Play by Play
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
The sunrise was stripped that morning, subterranean bands of light on the ride out east.
It didn’t take long to be surprised by something new, back on the ranch.
“Whoa. What is that?”
– Some curious looking feline sat patiently waiting at the basement door, that Collette did not recognize. –
“Wait. Is that Pumpkin?”
It was indeed. Now that she had been patchily shaved down to where all of her black fur was whittled to near-nothing, she resembled a smaller species of dinosaur, and had the confidence to return to the public eye without embarrassment. Apparently she loved her new look, bearing some resemblance to a shorn sheep.
Puck was busy running around with a clothespin, sneakily attaching it to Linnea’s ponytail when she wasn’t looking, then erupting into giggles.
“Check out this damage,” Carrie lifted up the collar of Linnea’s blue robe.
– Swiss cheese. –
“Isn’t it cute?”
Earnest.
“He was a little angry yesterday…” Linnea half-smiled.
Collette sent Puck back to his Raisin Bran before resuming his studies.
As Dad departed for his morning run, the house became quiet with Linnea and Mom working on studies in Mom’s room, Francis at work, Joe in his room, Carrie following her own routine of the day, involving preparations for multiple investors meetings, meet-and-greets, and interviews, etc. the following day, and Puck scrubbing Snuggles between the ears in the basement…
“I’m stuck down here, Mama,” the bright-eyed boy explained when Collette opened the door. “Snuggs is purring me.”
Collette and Puck adjourned shortly later to the tree swing. Collette explained the concept of “night people” and “morning people” to Puck.
“Joe and Linnea are night people,” she told him.
“They don’t like to get up in the mornings,” said Puck. “But they have to else. Morning is a time to work. Else or they won’t get money to buy food and then they will die. Right?”
“Well…”
“But we don’t talk about that in puglic [public].”
Dad returned from three miles, Puck waving him in, as Linnea climbed to the roof with her ukulele, barefoot.
After an half-hour session of swinging, some angry buzzing mad thing persuaded them to depart, should a ground nest be disturbed to their own detriment. There were other interests indoors, however. Mom provided a heavy bag of odd assorted metallic objects, hooks, beaners, gadgets, etc…
“Little boys love playing with nuts and bolts,” she said.
“Yes, but I’m doing business right now,” Puck agreed importantly.
He could be seen later walking around with a heavy clatter of “keys” hanging from his arm while pulling a box of dyed tongue depressors from the art cabinet. Collette helped him construct houses and arrange patterns on the floor.
“Mama,” said Puck dismally. “You’re better at making things than I am.”
“You know,” said Joe from the couch, “Neil Armstrong thought he was better than the moon. And then he stomped on the moon’s face… But you can’t stomp on your Mom’s face.”
Dad had Mom, Collette, and Carrie review the final dedications and summaries of his dissertation.
Joe and Puck flipped around the frisbee for awhile.
Joe prepped his lunch of pan-fried bagel. He rummaged in the pantry for additional flavors, removing the jar of beef bouillon…
“Do you think I could put beef particles on it and make it taste better?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Let’s live on the edge.”
A few hefty branches were down in the rolling waves of green in the afternoon winds, spreading white blossoms like snow.
Puck watched a documentary on spacecraft with Joe following a lunch of cheddar and Ritz crackers.
After preparing Francis his customary egg sandwich, Collette worked with Linnea on her big semester paper for an hour while braiding her hair.
For “Puck and Grandma” time, Puck had earned enough “good behavior” stickers on his chart to make acquaintance with an ice cream cone.
Linnea watered her packs of wildflower seeds from Saturday’s parade and spooned out frozen raspberries over The Dick Van Dyke Show, joined by Francis.
Joe got busy chopping up ground in the back corner of the yard for a fresh bike track.
And Earnest was in trouble for chomping down some aluminum foil.
“Guess what we saw?” Mom asked, returning with the paper sack of ice cream bars. “Want to tell them, Puck?”
Puck grinned…
“A horse going through the drive through!”
Somehow not entirely shocking in Weldon Spring – the land between historic city and wine country.
As a result, Puck was inspired enough to take off galloping across the yard on Carrie’s old hobby horse. And as the afternoon clouded over, he returned indoors to sit in his dump truck, casually footing himself around the house while perusing the Mid Rivers Magazine Cardinals edition, two-handed.
Wednesdays always wrapped up quickly.
Dinner at four and out the door.
After a week’s break for spring, the children resumed their usual clusters in the large white building on the former farm. What they had farmed originally, Collette couldn’t quite remember. A brother and sister visiting from Arkansas, right out of an episode from Adventures in Odyssey, the girl in fat pigtails with white bows, and sparkly silver sequin shoes. There were no less than six injuries reported from the week at the eager jibbering of the children present, including stitches for one little girl, wearing the same silver shoes. And a lost tooth.
The semi-wild evening included bundling bouquets of chocolate bunnies, marshmallow bunnies in glittery pink, chocolate eggs, pinwheels, etc. When the din rose to a new level and Daisy-Jean was getting a little worried the craft would be just too much to handle…
“Oh, Lord, help me. Now, you’re going to take the marshmallow bunny and…”
The shiny cobaltish beast – any car that asked your “pardon”… – pulled into the Silverspoon’s driveway not long after seven, greeted by the black dog and calico cat, hungrily seeking their belated dinner.