Need for Speed -- Truly
Early ride out – 7:30. The Bear was off work for the holiday weekend, but seminary didn’t observe Labor Day Friday, apparently. We joined him. After Puck downed another breakfast sandwich in the car, he tucked both hands behind his head, propping dried muddy boots on the console.
We crossed the tennis bracelet of the west-bound highway under Isaac-gloom. Puck jumped out onto the parking lot in fifteen year-old Norway Cruiseline t-shirt, jeans, red wellies, and Upward backpack, that somehow now fits him. A little ping pong, licorice, and grumpy whining concluded the first half of the morning as the Bear sing-songed diphthongs in a room with the bow-tied-tea-mug-Carolina professor where he, and I quote…
“Blend[s] into the ‘beard-ground’.”
Does he ever.
We blindfolded Joe in a Garfield bandana at eleven-thirty and Puck led him by the hand through the rain to the car, then caravan-ed toward Joe’s early birthday present – sans Dad and Rose [work] and Linnea [volleyball tournament] – hoping to trick him in the process.
“You know where you are?” Mom asked before we removed the blindfold.
“Family Arena.”
Of course he was right. You can’t fool Joe with anything involving cars or roads.
Yes.
Joe had been gifted – from the entire family – the opportunity to race a Ferrari with his own two hands and feet. We waited. Puck puddle-jumped, elicited a small sucker from the candy aunt’s purse… Right as they directed Joe to the gray beast of some number or letter model I don’t know what, the rain began to fly harder and faster. We watched from the sidelines as Joe tore up asphalt. He was driving so fast and so well that even the professional driver riding shot-gun expressed admiration, clutching the seats despite the smooth turns. Joe grinned, maybe a little dazed, as he echoed in the gray spit. We lunched on drive-through Steak ‘n Shake as we waited for Joe’s photo CD to be released.
The afternoon included more heavy rain, two rounds of tornado sirens, and salads with omelets for dinner.
Thought of the Day
So… I know these three sisters from Louisiana.
This gorgeous trio you could crudely break down, oldest to youngest, into the following categories…
1. Miss America Pinterest prodigy
2. Miss Louisiana Pottery Barn spokeswoman
3. Anthropologie indie-band model
[Hey, I know a few things about shopping.] Granted, it has been a very long time since I have regularly communicated with any of these southern gems. [While they lived in St. Louis for a few years, we enjoyed some escapades amongst my sisters and the English girls.] So these boxy descriptions may not accurately suffice beyond surface level. But I confess that I am fascinated at their ability to be… well, amazing, I guess. [“The Incredibles”, noted.]
So from time to time I’ll check in on their portfolios of sophisticated and/or artsy-music photos on the interwebs, just to see how my current state of Midwest life compares to the elegance and charming beauty of these Southern belles.
I am – even though duly prepared – usually always semi-shocked at the severity of the gap.
Take me for instance.
Puck turns five. I’m fortunate if I grab a sack of brats from Costco to slap on the grill and maybe slice up a few melons and a box of strawberries.
These girls, on the other hand… hand-paint cookies, stamp-punch monogrammed hors d’oeuvres picks, and employ professional photographers to capture all the colors and textures of the party. I mean, they order customized cakes for half-birthdays, for crying out loud. [Not really.] Artistically arranged family photos in sunlight woods. Multiple vacations to Hawai’i [where they weren’t digging in the dirt for two thousand year-old sling stones]. Elegant “girls nights out” [whatever that means], stepped fresh out of Nordstrom catalogs.
Maybe it’s absolutely common for women in their mid-twenties to live in gated communities with brick accent walls and acid-stained floors, or to produce multiple indie records with multiple indie bands, for all this business of sun dresses and Polaroids… But I’m pretty sure it’s more a basic fact that these lovely ladies just got it together when adulthood snapped the “take one” clapboard.
I’m actually completely genuinely happy that these girls are happy with their unique lives and talented abilities to create interesting pictures and memories for their families. I love that kind of stuff. I enjoy their creative imaginations. It takes all kinds to spin the world. But – and I just kind of laugh at myself – in the game of being a girl… I totally lose.