No Straight Faces
Church included…
- Remedying a bleeding cankersore during the last hymn. [I think I’m becoming less confident with blood the older I get.] Then I felt silly after Mrs. Abbott explained she had once handled seventeen sores at the same time. She was a regular pro.
- A passel of hand-sewn neckties from the Rum family for Puck; he loved them. In fact, he opted to remain in his collared shirt for the remainder of the day so as to avoid removing the aeronautical tie in question.
Carrie presented a loaf of hot bread and two types of soup for lunch, one of which – the butternut squash and rice – retained a peculiar aroma…
“Sort of reminds me of Great Grandma Jewel’s house…” I suggested.
[No one ever pays attention to my nasal opinion, and for good reason.]
“I think it’s the olives.”
“Oh, probably Great Grandma Combs’ house then.”
“This soup is electrical,” Joe said.
“You’re right. That’s what it smells like.”
“Reminds me of the smell of those walkie talkies I got for Christmas when I was seven or eight,” Dad added.
I don’t think Carrie was too offended. Her palate is simply more refined.
As we adjourned to catch up on recent events – and there’s always something new – Puck squashed himself between his aunts, halfway on top of Rose. Carrie departed later, then returned holding her ear out to Rose.
“Rose. Take this earring out for me.”
“No.”
“I’ll do your nails if you do.”
“Fine. Bring your ear over here.”
“Ow!”
“What?”
“You’re pinching my ear!”
“Well, lose some weight!”
Typical.
We always have to dig up something interesting on a Sunday afternoon. And because we can never have too many donut runs – within reason – we elected to visit the Krispy Kreme in Florissant after all.
“Glazed!”
“Chocolate long johns!”
“Sprinkles!”
Two gallons of milk, one chocolate.
January-Wabash Park.
And only one, “Oh, how embarrassing,” as all ten of us piled out into the cold half-gray afternoon.
We benched ourselves by the lake where the boys took turns jumping onto an island grate, challenging each other to foot races, and similar competitive antics, while Carrie pulled over whichever willing sisters were available to act as wind shields on the bench. At one point there was also a ring of kids kicking each other in the backside for various obscure reasons around the donut boxes.
Mom filled us in on a little history – the pavilion amphitheater below a sloping green lawn where she, Dad, and the aunts and uncles performed in Sing Out back in high school. The lake where Mom and Uncle Mo would skate as kids, or Great Grandma Combs near the old Wabash Railroad, where she would take the trolley from Jennings as an old hang-out spot for the local teenagers back in the early 1930’s. Our history runs deep here.
Then Puck hooked himself on a misplaced fish hook and was doctored up by his aunts.
“Mom, I need more chocolate milk. I’m dehydrated.”
On the darkening ride home, Linnea made the embarrassing mistake of finding herself still willing to be dropped off at church for youth group. The big old green thing meandered over to the youth building and Joe pumped up his flashlight disco style. Linnea hopped out of a party bus, almost immune to the humiliation.
“Joe,” Carrie grinned from the back seat, “if you had been my older brother, I think I just would have died. I would have died.”