Who Will Host the Games?

Wednesday, July 6, 2005

And in the end, London was to host the games of 2012 after Moscow, New York and Madrid, and finally Paris were knocked out of the running.

Wednesday was spent on errands. After Joe drove over to have his environmental science merit badge approved, (dressed smartly in his Scout shirt, Philmont belt, new jeans, and white street shoes), there was a lunch of grilled cheese at home.

Then they all dropped by the library – Mom, Joe, Collette, Francis, and Linnea. Francis and Linnea had completed their summer reading program and came back with a light-up squish medallion apiece. Francis’ was a sun and Linnea’s was a star. And she found a pool toy in the shape of a green dragon with an orange flame coming from his mouth.

Then Wal-Mart followed, Joe picking up on some new car wax, and he selected several possible Hondas for OLeif to check into.

Meanwhile, Carrie was at Worlds of Fun, enjoying her Kansas City 3-day venture. It was precisely the break she had been needing. And Joe was to mow the yard with Francis and Linnea playing outside before they left for the Hobcoggin’s for fireworks that night.

“Come on, Joe,” Mom called to him. “Get that lawn done.”

“Coming, mamas,” Joe called out as they carried in the bags from the car.

He was currently quite excited about his new bike fixtures and was not easily side-tracked to get his chores finished. Why he wasn’t working at a detail shop or bike shop already, Collette didn’t know. It seemed no one could be hired for such work until they turned eighteen. Didn’t OLeif have to work at a candle shop when he was seventeen because no one would hire someone that young? Plus the fact that he knew he wouldn’t be tempted to buy anything while working at a candle shop… Smart thinking.

Mom and Collette spent the afternoon sitting on the outside swing discussing things and looking over cards and wrapping paper to order from a catalog. And for dinner, Mom whipped up a crockpot of thick-cut ham and beans and Collette made cornbread muffins. There were some good laughs over dinner, especially when Dad started playing with Francis’ BB gun, practicing his aim.

“Martin,” OLeif said, “you have an angry aiming face.”

“Really?” Dad asked, surprised, aiming once again.

Everyone started laughing.

“Oh, no,” Mom chuckled, “now he’s going to be practicing all the time. We wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley.”

Dad guffawed and continued to practice his aim.

“We wouldn’t want to meet Carrie in a dark alley either,” Mom said. “But watch her end up with ten boys in Toledo, Ohio. ‘Oh, this isn’t where I planned on being,’” Mom imitated her. “’Now eat your macaroni!’” As if she were scolding one of her sons.

And soon they were all off to the Hobcoggin’s for a pleasant evening of fireworks over the lake. The water bombs were one of the favorites, and Rose’s collection of giant rockets were some of the best. A good evening…