Mayhem and Shirley Temple
Tuesday, January 25, 2005 (full moon)
Monday had been slightly eventful – nothing big, mind you, but enough to make things interesting. The usual mischief had occurred. While Collette was waiting to tutor math, reading about how Shirley Temple was denied French-fried potatoes and ice cream at the café at the studio in order not to spoil her… other things were afoot.
Carrie-Bri was busy painting black clown eyebrows on the dog with a permanent marker.
Linnea was walking across the ice of a neighbor’s swimming pool and was in serious trouble when Carrie later spotted her from the hammock where she was curled up in her scrubs, a blanket, and Pumpkin, who was quite fearful of the outdoors.
Francis ran around the yard decked out in full camo, surveying the neighborhood for trouble.
There was “House on Haunted Hill” to be watched while the laundry was going. And the windows were cracked open in the dining room and laundry as the cool air of January resembled more of an early spring zephyr than usual old man winter.
Carrie then made chocolate chip cookies with finely ground oatmeal from a recipe obtained from one of the chefs at Neiman Marcus
OLeif later returned with a ticket stub from the Presidential Inaugural Ball which he had found in a tux pocket. Collette was quite happy to see this.
And “Phantom of the Opera” pounded from the kitchen, as though the chandelier had risen from the grave.
Meanwhile at dinner they had discussed a letter received from their old friends and neighbors, the Pearls, who now lived in Spokane, Washington. It told of how Mr. Pearl worked three days in Seattle and two days at home every week.
“I’d sure like to work from home again,” Dad said, thinking about the good old days. “But I’d have to cart you all off to California and I know you wouldn’t want to do that.”
“No,” Carrie-Bri suddenly threw on sarcasm, “I’d just have to spend all my weekends at the beach. I, I, I think I’d just have to kill myself.” She finished with a flourish of her hand.
Joe put on the lampshade next and with his best beach boy surfer dude drone, took up next with:
“Yeah… I’d have all my, like, chicks and bikes, and be like, surfin’ the waves, man, and… dude!”
Carrie hopped in again, “We could strap Rose to a giant sea turtle… No one would ever know… She’d still be talking as she floated away.”
Rose erupted with laughter until her face turned red. Meanwhile, the whole table was in an uproar, talking and laughing, and performing interpretive dance when necessary.
“This place is a zoo,” Dad had his smile lines as he got up from the table.
“Wait up, Dad,” Joe jumped from his seat to follow him.
He had stuck two baby carrots up his nose in imitation of a walrus.
“I’m coming too. Ah.. ah.. ah.. achooooooooo!”
And out they came.
“Yeah!” he exclaimed, raising both arms in the air for victory.
He picked them up from the bench at the table.
“Eat ’em, eat ’em, eat ’em, eat ’em!” The chorus at the table chanted loudly, banging their fists on the table.
Finally, Carrie noticed the obnoxious sound they were producing, and said:
“Joe, you’re never gonna get a girlfriend.” And then, “It’s too loud in here; I think we need tapestries.”
And thus the day had gone, the sparkling gold pinnacle being that OLeif had found a new job as a tech guy, or a nerd, as Carrie believed, setting up networks. And so… Monday, January 24th, did not make out to be quite as bad as it was predicted.
The day had been semi-relaxing. Upon arriving back at home from work, Collette had seen Carrie-Bri up in the old tree, spying, waiting for Hansel and Gretyl Plum to come home.
This brother and sister, seven and five years old, respectively, were two comedians and the laughing stock of the church. They were entirely hilarious, and on some warmer afternoons when Carrie was not busy, she would wait for them to come off the school bus and listen to what they had to say. They would talk loudly enough for her to hear and usually had a funny thing or two to say before they climbed into the car to be escorted home.
There had even been an evening shopping trip with Mom and Carrie-Bri.
There was talk of the upcoming madrigal dinner; Carrie was to be one of the three student directors. She worked on costumes in the afternoon for Rose and Joe who were likely to dance, and Carrie would be involved in settling parts for the entire choir.
Upon telling Magnum (the tortured genius of the choir) that he was to write a new Shakespearean piece, he threw his hand to his head and declared:
“Oh my good lord,” and flourished away to begin his masterpiece.
They also discussed what Carrie would wear to the Fox to see “Les Miserables”, and of Daddy and his little leather bomber jacket from Carrie for Father’s Day the spring before. And there were Carrie’s plans to call Mrs. Pumpkin the following morning at the Kirk church pantry to reserve a day for community service for the graduating class.
And so they walked the mall a spell after dinner, Carrie decked out in camo-pants, soft pink laced boots, a white tank, and dark olive jacket. Collette had worn her necklace with the feather pendant Joe had brought back for her from Scout camp three years ago.
Finally, Carrie settled on a lovely dove-rose-gray silken skirt, Art-Deco, with a sequined pattern up three fronts, and cut to several large points around the edge, with a simple black lace top. Carrie also decided to order a thin silver sequined scarf to wrap delicately around her neck. It would arrive in the mail later.
Collette found a spring green sweater and a turquoise t-shirt for work.
It was always good to go out for fast food and some good laughs. The moon sat low, a giant on the horizon that night, full and cinnamon spice in all its splendor among the rain clouds. It was fully magnificent and as it rose higher and smaller in the sky, it paled to lantern yellow, and then to full white, high above.
Collette was inspired by the evening, as she usually was. Spending time at home with her family was the equality of happiness, enchantment, and the very meaning of home. And when OLeif came along after work, it all seemed complete inside. It was the most comforting thing she knew.
She read more of Shirley Temple before bed that night, of her producer, Zanuck, who was known to watch films until the very early hours of the morning, sleep till nine, and have breakfast of fruit and yogurt over French and Spanish lessons until arrival at the studio by eleven.
And then there was the Fox Theater, which she loved to see in her mind. It was a fabulous place, nearly the sort of Opera House where one might expect the Phantom to dwell. It did claim its own ghost in the fifth level, where, apparently, few went.
The inside was lavish, as if uprooted from Asia or India – a marvelous recreation of Orient beauty. Two savage gold lions guarded the stair case upon entry, and when guests were present, their eyes glowed. The most intricate detail and color – gems and gold and red marble pillars, colored glass, and potted ferns and greenery. It was a beloved place, and Collette was so happy with it.
Red velvet seats and a magnificent chandelier above the boxes and seats – of a myriad of colored glass. And high above – the catwalk. The most marvelous place to visit, and always dark and full of unexplored halls.
It was always an impressive thing to relate to friends that her uncle was the president of such an important and curious place. He even traveled to England and Europe in search of good plays to be brought over, and had a hand in introducing “Thoroughly Modern Millie” to the stage. He was presented, along with several others, the Tony Award, for his efforts. It was a proud moment to watch him on stage in New York while they were all gathered around the television back home.