Israel excavation (1991), and of course the wooden xylophone, which I remember from grade school days.

Mom was feeling like Chick-fil-A, thankfully for the rest of us. While they picked up the goodness, I joined Puck in the yard. He got busy with mud pies and I pressed down mole tunnels with my moccasin, until the ornery critter started pushing them back up, undoing all my work, like those cartoons where you see the dirt moving across the ground by some devious creature right underneath. I left him to it. Not really worth my time anyway. I also discovered that Puck had been administered cookies in my absence. “Francis gave it to me!” Puck declared, shifting all blame, immediately.
The Olympics were on in my drowsy rookie post-Benadryl phase. There wasn’t anything terribly fascinating flashed on the screen though, because the daytime coverage is almost always women’s water polo. Spain vs USA. Water polo is sort of comedic, I find. I don’t really know why. Maybe it’s the caps that make them look like Dutch dolls – I’m not really sure why that is. Maybe it’s the announcers trying to make it sound as exciting as soccer. I have nothing personally against the most conditioned athletes in the world. It’s just… funny to me.

By the way, Puck is now officially too heavy for me to lift in big squeezy hugs. Yesterday the Bear said, “No more.” I can respect that. 47.5 pounds of Puck is just a little too much for the old mama. Well, it was nice while it lasted…

I’ve been getting a little cold inside, so I had to take some time out in the sun again later in the afternoon. I drowsily half-watched Linnea and Gretyl cut through the back lawn, volleyball totes and clipboards in hand. They have to sell so many unit tons of cookie dough for the team, and to rake in free goodies like team hoodies and stuff. Hopefully another scorcher makes people feel like buying buckets of frozen cookie dough.
Some Chinese-American women’s volleyball… while Carrie iced the slowly fading loveseat with a whipped concoction of soapy foam out of the mixer bowl with a large spatula. “That looks pretty exciting,” Puck grinned, giving a hand. “I would love to do that job.” Carrie got a free Tom-Sawyer-volunteer armed with scrubby brush.
Francis came tearing up the sidewalk sometime in between me trying to stay awake and more rowing “on the tele”. Francis has a certain kind of run I’ve never seen anyone else naturally imitate. Arms thrown straight back; motionless head and torso… This time accented by a neon blue belt and camo pants. “Forgot my permission slip for paintball,” he explained from behind the Oakleys.
Meanwhile, Linnea had nearly passed out – almost – in her endeavors to rake in cookie dough sales, which had been entirely unsuccessful. Gretyl had left her behind near Dairy Queen, where Linnea sought sustenance in the form of ice water. “Everything was blacking out around me,” she explained later, surviving the walk home alone.

Carrie was mixing up a fancy cream-based soup involving the cumbersome vegetables of broccoli and carrots, which I even ate. “Anyone see my mandolin?” she called – a recent cooking gift from Grandma Combs. “I think Linnea was playing it up on the roof,” Mom replied. Irish soda bread. All from scratch, of course. A side of salad. And peanut butter blossom cookies for dessert. Dad lasted long enough over the feast to get an update on the Olympics before his own run, and not long enough to hear out a discussion about the cousins’ tattoos.
When the Bear arrived, he had one more topping to add to the sundae – a bag stuffed with Jelly Bellies. How to keep a five year-old unspoilt in such situations… But he earned his keep watering all the plants with Carrie after dinner.