It Takes all Kinds
Grandma Combs handed me a box of unconventionally-colored gummy bears [including pink lemonade] at church for Puck. Mr. Puck, sporting a new blue collared shirt, clip-on tie, dark jeans, and very faded-stained superheros chucks, waved back to Anneliese from the balcony. All of his Sunday School friends willingly participated in the box of gummy goodies 90 minutes later. Give or take.
We had another one of those ribbed gray skies over the church today. Kind of quiet. Puck handed Anneliese one of his dozen mini books, which she carried with her to Sunday School. A little I Peter in one of the classrooms.
Quiet… weird feeling.
And because I love parties so much – I joined Mom, Carrie-Bri [just returning from the Sunday version of bunny adoption in Fenton], and Rose in a stuffed car to the baby shower of Eve English Avonlea, who expects her first boy, and child, in the fall. Fortunately for those of us in this world who do not… eagerly… adhere to the idea of wrapped bottles, booties, and burper… things, and “guess the number of pastel M&M’s in the mason jar”… there are an equal number of ladies – if not many more – who will avidly compensate for our lack of enthusiasm.
Namely – Mom.
We were out at one of those large country homes backed up to woods. Homemade cake pops and sausage rolls started things off, and blue punch coupled with striped straws in mason jars. Diana had come in from D.C. to host the fun, mentioning recent to near-recent excursions to India, Berlin, and Turkey, between herself and her husband, all around reporting for the Washington Times. Even my second violin teacher from fifteen or more years ago made an appearance as Eve uncloaked her gifts.
It’s always a little unusual seeing people from the old days, the first days. Everyone’s always a little older, a little wiser, a little more used to life.
Thought of the Day
Sometimes I think there’s this cock-eyed off-to-the-side part of me that allows the unfolding disaster of a particular minor situation to get… just a little bit more worse, on purpose, before I fix it.
I’m not really sure why.
Allowing the glass to spill all the way off the table.
Dropping the whole stack of books once the first one starts to go.
Not letting go of the hot pan until there’s an un-meltable surface to set it…
Let me too boldly clarify – I have been told on more than one occasion that I have the “reflexes of a cat”. What kind of cat, I’m not certain. I like to think maybe a panther. So it’s not that I don’t recognize what’s happening. It’s just sort of a… let’s see how bad this thing gets before I have to do something about it.