Willie the Wasp, and the Donut-Head

Monday, June 6, 2005

It was D-Day, Normandy, and a new moon. And Collette was ready for a full week of work.

Sunday, Rose was all excited about her new fish and the skull and cross bones gracing the rocks below. Dad was also taking the family out to Culver’s for dinner (except for Carrie who was at work, and OLeif who joined them later after returning from Justus’ party). Everyone piled in the car, waiting for Mom who was examining the newly planted tree in the front landscaping.

“Get in the back seat with the kids, Joe,” Dad told him as Collette took over his seat.

“Aw, Dad, they’re so annoying,” Joe protested, flipping through his car magazine.

“Joe, now.”

“Fine – be ready for torture,” he told himself as he moved back and buckled up.

“Joe smells terrible, Dad,” Francis complained.

“Joe smells terrible,” Linnea giggled and held her nose.

“And she rubbed it on her nose,” Francis added.

“And you rubbed it on your nose,” Linnea went back at him.

Collette never knew what they were talking about, for she had something to add of her own.

“Guys, who put the cup on the mailbox?”

No answer, as she expected.

Meanwhile, finally making it to the wharf-like restaurant with a blue tin roof, they ordered their butterburgers and discussed silly things.

“Yeah, Rose owes me ten dollars,” Joe was saying.

He reached around behind Rose and grabbed her purse.

“You give that back,” Rose yanked it away and bopped him on the head.

Joe laughed.

“Isn’t this the best custard?” Mom was saying from the table behind them. “It tastes just like “Down by the Station” ice cream.”

Collette agreed.

“And I wrote her IOU on my black underwear,” Joe continued.

“You wear black underwear?” OLeif scratched his head.

“Boxers.”

“Oh, whew.”

“But I used a black marker on black underwear.”

Why, exactly, he wrote an IOU on his underwear, Collette never did find out. Meanwhile, Collette and Rose were discussing her future.

“Yes, I definitely can see you in archeology,” Collette smiled, thinking about it again.

“Yeah,” Joe cut in. “She’d probably dig up a volcano.”

“Yeah, she’d find something in the ground. And she’d be like, ‘A rock!’ And then she’d yank it out and…”

“Ka-boom!”

“Volcano!”

Collette laughed hard; she could just see a cartoon in her mind of the whole episode. Rose would make the perfect stick-figure archaeologist.

As they were leaving to go check out the church construction, Mom was telling Collette about how Francis and Linnea were discussing between themselves whether or not pigs were good swimmers. And, that Joe had thought water buffalo was a type of cactus… Also, Francis and Linnea were newly signed up for swimming lessons at the Y, and Linnea would begin piano with Madge Wheels the next morning. Collette could see Linnea as a dynamic piano player one day in the future. She always picked out tunes on her own.

Collette had also been thinking about monasteries that day. She remembered the one in Maine the year before, as the late sunshine crept beyond the hand-laid rock wall, and the shrine and pines, the forest path by the sea… It had been so very peaceful and quiet there. If only she could have stayed to see one of the brothers admitted in a ceremony that night. But they were off to visit another lighthouse in Ogunquit that evening, and for ice cream.

She also thought of foreign monasteries, where one would serve God and read His Words in quiet and peace all one’s days… And yet to be up to date on the world almost seemed essential – nuclear war-heads had been discussed over Sunday’s lunch, for example. There was something strange about not knowing what when on in the world. And yet the quiet, the simple chores (caring for the honey bees, planting flowers, washing the tiles…), the wind during the day and the stars at night, high in the mountains about it all… thinking about God and the life to come and helping one’s fellow man was a mysterious enchantment altogether.

Collette arrived back at home, Monday, in time to begin work with Joe and Rose. But first, Collette dropped in Rose’s room to tell her to put on socks, as Dad’s office was cold.

“Looks nice in here,” Collette told her, watching the cats prowl around the tidy room.

“You like it?” Rose pulled a sweater out of the closet. “Snuggles likes to stay in here when I turn on the music.”

Michael Buble played over her sound system (small DVD player) in front of her papasan chair. Snuggles watched the rainy world outside from his perch on the windowsill as his tail twitched. Next to him sat several shells and a tropical green plant, it’s stems braided over each other, and a small wicker basket and lid. Right outside was Rose’s garden of golden flowers and shells.

But during class, Rose was troublesome as ever, making numerous comments, Joe trying very hard not to laugh the whole way through.

“All sides have the same lengths,” Collette was saying, “they’re equal on all sides.”

“Like a Barbie doll,” Rose muttered, copying the problem from the white board.

Later:

“Now we isolate the B.”

Rose drew a “B” and circled it.

“OK; did that,” she said.

And later still:

“The six types of triangles…”

“You know who likes triangles?” Rose interrupted. “That red monster.”

“Tellie?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Meanwhile, Joe noticed Collette’s Kennebunkport t-shirt.

“Your shirt’s funny, Collette. Kennebunkport, est.”

“Established.”

“Oh,” Joe laughed. “I never knew that. I thought it meant – estimated. That’s awesome. I thought it was so old, they had to estimate it.”

Collette left briefly a short time later to check on the status of lunch while Joe and Rose listened to German.

In her brief absence, Rose was at it again. Joe filled her in later.

“Turn on!” Rose had commanded the radio across the room, and threw her eraser at the unassuming piece of equipment.

“Hey, guys,” she spoke to Joe and apparently anyone else who happened to be around, “this has Internet.”

She pointed to Dad’s unused ancient laptop on the table. She soon heard Collette come back down the stairs.

“Uh-oh.”

She slammed the lid shut.

“Now we isolate pi,” Collette went on.

“Hmmm, pie…” Joe’s eyes went all dreamy.

“I’ll isolate that pi,” Rose was determined. “I’ll isolate the two, too.”

“You mean the three.” Joe corrected her.

“The three was isolated because it had malaria.” Rose decided. “And the four had ‘gingititis’.”

Joe laughed and left to return Snuggles and the phone to Mom while Rose finished the problem.

“Hurry up, Joe,” Collette called after him when Rose completed the equation.

“Yeah, you donut-head.” Rose shouted, predictably.

Indeed, Rose could have said the same of herself that troublesome morning. Collette was unsure of what a donut-head was supposed to be, exactly, but she was sure that whatever it was, Rose was one. She was always coming up with nonsense names like, “pickle juice”, “bing-bong table”, and the like.

Collette was quite flabbergasted by the end of all this, and welcomed lunch. Everyone else sat on the front porch swing (except for Carrie-Bri who was at Six Flags for the day) while Collette studied Chinese inside. After the rain, Mom sat on her bench swing in the backyard.

“See that, that just flew past,” she pointed to a humming insect. “That’s Willie.”

“It’s a wasp?”

“Yup – Willie the Wasp,” Mom chuckled. “I named him Willie. Every time I come out here, he flies around, and sits on this arm of the swing or that arm. But he doesn’t bother me and I don’t bother him.”

Back inside, Joe was busy feeding Vienna sausages to a triangle of hungry kitties down in the basement. And Rose, in her emerald green Hawaii tank-top and autographed visor (as usual), commenced to throw things around in the kitchen in preparation for dinner. It was a typical afternoon.