Happy Rose!

Sunday, June 26, 2011
In which Rose transcends adulthood with a simple introduction to that strange, strange world…

Rose was the big 2-1.

There were storms in the early morning. Giant crashes of thunder.

“Sorry for getting up late, Mama.”
The milk went down to the floor at breakfast. The whole glass.
“I’m sorry, Daddy!” Puck yelled, running into the bedroom. “I wasted all of your money!”
On the way back to the kitchen…
Clatter.
“Dropped my fork!”
Clatter.
“Dropped my fork again!”
Sitting down…
“We can make some more milk, Mama.”
“I’m afraid only cows make that kind…”
“No. We can make it too.”
“How?”
“By getting some special stuff.”
“What kind of special stuff?”
“Like some boxes.”

Following Sunday School that morning, Collette entered to find Puck and his little inseparable buddy tossing piles of blue and yellow crepe paper into the air, and giggling. Puck had also somehow managed to give himself a green ‘Hitler mustache’, via good old magic marker. He also brought back his project of the morning, a pink foam fish cut out with random snips, with a giant googly eye.

By the time they had arrived at the house, the usual forum was gathering in the living room, where further evidence of Earnest-damage was currently being presented, including one of Dad’s books and Carrie’s Japanese-esque clear bubble umbrella.
There were some discussions on the night’s previous storm…
“Our electricity went out,” said Carrie.
“Ours did too,” Collette replied.
“Yeah. Rose was saying, ‘I’ll bet Joe’s getting scared downstairs. And sure enough, he comes up…”
“Yeah,” said Francis, “with his canteen flashlight and starts shining it in everyone’s eyes, telling them the electricity’s out.”
“Yeah, so?” said Joe.
“I was already asleep. I didn’t need anyone to tell me the electricity was out,” Francis laughed.
“Yeah, but the fun of the electricity going out is sharing that moment together,” Joe retorted.
“Francis, what are you eating” Carrie asked. “Is that ice cream mixed with milk?”
“Yup.”
“Francis likes to find new and inventive ways to waste milk.”
“Yeah,” said Joe. “’Let’s put milk in a firework and shoot it off!’”
Then Carrie and Rose talked about the Viking-beard-worthy Doctor Who gentlemen at church, with whom they talked for an hour during the Saturday evening picnic, who were going to attend a ‘warrior choir’ camp that summer.
“I’m pretty sure all their shirts come from Woot,” Carrie teased.
But apparently their ‘sacred harp’ choir groups were capable of being heard a half mile away, such was the incredible projection of their ‘shape notes’.

Dinner was prepared by Carrie: a special chicken parmesan, mashed potatoes, croissants, and spiced brandy caramel cake iced in a professional looking manner.
And of course, also with Mandarin as Linnea’s spent-the-night guest of the morning, the usual sorts of conversation commenced…
“Rose was born in room 13…” Mom was reminiscing.
“Unlucky,” Carrie teased.
“You mean room 666, right, Mom?” Joe prodded.
“No,” Carrie said in mischief. “That was my room.”
“So, presents?” Rose asked, with her usual mischievous grin.
“No. Cake first,” said Dad.
“Where is that music coming from?” Carried asked.
“I put on John Williams,” said Mom.
“What is that, the March of 1912?”
“1912? What happened in 1912?”
“What’d’ya get me?” Rose asked.
“We bought you a soccer team to hang out with,” Joe replied.
“Cake now?” Dad prodded.
“So… what about those presents?” Rose prodded.
Eventually… Rose was given her gifts.
Firstly, in abstract form, a promise of Lasik.
Secondly, as she tore into the box from the U.S. Postal Service…
“My Dalek pitcher!”
It was, in fact, a Mid-Century Mexican water pitcher crafted of blue glass, with a bubble exterior, and plated in some bronze-appearing metal. It had been a long hoped-for present.
Then Carrie lit the cake with the Roman numerals. Singing. Rose managed them all in one breath.
“Good thing,” said Carrie. “That would have been more chances to have those 21 kids…”
“Here, Rose, you want to cut the cake?” Mom asked, handing her the slicing utensil.
“Aw, Mom!” Carrie exclaimed. “With a cheese slicer? Really?”
While the slices were being dished out, the kids tried to convince Francis, who had been tucking his slacks into his black church socks to make them look like early 20th century knickers, that capris were called ‘thongs’. No good.
“It’s more humid than Africa out there,” Joe announced, opening the patio door.

Back in the living room…
“We finally convinced Dad about the Lasik,” said Carrie. “Then I added the final kicker. I just told him that ‘guys don’t make passes with girls in glasses’.”
“Wait, so he’s going to have to end up paying for a wedding now, too?” OLeif asked.
They then began to discuss random events of the weekend, including Magnus nearly passing out from astonishment that the same knife had been used for the chicken salad and the cheese Danish at Rose’s birthday picnic… Of Joe and Mom having a contest the other evening of who could toss rubber cockroaches up onto the fan blades and have them stick… And of the time Carrie spent the night at the Lemp Mansion…
“Yeah, we decided to scare some people and put topiaries outside their bedroom doors. They were so scared. There was just this bush sitting outside their doors. People were freaking out…”
Linnea walked through in knee-high Converse, cut-off yellow shorts, Art Deco glass necklace, The Bravery t-shirt, and white lace headband over side-braid, snacking on Easter Island Head ice cubes.
And they tried to get Rose to decide on what to do for the afternoon…
“We could visit that school built during the time of the Spanish,” said Mom. “They taught Native American children there.”
“What?”
“Hermann?”
“Too far.”
“Coldwater Cemetery?”
“Seriously?”
“The River Road?”
“Nothing in Illinois.”
“Let’s go smell perfume!”
“Naw…”
“You want to see where some gangsters used to live?”
“Mom. Really?”

They finally settled on a winner for everybody.
Before departure, however, Puck had speeches to make. He brought out his small rose-encrusted lectern from the hall bath and began. The result was not-so-hidden smiles.
“Stop laughing! It’s going to be a really really long sermon!” he proclaimed.

So out to Kirkwood. That part of the original West County in which Dad had spent three years of his life. He drove them by his old home and the, rather surprisingly long, trek he walked to school and back while in Kindergarten, and past the little fuel station where he would sometimes buy candy. And his Methodist church with a skylight down the full rib of the roof.
“I used to watch that skylight throughout the whole sermon,” Dad said.

The green slug slid in, and without hardly any notice by West County passerby, to Down-by-the-Station Ice Cream, which had morphed into Kirkwood Custard, or something like that.
“You know why I got chocolate, Daddy?” Puck asked. “To be twins with Linnea.”
Cones and bowls were taken down on the little patch of green by the tracks, as they watched a freight train and an Amtrak come through. Puck also found himself a small tree grove which was adopted as his ‘New house! Come see, Mama, come see!’

Back to the house…
Francis and Linnea were leaving for youth group, which apparently entailed swimsuits, pizzas, and clips from Toy Story I.
Carrie had a date with a box of henna.
And Rose had possible plans to attend her usual Sunday gathering in the city.

A treat on the way home. Boxed supper and a jug of Vitamin D milk.
“Red milk?!” Puck asked. “You got me red milk, Daddy!”

Back home, Puck opened the basement door.
“Cold air, you can come up now. It’s almost sweaty up here.”
And before he was put down for the night, he had one last statement…
“Daddy, I have to show you a question. We won’t pray in Heaven, right?”

And another Tornado Watch.

Collette was thinking that OLeif was looking like an Amish gorilla that evening as the thunder grumbled in.
“Someone called me a rabbi today at church,” was his answer.