The Art of Eclecticism
Despite a tempered sniffle, Puck was himself again, so he sat with me during church and was regrettably kept from Sunday School. To cheer his dis-cheer, I told him about my dreams in the night, which he asks about often…
“We were out in the mountains and found a giant hill of small gray pebbles. So we climbed to the top of it, but it was kind of hard, because the pebbles kept slipping down. But when we got to the top, we heard thunder and saw lightening in the mountains. Then all these flocks of birds flew down over us, one flock at a time. Blue jays, Cardinals, eagles, geese… Then we got off the hill away from the lightening, and you and Andrew went to play in a city park where it was raining a little.”
His eyes just get big, imagining.
The wind was terrific after church. Riveted ribbons of grays, blues, and white moving swiftly across the sky, the occasional blue sky patch, folding through groves of red, orange, and yellow trees.
Joe strapped his laptop to the kitchen table in time for the Red Bull space jump early in the afternoon, as Carrie served up corn chowder, biscuits, and apple cider fudge. We clustered around the screen to wait as the brave Austrian took his stand at the edge of space. Just before he jumped, his voice crackled from behind the helmet visor…
“I’m going home.”
Man’s highest free fall commenced. Several minutes passed as we waited to see if he broke the sound barrier, which he did.
“Looks like it’d get kind of boring,” Rose commented.
Only Rose would say that about a man jumping out of a balloon into space.
We had a bit of a gulp as he started flipping around in wild circles as he tumbled through the upper atmosphere. But then applause at mission control as he regained a steady fall and parachuted ultimately safe to an expansive field of Roswell sunshine, collapsing to his knees back to earth.
A light rain fell in the wind past open windows and doors. Snuggles watched from behind, hoping for another escape opportunity. I disguised more of Gloria’s Congaplex in a mug of warm cider for Puck, who had been doodling with The Bear on the picnic tables. He gulped it down. Rose poured a dish of chia seeds and ate them, explaining the latest update on her sponsor child in India.
“These things are supposed to be good for your brain,” she said, munching the tiny green seeds. “They look like little beetles.”
“What do they taste like?” I asked her.
“Plant.”
Meanwhile, Puck was getting his Minecraft fix of the week. I know technology is moving forward when I hear my five year-old announce importantly…
“I’m so rich. I can even spawn lava everywhere.”
And Joe once again lounged under the kitchen table with the cat before snacking on a handful of croutons.
I trimmed up Francis’ baby beard, per his request.
And he bought pizzas, per Dad’s request.
Mom and Dad pulled in from another “wonderful weekend” in Branson, to join us for dinner under continued fast-rushing clouds. Go figure they met two couples from church while they were there.
Puck achieved one more feat before the Hardy Boys that night. He popped a moderately fat Congaplex pill into his mouth and swallowed first try with one sip of water. He was quite proud.
And I tried not to gnaw away the minutes until the seven o’clock pitch.