You Know It's Coming
The spiders were back.
And by “spiders”, I mean one half-a-big-mama in the empty laundry basket in the basement. Which – I can only presume – fell from the ceiling and had become trapped. And, unlike the other day where I thought I might have improved as a person by not destroying a simple house-keeping spider in Puck’s closet, well yesterday… I wasn’t so generous. I protect my chub-chub at all costs. And anything resembling a black widow or brown recluse simply has to go.
Still makes me always pause to consider whether Jesus ever intentionally crushed a poisonous spider or venomous bug during his 33 years, give or take, in desert lands. Disposed of a deadly snake or vicious animal. King David certainly did his share. And we all accidentally can’t-help-but squash the thousands of tiny living insects and mini things underfoot when walking through the woods or grass.
Some things just can’t be helped.
Makes me consider my conscience though, still.
At ten, Puck snacked from the fruit bowl of fat South African oranges, New Zealand apples, and Guatemalan bananas over some Turkish pop music. Then we read about the Middle Ages and how kids often got married at nine years old. I can’t be the only one who still finds stuff like that pretty amazing. [Not the tying-the-knot in third grade part.]
At fingertips.
So now that I can finally leave the windows open again, I know that my favorite month is close. Just shy. I’m looking forward to it. And not just because of baseball. Woodsmoke, pumpkins, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, apple cider [the good kind from Eckert’s], shocking red and yellow [sometimes orange] forest leaves… And sweaters. Those Korean tunic sweaters that are intended only for pencils. But I wear them anyway. Also, with the windows open, you can help yourself to a healthy dose of highway traffic commotion. The plus side of this is getting a better earshot for the mail truck chugging at hiccup rate down the road. Quicker access to the day’s highlight. After all, the mail bundle is usually the height of mystery one can achieve on any ordinary sort of Tuesday afternoon. Around the time this familiar lurch of small rubber tire skidded past our house, the Bear frantically IM’d me…
“PLEASE DON’T EAT ALL OF THE CHOCOLATE”.
As if he had a good reason not to trust me…
Scoff.
There was nothing interesting in the mail.
In the afternoon we studied the daffy poetic form of William Carlos Williams’ false apology poem – “This is Just to Say”. Puck was interested, although I don’t think he got it.
The Bear had plans to watch “The Adventures of Tin Tin” with Puck – library copy. He wedged down 1.5 grilled cheese and a cold salad before joining our chubster on the couch. As much and as hard as he works, he’s still a dad. And a dad first. Juggle all dad things with full-time career, part-time seminary, and endless side-jobs… He’s one shining knight of an example for the young tot. [We studied Medieval times today.] Plus nothing’s better than watching the shiny eyes and ruffly blonde head of my red footed-pajama-ed son giggling in absolute enrapture with the antics of adventure.
Quote of the Day
“In the nineteenth century there were no wristwatches; White men carried pocket watches. Some Plains Indians said, ‘White man carries his God in his pocket,’ because he never did anything without consulting it!”
– Richard Twiss, One Church Many Tribes