Short One Buddy
With Puck over at the Big House from Friday’s spend-the-night, El Oso bought a sack of Hardee’s for breakfast before helping Tasha next door with more computer issues. I lay flat on my back, Crackers napping on my stomach, with El Oso’s heated rice pack under my neck, strained from three games of intense watching at the ballpark this week. I should put myself on the DL.
Puck waited for us with another fruit popsicle, running to the truck from the house front where Dad was hanging the porch swing, Mom eyeballing it. Carrie-Bri and Rose watched a fuzzy Argentina-Iran match on the laptop at the coffee table, Rose complaining about the prominent lack of strawberries in her bowl of Special K. Mentioned Ricky running a 6K that morning; no training. Tried to get her to join him. No go.
Anyway, the wildflowers were alive, first day of summer, flocks of chicory (always makes me think of Cherokee) and those bunches of little white daisies, yellow, Queen Anne’s lace, etc. Dirt-puffy cloud whites on blue, floating slowly in the haze of a late June morning.
But it wasn’t all sweet that morning. Good old Sebastian, poor chap, had come to the end Friday night. Big black dog with a happy heart, I think. Still managed to bound around with Puck in the yard even in the pain. Puck’s tears left him thinking that morning:
“Too bad Sebastian died. We had a lot of fun times together.”
This required a few levels of Lego Star Wars on the laptop, inspired by Friday’s movie night, to pad the sadness.
An old friend was up from Arkansas, gathering her family from the airport, visiting from Alaska. The places people’s lives takes them is always interesting.
Muggy oven of an afternoon, begging for rain. Sat outside with quinoa dark chocolate brought back from California, waiting for the game at 3:10.
Roast, sweet potato, and rice for a late lunch. Izzy was shooting that wedding for his 21st somewhere near Tower Grove Park. Gloria and Puck ran some necessary equipment out to him, stayed to play. Theodore and El Oso hauled in a load of treated wood from Home Depot for our new landscaping. Not sure El Oso’s plan for it yet; something about railroad spikes. I don’t know. I watch baseball; he organizes flower beds. Something’s probably not right about that. That baseball turned out well for me during the afternoon.
When I emerged about three hours later, the sky was notably less bright. Thunder somewhere out there.
Dark rain, dark green, dim light, wind, and gold lamp of a Saturday evening when the June storms are just about right.