Fry Me an Inferno
Thursday, June 28, 2012
“Maybe we’ll catch up with each other sometime,” Collette teased OLeif as he backed down the driveway.
Life was constant catch-up.
Relationships.
Chores.
Projects.
Repairs.
Activities.
Obligations.
Studies.
Papers…
Everything.
But it sort of made every day feel like one more accomplishment to add to the growing shrine and/or artistic masterpiece of life. A little bit of paint here, a little bit of junk there. Hopefully more a fragrant aroma and less a blemished offering. But no time for incorrect theological analogies…
Collette looked up from a few minutes of distracted dish-washing to see Puck liberally lathering the outside panel of the glass patio door with green chalk paint and charcoal. She had sent him out to enjoy the backyard before the yawning mouth of hell groaned over the baking city, which, by the way, the all-masterful Oracle had now prophesied to be 108 F.
Ham in crockpot.
One-room school couch.
Collette was considering high bane…
“Puck? Do you want your very own kitten?”
“Yes, Mama! Would it be a kitten that’s alive?”
What?
It was time for an old school “Wishbone” marathon.
Something to beat the heat.
Egg-bologna cups graced supper’s table. A little milk and paprika, salt mixed in. Old days…
Meanwhile, the scrub of Puck’s blonde top stuck up like a soft spindle forest, some undersea coral landscape.
“What’s with this fuzz?” Judah had asked at the DMV, ruffling Puck’s head.
“I know. I can’t do anything about it,” Collette replied. “Sea urchin.”
Cooked.
The air didn’t even look real.
Although it didn’t feel as scalding as anticipated – almost a little disappointing after all that hype…
“Puck, come here. I want you to walk outside. This may be the hottest day you’ll see in your life.”
[Probably not.]
“Should I run across the street in my bare feet, Mama?”
“Sure.”
So that’s what 109.6 degrees felt like…
They tried the street-fried egg once more. Amazingly, it still didn’t work…
In another part of the world, apparently Joe had caught himself in a sandstorm with German and two other buddies, rocking the dunes.
Puck, meanwhile, was shooting himself through the air – super hero blanket-cape attached beneath chubby ring-pop blue-tooth grinning chin – landing on random pieces of furniture.
Dinner brought a surprising 5 and 3/4-inch baby carrot in the bag.
And Friday was expected to be 108 once more.. No relief expected below 100 for the next week.