One Hundred Eighteen
Rose had made a purchase. An expensive new bag. Real Italian leather. Well, I think it was Italian. She paraded it around to all of us. Dad wasn’t as interested in the leather as much as he was about her hair…
“Well, you have it pulled up…” he sort of said to himself, eyeing the “Beethoven” style as Carrie calls it.
“Dad’s trying to decide whether you went to church or not,” Carrie told her. “We always know by whether you did your hair nice or not.”
“None of your business,” Rose taunted.
We had to leave before Rose got to elaborate on that subject. All of us except the boys, that is, who were still out galavanting at church. It was Linnea-Irish’s last volleyball tournament of the season, and it was taking place just down the road for once, instead of someplace over in Illinois.
We found seats pushed up against the wall in the blue bleachers. Boy’s old high school. Linnea was reffing one game before she could play again. So we waited. We waited a long time, actually.
Rose passed around a bar of coffee-chocolate from Vanbuskirk’s and talked about her plans to decorate Annamaria’s wedding reception with Mom. My boys sat up in the high corner.
And we all just sort of lolled around until Linnea finally took the floor. By that time, though, some of us were getting restless, including Rose…
“Is this thing almost over? I need to get back and bear grease my purse.”
So we got to watch #4 play for about seven minutes total. But it was seven minutes more than most of us had seen all season. So we took it.
Rose had one more comment as we exited the gym…
“My hair does look like Beethoven’s.”
We all have those kinds of days…
Back on the ranch, both boys were asleep. Wiped out.
“Those must have been some exhausting church services,” The Bear laughed at Francis, who had half an eye open.
And as soon as Snuggs took up residence on Dad’s lap in the rocking chair, Dad started nodding off too.
“A whole cow had to die for this.”
Rose held up her leather purse for one more round of compliments. She got busy on that Finnish bear grease.
“Mom, look!” Puck said excitedly. “Sun gave me that tiny bottle of syrup for my SYRUP COLLECTION!”
“Oh!… I didn’t know you had a syrup collection…”
“Well, I didn’t. But this is my first one!”
Joe walked up the stairs…
“Have some chocolate,” Rose offered him. “I thought you were working there yesterday.”
“It has coffee in it,” Dad said. “Tastes terrible.”
We’re not all that huge into coffee around here. Most of us anyway.
“Want some chocolate?” Joe offered Puck.
“I can’t. It has caffeine in it.”
“Just enough to punch through walls.”
“I need to leave soon, get some Greek done,” The Bear thought aloud. “Forgot my books.”
“You don’t need your books,” Joe told him. “Just think about synergy.”
“Your mom thinks about synergy,” Rose echoed from the other room.
“Why’d you leave the room when I walked in?” The Bear asked me.
“That’s because you’re being clingy,” Francis taunted. “Leave her alone.”
– The Bear changed directions and walked towards Francis. Francis moved fast… –
“Please don’t hurt me!”
“Get your feet out of that!” Rose bellowed at Joe, whose appendages were caved inside her bag for the leather bag.
“Besides,” said Puck, “feet are disgusting.”
“Amen to that. Brutha,” Rose grinned at him.
This is how things happen.
And Joe and Puck were already busy interacting on other higher forms of conversation…
“I would glue your feet to your stomach.”
“Well, I would glue your face to your stomach.”
“And I would glue your feet to your face.”
“Then I would glue your face to the ceiling.”
Mom and Dad went to the store to pick up chili fixings and Fritos. Francis dropped Linnea off at the youth talent show. Puck watched Dumbo with his aunts. They double-featured The Aristocrats with the rest of the family for dinner. It was sort of cold and wet outside, so we didn’t mind.
