Grumpiness

Sunday, June 5, 2011
In which the usual Sunday activity transpires as Collette grumpily prepares herself to leave town…

Not the most successful of transitions in promotion Sunday for Puck. Things started off well enough, but… well, that was life.

Onto the rest of the day…
Lunch. Carrie’s chicken salad. Great food as always.
Rose crashed through the front door from church looking charmingly mod-1800’s or… something like that…
And little cheesecakes.
Catch-up on Linnea’s experience babysitting Baby Hesed.
“I have to admit, he’s a really cute kid,” said Carrie. “He stole some of my pizza. He would just come over to me with his big smile and so I gave him little pieces.”
“What if he was allergic to pizza?” Francis asked with a grin.
“Well, it’s his own fault for being so cute,” Carrie replied. “And then he would come over and sit in my lap.”
“We were trying to keep things quiet,” Mom was saying, “because Hesed was sleeping back in our room, but then Wally came over…”
“Yeah, Rose had a finger in her ear for half the time because he was talking so loud,” said Carrie. “And then Bing came. And they both stayed till midnight.”
They talked about Bing’s experience at Kirk and playing the cello there during services, etc.
Puck found a ripe peach on the fruit bowl and asked Carrie to cut it open for him.
“Look at that, Uncle Joe!” he exclaimed excitedly. “See how big that seed is? Isn’t that crazy.”
“If you swallow that, you could have a peach tree grow inside you,” Joe said. “It happened to me.”
“You’re just kidding,” Puck giggled.
Then Rose talked about the triple chocolate chip cake she had brought to church for a family who was in need of some meals.
“It looked like a cow pie,” she stated.
Then Carrie told them how some people in third world countries ate boiled dirt to ward off parasites, or something like that.
And Calvinism.

Discussion transitioned to the living room where Magnus’ sketches were perused.
Pumpkin ran around like a fat mouse, because the girls had shaved her.
And the white board read:

nutmeg
cat brush
Italian seasoning

Around two o’clock, activity…
OLeif and Joe left to meet Theodore to hunt up a two hundred dollar life-saving summer mesh-based motorcycle jacket for the upcoming intense heat.
All the girls left to whirlwind shop, the only best way to do it, Carrie in her purple TOKI DOKI t-shirt.
As they piled in Dad’s car, Rose commented on the condition of her own car.
“Cicada spit all over it,” she said.
Cicadas. Standing underneath their favorite tree, it was like listening to some strange Star Wars sound torture.
Old Navy.
Flip-flops in sparkly gold for Carrie, sparkly silver for Rose, and black and white for Linnea. Black for Puck, as he had clearly outgrown his pair from the previous summer. Flip-flops on guys were decently acceptable under the age of… seven? Collette had not officially decided yet.
Penny’s. Rose found a sort of plaid-ish, rose-ish, blue-ish, pocketed, criss-cross backed dress, that looked very nice on her.
Target. Milk. Skinny belt for Rose. A smell of citrus peel/honeysuckle body wash….

Back to the house, goodbyes to the Puckling, who would have plenty of entertainment in the coming three days.
Joe was off on the Ruckus to meet with Wally about their three-day Katy Trail bike ride on Monday.
And Linnea was considering attending the Hungary Fundraiser Swing Dance at the Lutheran church.

Home.
Burgers, sans bun, cheese, mayo, and anything else interesting.
Scrubs.
Down to sleep early to prepare for an early morning drive to Springfield.

Doomsday.

“Whenever the devil harasses you, seek the company of men or drink more, or joke and talk nonsense, or do some other merry thing. Sometimes we must drink more, sport, recreate ourselves, and even sin a little to spite the devil, so that we leave him no place for troubling our consciences with trifles. We are conquered if we try too conscientiously not to sin at all. So when the devil says to you: do not drink, answer him: I will drink, and right freely, just because you tell me not to.”

— Martin Luther