Earnest Antics
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
In which Earnest is up to mischief and another long-time project is completed at last…
Collette woke from dreams of waves crashing over her head at a secluded shore by mountains and pines and afternoon sunlight after a long trek across treacherous countryside in a strange silence… and something about the founding fathers fighting it out, with a man by the name of Jared Hansen, beating them all…
Puck came in at 6:45 to show his daddy the red birthday balloon affixed with a label that read ‘mr balloon’, after Francis had experimented with OLeif’s labeler the previous morning.
Over at the house…
Mom continued to decorate the house for spring with a trio of small pale green glass bottles in a clear glass dish on the dining table filled with Bradford Pear blossoms.
She had also copied an English breakfast tradition: stewed fruit mixed with yogurt.
The television was broadcasting news coverage of the royal wedding. Puck watched for ladies wearing hats.
Carrie talked about the vitamin enriching powers of blackstrap molasses in one’s hair. And other ideas of palm flowers. And musk.
Francis was just taking Linnea up to church for her first day of the SATs.
Collette was trying to keep Francis fixed at the dining room table to finish his oatmeal.
“Plant your bum right there,” Collette told him, pointing to the bench.
“But I can’t,” he protested. “’Cause my bum’s not a seed!”
And Earnest T. was snacking on the cord to the stick vacuum cleaner in Carrie’s room.
Puck was supervising.
Snuggles was also interested.
“Sorry, Snuggles,” Puck told him. “I know you want to eat him. I know. I know.”
And later…
“Sun! Earnest left a bunch of bunny berries all over your room!”
It was not long before Earnest was busy chasing balloons around the room, grasping them with his little teeth and tossing them up in the air.
Later, Carrie demonstrated his obnoxious pink and green bunny harness and leash, which was, in fact, hilarious.
Trader Joe’s called.
No raspberries.
Then another stop for a variety of items, including blue poster board for Linnea’s map of the world. An jicama (pronounced /ˈhɪkəmə/), a fruit from Mexico with the consistency of a water chestnut, as Mom described it.
“I haven’t had one of those since we visited New Mexico,” she said. “They sell those at street-side stands there.”
But once again, there were no fresh raspberries. “Not even for ready money.”
And Carrie taught Puck how to wink.
On the return, Puck saw a sign…
“What does that sign say?”
“Speed Limit 20 When Children are Present,” Carrie replied.
“Well… I get a present,” he said seriously.
Back at the house through those hidden green spring glades in the pre rainfall… like old worlds mixed with new dreams…
Collette prepared another homemade batch of Andes Mints ice cream.
Joe watched Storm Chasers over lunch’s bacon sandwiches while he and Carrie discussed Tornadic activity of the year. Monster storms across the country in progress… Debris balls, wall clouds, hail, etc., etc., and etc.
Panpipes and Native American war dances.
“Check it out on Grooveshark,” said Joe. “My personal favorite is The Crow Hop.”
Joe went into the kitchen for a cup of tea and sneezed all over the clean contents of the dish washer.
Francis and Creole test-ran the Ruckus and continued operations with the go-cart, as usual. Work had been called off last minute due to the chronic rain pattern.
And it was the very last Children’s Wednesday Night Program of the year.
Puck came hurrying through the rain to the church doors, in Mexican poncho, green mohawk hat, and a can of Trader Joe’s split pea soup in each hand for the…
“…babies who have nothin’ to eat.”
In other news…
Grandma Combs, as Easter gifts for Mom and Aunt Petunia, had purchased rose bushes from Monticello.
Elezar Moss, who had emailed Carrie to inquire after the matter of the tornados, was traveling to Pakistan.
And, finally, after fourteen long months, the Hamilton family line had been printed in book-form, 604 pages in length, to be published and sent to Great Uncle Harry in New Mexico. But not before finding an obscure Libyan strand buried deep within the records…
“I like nonsense. It wakes up the brain cells.”
– Dr. Seuss