Snores
The chaps in red were really getting killed out in San Diego. Beat up, bruised, men down, shredded… things were hanging by that proverbial, highly unkind thread.
If they could just last… twenty… more… games.
But life went on.
Cat rescue at 8:18 AM.
After removing her from the catwalk of capped wires and ancient fuzz that was the air ventilation in the basement by way of laundry basket, order was temporarily restored.
Then Mom had to run out the car keys to me.
Brain befuddled.
On the drive back we passed Mom snipping small wild sunflowers in a vacant field by the highway. That Combs innovation.
On our own ride out, Puck was pretty certain he kept hearing tornado sirens…
“I think the tornado is in North Africa,” he determined finally.
“I think that’s just the sounds from the car, bud.”
“Hm. I guess you’re right,” Puck mused. “Doesn’t that sound like a planet spinning very very fast?”
The music of the spheres.
We discussed the vacuum of space.
Francis was waiting with a loud surprise for Puck – a plastic-y gatling gun with much ammo. The boys had already been practicing their shooting range with Dad, who would duck behind cabinets with that typical Dad-giggle in the heat of the war zone. It didn’t take long, however, before frantic battle broke out in the living room and Puck was eventually banned to the corner for his poor war conduct.
When all remonstrances and apologies had been concluded, the boys raided the fridge and pantry before eleven.
Always hungry.
Mom caught me up on old family friends in Iowa City before joining Joe and Linnea-Rose for their triple eye appointments at Costco.
Apparently they’re the best-rated eye appointment in the country, or something like that. Who knew. Linnea mentioned something about purple eye contacts as they walked out the door… But, alas, her vision was 20/20.
Moving on with the day, I about fell asleep through Francis’ algebra lecture. The kid’s right – that stuff is boring. I had sort of forgotten the levels of possible boredom attained in imperfect cube root polynomials. Well, maybe it was just because I had sort of accidentally skipped breakfast and my blood sugar was obviously low. But still…
Meanwhile, Puck surveyed the damage of gun darts in the living room and shook his head…
“Grandma’s going to have my head.”
Mom was not bothered.
In fact, there was chocolate milk waiting for Puck. And a haircut by Carrie-Bri while Linnea and I laughed over linear graphs, who was originally bouncing a green balloon up and down during the television lecture.
Seriously.
Sometimes math is just funny.
We struck out for church shortly after five.
I guess it’s that time of year again. Since when did a year fly like it has this time? I don’t like it, and I do.
While Puck ran crazy sweaty circles with all the kids at church, Mom and I cataloged more unending titles in the library until she joined Dad at a parents’ meeting for Francis’ YMCA swim team. And Linnea volunteered her time between helping with the junior high and cleaning up the sanctuary.
A disappointing sweep in San Diego finished the evening.
Ug.
And Puck, oblivious to all woes of baseball, fell asleep with Spongebob Squarepants eye mask.