Stomping Grounds
Monday, May 28, 2012
“I’m going to be a baseball player and a painter,” said Puck in the kitchen that morning. “At the same time. I don’t know how I’ll do it. But… I’ll soon know how. First, you get lots of paints. First of all, you need to get fur. Like from Ma-teline. But not poor Ma-teline, because she doesn’t have claws to defend herself. But I’ll see what chicken or cat can defend theirselves…”
“What?…”
“I want to paint animals. Like fish or somethin’. But not real ones at all.”
OLeif joined Puck in the kitchen over breakfast yogurt…
“Hey, Puck. You want to go to the park?”
“I’m not sure about that…”
“Why?”
“Well, because you’re wearing a brown shirt.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“You look like chocolate.”
The boys biked the park for an hour while Collette cleaned and put away, around the cowgirl riding a triceratops, the piles of too-many bananas, the stacks of OLeif’s random business-related t-shirt collection.
In a house ruled by boys…
They returned with scavenged finds – tree bark and “squirrel food” (tiny green nuts).
Gloria was cleaning the china cabinet of old auction finds and Prussian, French, Japanese, etc. relics while OLeif and Theodore discussed business and websites for an hour or so.
So Dad felt like visiting his old stomping grounds of four years in Columbia.
Once Francis had knocked off the morning shift at work, the whole crew swung out for the 1.5-hour drive to middle Missouri.
Staring at many clouds in deep thought. A primordial fishbone the size of Rhode Island. Sunshades that gave the world a 1960’s photograph tint. Francis fell asleep. Linnea juiced up the iPod, disco ball earbuds.
It was hot, but with half the sky covered, spread out, and some breeze, the walk around the ghost town to the six eroding pillars was not uncomfortable.
G & D Steakhouse. A little 81 year-old grandpa hosted them – the same fellow who ran it back in Dad’s college days during the time when he had tried his first taco…
“We grew up with farm meals,” he explained.
The Greek gentleman’s grandson took their orders. Steak sandwiches, ham and cheese, double cheese, etc., while they caught the last inning and a half of the game screened on the wall.
“I’ll have to tell all my little friends about this place,” Puck said later, sandwiched beside Carrie in the booth. They have the best toast.”
Then Carrie tried to convince him he was sitting in a kissing booth…
“This is not a kissing booth, Sun!”
Carrie wrapped Puck’s remaining steak fries in a napkin for him to finish in the car.
“Hmmm. Potatoes,” OLeif grunted.
“I don’t have potatoes, Dad.”
“They’re made of potatoes. It’s like a magical kingdom.”
Dixie Cream Donuts provided a dozen freshly baked gems of chocolate, cream, and color. Puck chose the chocolate cake donut with chocolate frosting and mini M’nMs.
More clouds – three kings sitting on the back of a turtle. Some techno swing.
“I can’t believe Puck’s five,” Francis noted later, as they turned the back way towards the house.
“What? I’m getting fired?” Puck asked in concern.
“Yup. I’m firing you as my nephew.”