Mom's Birthday
Friday, November 26, 2004
Friday came with Mom’s forty-fifth birthday. It seemed a good day for blue and white streaks of clouds, perhaps a day for Egypt, or a trip down to The Outback for some Auzzie fries, a pumpernickel loaf or two, Alice Spring’s chicken spread with cheese and bacon, and some nice Ranch dip and sauces on the side, and a large cold soda, with their delicious seven-layer fudge cake. Collette’s mouth began to water at the thought. Although she was sure they would be serving turkey and ham left over from the Thanksgiving bash.
Earlier, after a service at Christ Presbyterian with OLeif’s family Thanksgiving morning, they took another swing by New Town, OLeif’s first chance to look it over.
At the depot, a sign of large color swatches caught their eye – the shades of new town in mochas, mints, creams, burnt umbers, spice, etc., some with tin roofs, perfect for rain, some with open-air courtyards and Italian grates over the doors, the Venetian canal to stretch around the entirety, cobbles in various colors of black, moss, brick, and cinnamon… Arrows indicating where the Ampitheater, Farmer’s Market, Fishing Pier, Civic Theatre, etc., were to be found, stood nearby on a black post. In the depot, they looked through the glass, to see Italian scooter-bikes, and old-fashioned bicycles ready for use, watercolor sketchings of the streets, and aerial photography of the site. They bought a lemonade nearby in the quiet wind and sunshine and the melting of snow. It seemed to be a lovely place.
Later, around three, the Combs, Grandma Combs, Grandma Snicketts, and Aunt Petunia’s brothers, Larry and Bob, came over. Uncle Bob was going to be in the FBI and Lucia was making plans for design school in Chicago. Many stories were swapped on these things with Carrie’s ambitious endeavors toward the SS, including jabs at Carrie’s “Madonna/Sydney Bristow”-do.
Collette had been greeted that afternoon by a moaning wail from the sink in the bathroom as Carrie-Bri blow-dried her newly-colored locks.
“No…” she looked mournfully in the mirror. “I should have left it alone.”
“I told you.” Collette looked in the mirror at her sister’s hair disaster. She thought a moment. “It’s awful.”
“I know. I just wanted blonde.”
“More like yellow with orange on top.” She looked like a cup of crème brulee.
“Make me sign a contract never to dye my hair again,” Carrie whined with a regretful laugh at her miserable hair.
“I will; in fact I’ll do it now.” Collette went downstairs to type up the contract, and presented it for signing shortly after, as a promise to leave her hair untouched at the cost of death by sword, fire, or monkeys, if she failed to keep it.
But other than this rather amusing incident, Thanksgiving was always the best, and the evening passed quickly with pumpkin pie and French Silk pie for dessert.
Meanwhile, the skies darkened from more storm clouds, the same butter cream and moss blue streaks beyond the bean-pod tree. Amazingly, they still swung from their branches through the snow, wind, and rain, and managed to giggle amongst themselves as they watched her type through the glass.
Collette decided she would need a cupcake in a few moments. After all, if she was to end up spending the day there all alone, she may as well enjoy it.
Plus, OLeif had finally settled his new music system from the computer after stringing something like fifty yards of cording and wires throughout the bedroom and living room. Surround sound was a pleasant thing, and Collette benefited from it of course. No more randomly picking CDs from the cabinet – they were already installed in the computer. He was quite a resourceful fellow, she thought to herself, always renovating, fixing, inventing something new. A jack-of-all-trades, as they called them. That was OLeif – everything from clay-sculpting and juggling, to potato guns and computer software – he did it all.
And there would be no Christmas tree that year, she concluded, which was all well and good, as there would be little room for it. They would set ornaments and lights about, and it would suffice. After all, there were going to be no Christmas parties there – they would be out and about with the family at other homes for the holidays.
And then she thought of their future… how when they could save enough, there would be school for OLeif, which could take five years or more. Then there would be a house and adoption costs for three little ones if possible. She never could decide what she liked the best, having all girls, several older girls and one boy, all older boys and one or two younger girls… she laughed at herself when she thought about it. How funny she must sound, trying to figure that one out.
Of course, even before that, there would be another car to purchase, and cell phones, other things that were needed. And if they ever found another home, OLief wanted it with woods where they would clean out the undergrowth and leave the tall trees with ivy and vibrant butterfly flowers and bright-colored leaves, with paths and “fairylights” amongst the fireflies. One day, she thought to herself.
But first, she would teach herself the Italian and French, and go onto the others. But as she knew all too well, plans were often thwarted, and never did quite match how they were originally proposed.
The morning seemed to be progressing in an unwanted way. Already she was nearly finished with her final assignment in Russian history. Vacuuming and dish-washing would have to wait till later. The last thing she wished to do was housework on such a day. And after fixing the phone, she called over at home twice, with no answer, so she rather suspected she would be alone for a longer spell than she anticipated. No matter, she thought to herself – later she would find would more interesting things to be done.
She felt like taking a trip to the “market” (or, the more un-intriguing label – grocery store – Dierbergs), for a camembert cheese. Then to fry it, slice it into wedges, and have it over a bottle of sparkling grape juice and Lawrence Welk and the Saturday Night silver screen movie. Of course, it was only Friday… but nevertheless, she felt like getting out, getting back home.
The apartment was still foreign to them both, and she liked to take a breather from it every now and then. OLeif felt like home was the Silverspoon residence, and for Collette it was the place she had lived in nearly all her twenty years – the Snicketts’ home on a shady acre off Balboa Court. Perhaps one of those days the dark apartment would become more of a home to them, but it took time, and she still preferred the idea of her old home always being home.
She thought of Joe, and how he was such a great little brother – well, no longer so little. Every time someone would leave the house, even if just for an brief errand, he would be there at the window, or at the front door, usually accompanied by an animal or someone else, to wave them off. He would still hug everyone goodnight or good bye with an, “I love you”. He was quite a guy, and Collette couldn’t be more happy to have him and OLeif get along so well with each other. Joe seemed to look up to OLeif in many ways, and she was glad for it.
The conversation would usually begin with Joe saying, “Hey, OLeif, look at this awesome bike seat I got. Feel it – isn’t it cool?”
“Hey, man,” OLeif would come over and take the piece, “that’s awesome. When’d you get it?”
“Last night. I’m getting new handlebars next.”
“Cool, man.”
It would always be on some bike piece, computer game, youth group, think-tanker subject they’d get on to, and then some silly business to even it all up and top it off.