May 22nd

Lately, Puck had been thinking that individually wrapped granola bars were “presents”.
“Happy birfday!” he cried happily whenever he saw one.
Carrie was telling Collette about how Linnea had a new molar come in. And she thought she had a cavity in it.
“Great!” she said, “I just got this one and there’s already a hole in it.”
Francis woke up at about 10:30, glugging up the stairs sleepily, and sat down to put on his shoes.
“Gotta go mow the lawn,” he yawned.
Puck hurried over to him and pulled him to the window to show him their neighbor from across the street riding down the road in his tractor lawn mower.
“How come he mows all the other neighbors’ lawns,” said Francis, “But when it comes to ours, he just waves at me and passes by?”
Puck didn’t know why, but he did have some more things to say to Francis.
“I like your shirt!” he said happily, pulling on his own shirt. “I like your shoes!”
He had quickly become accustomed to his new pair of blue Target shoes, and seemed to equally like his Oscar the Grouch t-shirt, which he showed to everyone.
Meanwhile, Carrie was hitting endless roadblocks. She wasn’t old enough for the FBI (where one had to be 23 to apply), she couldn’t get a job in Australia or South Africa because she had to have a job in the U.S. first, the head of the St. Louis Astronomical Society didn’t even seem to know what space weather was, Wash-U did not permit potential PhD candidate walk-throughs, being an officer in the Air Force she couldn’t have any input in where she would be stationed (which could be anywhere in the world)… All the other space weather, national weather, space-based companies channeled her through endless phone lines resulting in the news that they would still only accept online applications, nothing in person… Carrie had, unfortunately, completed school at one of the worst times to find a job, and had chosen one of the most specific, now limited fields, in existence. And no one had the money to pay her for her skills. So she continued the hunt.
In more welcome news, Dad had ordered his airplane, and had, of course, commissioned Holly, Andy, and Daniel to help build it.
Meanwhile, Francis was irritated with brackets fixed to his teeth that were invading his lip space after having visited the orthodontist.
“It’s so annoying,” he said. “I think I’m just going to send them a note, regretting that I died in a car crash, and then they’ll be like, ‘Ok,’ and I won’t have to get anything else done to my teeth.”
And Puck spent most of his morning hiccoughing.
For lunch, Francis loaded up his plate with four corn dogs.
“Francis!”
“I’m hungry.”
That boy never stopped eating. No wonder he was inching toward that six-foot mark. Collette wouldn’t be surprised if he hit it, or surpassed it. He was like a walking garbage disposal. And/or walking refrigerator.
The mail brought a gift for Carrie from Mom: “fluffies”, direct from Australia, essentially flip-flops with soft fuzzy lining. Carrie was in love.
That afternoon, Puck returned from the wild outdoors when the mosquitos began biting too heavily and helped his ‘Sun’ make chocolate pudding cupcakes.
Then Puck amused himself pouring out Joe’s thermos of coffee on the dining room floor and raiding Carrie’s closet of shoes. He came stomping out in her metallic gold astronaut shoes.
And everyone was busy for the night. Dad was out to the Katy Trail. Carrie was having dinner with Lucia and Malaya at a cafe downtown. Joe was still at work. Rose was attending a new members class at church. And Linnea was next door playing with the three little neighbor girls.