Moving in Continues
Sunday, December 11, 2011
In which more things happen and everyone is busy doing something…
It was still bad… photos of Albert Pujols and his family already in Angels uniforms, smiling and waving at their fans. It was pretty sad…
A few hours of sleep, and nightmares of packs of monstrous Irish-banshee-vampire-mermaid-sirens left Collette somewhat fatigued Sunday morning.
Upon return to the house, Carrie had prepared lunch. This included a pot of mashed white on the stove…
“What is that?” Francis asked, with his usual skepticism.
“Mashed cauliflower.”
“No way.”
“Carrie, you’re not serious,” Linnea protested.
“Yup.”
“It’s potatoes. You’re kidding.” Linnea removed the lid of the pot. “It is cauliflower! Carrie!!”
In the end, however, it was potatoes. And the two youngest Snicketts children breathed a sigh of relief.
During lunch, Francis was complimenting himself on a job well done at the Y the other day…
“Yeah, so you get paid to sit all day,” Joe joked.
“I get paid to think big thoughts,” Francis replied with his usual grin.
“Right,” said Carrie. “The only big thoughts you have up there are about super sizing your Big Mac meal on the way home.”
Even Dad laughed at this one.
As the afternoon continued, Mom departed for a concert at one of the cathedrals downtown, and dinner, with a friend, while the remaining eight citizens of House Snicketts loaded up Francis’ old antique chest into the green slug and thundered off once again to Dog Town. On the way, Joe and Puck thought it would be funny to tug on Collette’s and Linnea’s hair from time to time, and laugh.
Rose, shortly returned from Sunday services herself, was slowly progressing into homestead living, accompanied by large plants, uneaten beginnings of meals in the fridge, and new supplies for her arriving cat.
During the wi-fi set-up, restructuring of furniture, and fixing of the ancient library closet door, Puck, maybe feeling a little lonely for his aunt, found it necessary to call from the other room…
“Rose, you should get married, and then you won’t be all alone here!”
Rose just laughed.
Then Dad took the youngest three kids to the basement to visit the padlocked steel door to the nuclear fall-out shelter, which might still be stocked with radios, food, and who knew what else, or how large the structure actually was.
Back at the house, darkness arrived quickly as Francis prepared to leave for youth group. And everyone else covered the general topics of the week, names, beards, and the missed opportunity of signing up Puck to be in baby commercials.
“He could still do it,” said Carrie. “Puck, say, ‘One hundred percent juice!’”
And later…
“Puck, what should Onion name her cat?”
“Stick! Stick the Bean Bean!”
Meanwhile, Collette was tired of reading articles about Albert and the Angels. It was all sour. Enough was enough.