Keeping Busy
Friday, November 4, 2011
In which the usual escapades of the Snicketts house begin the weekend…
On the way out that morning, Puck was in his own train of thought as usual…
“Mama? Mama, I’m surprised. I haven’t watched Redwall in a long time.”
Subtle as usual…
Back on the ranch…
Baby Hesed had spent the night. ‘An angel’, as Mom described him. Puck got busy demonstrating for him, under supervision, the Marbleworks display. And Hesed had been taught to call Francis, ‘Uncle Fran!’, with a huge grin on his face.
Carrie, who had spent seven hours at the salon the previous afternoon, after having experienced her hair turn powder blue and all the beauticians freaking out, finally came away with reddish hair, trimmed shorter, with heavy ‘Asian bangs’.
Francis was returning from his guys’ breakfast.
Linnea was leaving with Gretyl to play volleyball with the senior citizens at the community center, a gathering that commenced every Friday morning at nine o’clock.
Mom got around to play-dough with Puck and Hesed…
“Pay-dough? Pay-dough?” Hesed inquired.
“Sorry, Baby Hesed,” said Puck importantly. “The play-dough is all gone… I’m afraid.”
In other news… Joe’s 15/20 was no longer in effect. He was now required to obtain eyeglasses.
“You know what I’m going to do?” he said, stirring up his coffee, “I’m gonna go out and buy a whole bunch of bacon today and eat it all myself.”
Meanwhile Carrie prepared her own brunch: an enormous plate of black beans with cheese and a can of cold coconut La Croix.
Francis departed for work.
Into the afternoon…
At lunch, Joe discussed his irritation with wind power while he warmed up a frozen package of Laffy Taffy in his right arm pit, then switched it to the other one.
Linnea was dropped off at a volleyball clinic.
Collette and Carrie-Bri took Joe to check out eyeglasses at the mall before Joe departed to join up with buddies.
Linnea returned with a brief limp and a package of Skittles (her team nickname) from a teammate.
Francis returned from work to light the bonfire, which wasn’t exactly cooperating. Carrie suggested canola oil. He poured it on the smoking fire.
“You have to light it!” Carrie yelled out the back door.
Francis only grinned.
“Francis,” Dad called out to him, “never wear your swim shorts home in my car again. Now my pants are all damp.”
“Where did this bimbo come from?” Carrie asked herself.
At five o’clock, about forty guests shuffled over for a volleyball celebration party and bonfire.
Carrie prepared for Lucia to join her for a business meeting while babysitting Puck.
And OLeif arrived at six o’clock to pick up Collette for the 20th anniversary commemorative dinner for Pastor and Mrs. Marshall at The Columns Banquet Center. As they drove out of the neighborhood, they passed Rose and the little ‘beep beep’ of her car horn. Never had a car more perfectly matched its owner.
Piano, oboe, Republican committee dinner next door… that sounded about right. Carved beef. Chocolate mousse. Album and check presented to Pastor Marshall and some words of wisdom and humorous memories, not to forget Pastor Marshall’s ongoing dislike of the architecture of their present church structure…
“I recall,” said the MC, “he would often wish that a plane arriving at Lambert would happen to drop one of its fuel tanks on the church…”
“He would give my son candles and hope he burned down the place,” joked another member.
It was a weird building.
Back at the house, about fifteen-twenty kids were sitting or standing around the porch listening to some of the girls sing or play guitar.
And Puck was asleep by about ten.