Patsy
Friday, August 31, 2007
OLeif was telling stories about funny things Wednesday morning:
“There was starlight and pixie dust, and the antelope was singing us a song. Dandelions dancing in the dirt and playing marbles with the daisies. Beavers are playing the bagpipes. And antelopes and penguins are making homemade drums and baskets out of velvet and wheat.”
Sometimes he broke out in spontaneous children’s tales.
Puck was growing up. He was becoming a little person. Squash was on the menu for lunch. He puckered and swallowed. Then like a baby bird he opened his mouth for more. His ravenous appetite continued.
That afternoon OLeif dropped in for lunch. Puck was talking to himself on his back on the carpet, examining his chubby fingers. OLeif talked to him also:
“Caboose! Caboose caboose!”
Puck giggled. He spouted a great war cry and attacked the rocking chair with his pudgy heels. Lo and behold, at 1:37pm, he rolled himself over onto his stomach. This was a great feat, and he exulted in his triumph by gurgling and slobbering all over his blanket and pushing himself around with his toes.
Thursday afternoon, Mom, Collette, Linnea, and Puck headed out to run errands for the parties. While Mom ran into Wal-Mart, everyone else stayed out in the van while Puck napped.
“Is that human hair?” Collette asked.
“Where?” Linnea asked.
“Tied to the antenna on that van in front of us.”
“I don’t know. Can I get out and check?”
“Well…”
“I’ll be really quick.”
“OK.”
Linnea hopped out and inspected the tuft of hair. She returned with a report:
“I think it belongs to an animal.”
Minutes later, the driver of the vehicle returned – a middle-aged Hispanic woman with long black hair clipped over to one side of her neck. She carried no shopping bags.
“Hey, Patsy,” she called to something in the car.
Collette and Linnea watched to see if a dog would pop its head up in the window. There was no dog. The woman got inside the van and began to talk to none other than the rubber duck sitting on the dashboard. She patted it on the head and continued to do so as she backed out of the parking space. Collette and Linnea looked at each other in wonderment.
The topic of conversation soon changed as Linnea sipped her soda:
“Collette, what would happen if the birds started attacking everyone – all the birds?”
It was about this time that Mom returned with the prequel of autumn breezes.
Those days were beautiful. Collette spent the rest of her afternoon thinking about Marie Antoinette and waiting for the Blue Angels to fly over the house where Carrie was moaning over writing dry papers in her tie-dyed NASA T-shirt.
Friday, Rose and Linnea were singing Beatles hits at the computer. There was also a new addition to the animal repertoire of the house – a box turtle.
“His name is Jimmy,” Rose announced.
Later, while Collette worked on baking three giant chocolate chip cookies, Rose returned:
“His name is actually Caesar.”
She let him take saunters through the living room.
Meanwhile, two of the cookies baked crisp. The Snicketts girls, all of them, had a habit of forgetting things in the oven.
Puck was up early from his nap and sucking on an apple core on Carrie’s lap. Then he took a supervised ride on Joe’s back around the kitchen. Carrie sang for Puck as Joe loped through the kitchen:
“I am I, Don Quixote, the Lord of La Mancha. My destiny calls and I go…”
Outside, a rumble was heard on the horizon.
“Quick, quick!”
Most everyone piled outside. In seconds, Carrie and Joe were up on the roof with their cameras. For the next half hour before Collette and Puck left for the day, the Blue Angels thundered across the skies. Twice, they flew low, directly above the house – once, four of them at a time. There was no thrill like a Blue Angel rocketing over your head and wishing to be the pilot inside.