Lazy Days of Summer
It was another unnatural July morning in the 60’s when Puck’s – potential – future school phoned me about arranging interviews/evaluations for Thursday afternoon. Sometimes life feels like one big evaluation, frankly, so a couple more of those wouldn’t kill anything. I wrapped up the brief conversation with the secretary – whose son happened to once ruthlessly tease Carrie-Bri for wearing a Mz. Frizzle-worthy neon dinosaur dress in the 90’s – and returned before Puck got into the raspberry-and-vanilla Lancashire creams. Nasty little things; too closely related to taffy.
Anyway, friends were limited that afternoon for Puck. The sisters down the street were in New York, apparently, the boy across the street had broken his arm, and the brother and sister around the corner were MIA. So Puck biked up and down the street in fast ovals until Anna and Eddie returned from shopping. The always-reliables.
Finally trimmed up Puck’s spontaneous shear job following dinner, after he packed in the lasagna and blueberries. (No complaints about the lasagna this time; he’s growing up, I guess.) He ran off to check out his new look in the mirror. I think he was a little disappointed that I hadn’t made him completely bald.
El Oso rolled up the driveway just after 7:30. Another long and tired day at work. The life of a Manager. He crawled into the bottom bunk next to Puck to watch a nightly Wimp video clip, something about a cotton candy artist.
These darned West Coast games keep me up late during the summer. Called for a little ice cream maybe. Right before El Oso walked back out the door for, what my folks always called/call a “run for the border,” he turned back with a sudden inspiration.
“You look like a blonde … Korean … from … Europe.”
Chalk that up to my hair in a knot on the top of my head. I guess. He takes a glance at my Korean television shows from time to time.
Anyway, when the game – and about a dozen Carlos Beltran 5-Hour Energy ads (Yankees jerseys make him look pasty) – finally ended about 12:30 CST, I decided it was probably a mistake, given the six hours’ sleep I was going to collect after a close loss in San Diego. But I’m still young; I can handle it.