Tacks & Paint
On the day that only came once every four years, Collette was introduced to “closed time circles” by Carrie-Bri.
Mom and Mrs. English had an old friend in town – Mrs. Raven – who was leading a team at the robotics convention which also included her two youngest sons. It had been nearly six years since they had been back for a visit. And Garret was getting married at Myrtle Beach in May.
Carrie fixed up a special batch of molasses-soaked French toast (which included other tasty ingredients) dusted with powdered sugar for lunch. And the Puck chowed down on his second-ever banana.
Shortly later, Mom took Frances and Linnea to first join the Pies at Great Skate, and then to pick up Dad from the airport before going to basketball practice. Fridays seemed to be social butterfly days for them lately, like in the good old Snicketts-English get-together days.
Meanwhile, there was still an amazing amount of work to be done in the basement. The painting was almost finished, at least, which Collette and Carrie wrapped up early in the afternoon. However, there were still boxes, bags, clothing, trash, books, and every imaginable thing, piled everywhere. One couldn’t walk through the room. Carrie had basically decided to mound it all up and sort through piece by piece.
“I’m throwing almost everything away,” she announced.
She had, at least, warned them.
Joe decided to help them with moving furniture (as far as it was able to be moved in the great mess). He also sawed an extra hole in the back of the television cabinet to accommodate for cables and apparatus.
“OW!” he cried. “What was that?”
“Yes, my tacks are working,” Carrie said with an evil tone.
“You put tacks on the floor?” Collette asked her.
“Well, earlier I was a little angry that no one was helping me down here, so…”
Collette recalled earlier in the week when Rose had also stepped on a tack. Carrie had seemed to get a good laugh out of that one as well.
Puck was having happy times that afternoon. Bagels with cream cheese, bits of burritos, peanut butter cookies (which he wasn’t supposed to have, but somehow managed to anyway), and any other scraps he could beg off of people.
“I’m teaching him how to growl,” said Carrie. “And I’m going to teach him how to say to all the other little kids, ‘Make my day, punk!’”
Much how OLeif was prepared to teach him how to say “your mom”.
For dinner – more enchiladas and Italian blood soda. Over a film about Queen Elizabeth of an earlier age when the new world was still being explored.