Here it Comes
Plunk.
Right back in the desk chair.
I wanted to believe they had immediate plans to hire a new secretary, but sometimes I just got that feeling… At least there was heat, a water cooler, and the internets.
Everything catches up with me this year, I confess. Here comes another Hallowe’en chasing me down like the Headless Horseman of the Apocalypse, and I’ve hardly gotten over the fact that I’m another year older… from last year. I’ve actually forgotten my own age at least… three times this year.
Three times.
Linnea had two new holes in her ears, the repercussion of turning fifteen with bubble teas and old-time friend, Eleda English. An object of curiosity sat on the counter – a wine glass filled with overripe banana covered in hole-punched saran wrap.
“That’s my fruit fly trap,” Carrie explained.
“Collette! Can’t you make me something?”
“Francis. Get a can of chicken noodle from the pantry.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
“Francis, you don’t even have to use the can opener. It’s a pop-top. Dump it in the pot and cook it.”
“But it tastes so much better when you make it…”
Of course it took me a few minutes more to remember that Francis doesn’t realize that soup shouldn’t be scalded.
“Mom! Come outside with me!”
It was cold. Puck skirted the driveway and shouted to his Uncle Joe…
“Joe! Did you know you ate an eyebrow in your cereal?” He grinned, almost gleefully, turning back to me. “First one there’s a rotten egg!”
Off he rocketed down the street under the spindle brush of late October and the surprising flutter of still-pink roses. I couldn’t stay out long, not even in my electric lime ski coat.
While Francis decided he had to go to Six Flags Fright Fest tonight – which always sounds like a terrible idea – Carrie, who wasn’t feeling so well, cooked up pumpkin ravioli and the two bags of collard greens, or “that green boiled stuff” as Dad tantalizing described it.
“How about we do El Maguey, Adel…” Dad suggested warily.
“No, Dad!” Carrie declared. She had been up late into the early hours of the morning with ER-worthy heartburn, and wasn’t in the mood. “You are going to eat the collard greens. No dining out!”
Rose, who had skipped out on a Hallowe’en party, walked through the door half an hour later with her work backpack and lifted the lid on the peppery mix.
“This one room got locked at work today and no one had a key,” she said, ignoring the cooked leaves. “So I crawled through the ceiling.”
The professional life.
So it was a pajama party “spooky” movie night. When Mom and Dad got back from grocery shopping for Grandma Snicketts, a full line of fruit fly wine glasses marched across the counter, wreaking the air of apple cider vinegar and wasting fruit.
“I think they all escaped,” Carrie eyeballed one suspiciously.
“The Ghost and Mr. Chicken” was on the roster. So was Deter’s frozen custard. Although all it took was one comment from Joe to spark a mildly heated NLCS/World Series argument which somehow led to purple baby hedgehogs and Joe clipping bobby pins on the rhododendron leaves.
“Joe! Stop that!” Mom scolded him.
“Oh, but it’s so shabby chic, Mom.”