Look out your windows tonight in a nor’easterly way. Nope, that’s not aurora borealis; not this time! I tell you, our house is absolutely glistening. We are causing the night sky to shimmer and shine. This house has just endured a cleaning like it hasn’t had for many a moon. Only the ‘shelf room’ remains in bad enough shape that a rhinoceros and three moose could get lost in it, and a dozen monkeys would never be able to find them. And we plan to steer clear of it, we sho’ ‘nuff do. Even though I spent two full days trying to clean it, my efforts improved less than a third of it, I think. In this room, there are shelves lining three of the walls--hence the name “shelf room”. On these shelves are stacked boxes. Boxes full of outgrown baby clothes. Boxes of clothes Hester and Lydia have outgrown, which are being saved for Victoria. Boxes of clothes Caleb has outgrown which are being saved for a possible garage sale.
From the ceiling in the shelf room are suspended two long rods and one short one, on which hang 3,562,958 dresses, skirts, and blouses…at least, that’s how many there were at last inventory. Well, somehow (we shall not cast any blame…we shall let you deduce raison d'être yourself), a considerable number of those clothes wound up on the floor, along with a plethora of toys from upended boxes that had been on lower shelves. And those clothes that were on the floor all had to be rewashed, for the mice were having a heyday constructing themselves castles, bastions, citadels, and palaces, complete with turrets and cupolas. Ugh, it's awful. I hate mice. Furthermore, many of them were good clothes…not just, as Lydia used to say, ‘home’ clothes.
Once I cleared a decent walkway, so that we might get to the washroom without making like Rocky Mountain goats, I quit with the shelf room and helped Hester and Lydia with their room. Victoria is pleased as punch with all the little Polly Pockets dolls and houses I found and let her play with. Sometimes she spots a dilapidated stuffed animal or a ratty old doll that I’ve tossed in a bag destined for “Garage Sale”.
“Oh, look how cute,” she croons, gently extracting said plaything from the bag. The uglier the doll, the more lovingly she cradles it in her arms. “Poor little thing,” she said softly to one unsightly doll, “doesn’t anybody love you?”
The fact is, it seems, the more offensive the doll, the more sympathy and compassion the hapless thing rates, the reason being that that particular doll needs more sympathy and compassion.
One evening while we were toiling away in the Netherlands of the basement, I sent Hester upstairs to start some vegetables cooking for supper. She trotted up the stairs, put the vegetables into a pan, and then, unbeknownst to me, went back down to her room and forgot all about it. It boiled. And it boiled. And it boiled.
It boiled over.
Caleb, whom I’d sent upstairs on an errand, discovered the Stovetop Pandemonium (it had probably been boiling over for a good long while, by then), and managed to move the pan off the burner and turn the burner off, too. Then he rushed downstairs, pale and out of breath, to tell me of the mishap.
I hastily climbed the stairs to see what sorry state our vegetables were in. Amazingly enough, there was still almost--not quite--an eighth of an inch of water in the bottom of the pan, and the vegetables had been cooked to perfection. Yes, they were just right, absolutely perfect.
We won't talk about the mess on the stovetop.
After supper, Hannah, Victoria, and I went for a walk. Since we weren’t too far from Bobby and Hannah’s house, we went inside to look at the Thomas Kinkade border print and wallpaper they’ve put up. They still needed to put the border print under the cupboards above the counter; that was finished later in the week. The top half of the wall is white; just above the chair rail halfway down is the border print with its beautiful paintings of lovely cottages amongst the flowers, trees, and streams; under that is a chair rail, and below that, forest green marbleized paper. It is so pretty.
One of Bobby’s aunts cleaned my mother’s kitchen for her on Monday, and Tuesday she cleaned the living room and also the small room off the kitchen. Mama is pleased, because my Uncle Bill and Aunt Helen, my Uncle Bob, and my cousin Patty are all coming to Hannah’s wedding, and they will be sure to visit Mama.
Earlier that day, Hannah had an appointment at the Optimetric Center. She asked for our regular eye doctor, Dr. Gray; but he was no longer there, because he had retired. Dr. Hobbs gave her the exam. She likes him. Her contacts have been hurting her eyes something awful, and her glasses are all scratched up. The doctor said the contacts (gas permeable) were hurting her because they get old in a year (and hers are three years old), have protein buildup, and can change shape and then not rest smoothly on the eyeball. Dr. Hobbs dilated her eyes in order to better examine them, making them rather sensitive the rest of the day.
Her eyesight has improved a little since the last time she had a checkup, so her new glasses will not be quite so thick. She ordered both new glasses and new contacts, and was given a discount because of it.
We were told when she was in kindergarten that her eyesight--she was very far-sighted--would continue to improve until she was in her late teens. It has done just that. The doctors said the same about Joseph, and it has proven true in his case, too.
As the week advanced, so did the pile of trash out by the alley, until it looked as if it would totally fill the garbage truck, all by itself. I wondered, would the garbage men take it all?
They did.
One time, after a heavy-duty house cleaning, I watched out my bedroom window as the garbage truck came down the alley and stopped. The man started to open his door…and then his activities came to a stop and he stared at all that garbage. Bags and bags of junk, and enough boxes to run the bags a close race. He collected himself and slowly exited his truck. He walked around to the back of the truck and peered in. He looked at his fellow worker, and then together they picked up first one bag and then another, and one box after the other.
It all fit--but just barely. As soon as they were through, they went rumbling out of the alley and headed off for the city compactor; there was no room in their truck for anyone else’s garbage. We had a debate that evening concerning whether or not the landfill would now be full, and must now relocate.
As I was typing Monday evening, it was getting windier…we were in a severe thunderstorm warning, and were told that we should expect high winds and hail. And then it occurred to me: whatever would happen to all the boxes and bags of garbage out back??!! Oh, brother. Help, and bother.
I have decided that the very same principles that apply when one has just washed one’s car--that is, it will immediately rain mud, the instant the car is spotless--also apply when one has put a truckload of garbage outside to await the garbage men: before they arrive, an unexpected Herculean storm cell will push through, concentrating specifically on that area of the alley where the most garbage was placed. It will scatter whatever it can, and on the rest it will pour down a deluge, making heavily-laden boxes sodden enough that just as soon as the garbage men get them picked up and suspended over their pitiful pates, on the verge of tossing them into the back of their truck, the bottoms will give way and all the disagreeable contents of said box will shower down upon the wretched souls.
Anyway, I was glad the Suburban and Hannah’s car were both in the garage. It is quite a waste to have a nice garage so full of junk that one cannot park one's cars in it, don’t you agree? Ours is a three-car garage…but for a long time, there was only room for one. Now there is room for two…and who knows? By the time the garage cleaning is over, there just might be room for three!
There was a girl working at All About Kids, the daycare center, with whom Hannah had gone to school. Tuesday she was fired. This, because a couple of days earlier she brought a bunch of frogs in a large jar to show the kids…the manager frowned a bit on this, and suggested she not do it again. So Monday she brought a snake. It was her very own pet. The ladies told the girl to put the snake away; she should not have brought it. But she did not put it away immediately, and she soon had it back out on the playground, showing it to the children and letting them touch it. She was promptly fired.
Another lady regularly arrives fifteen or twenty minutes late, in spite of the fact that they have been asked to arrive ten to fifteen minutes early. One day she told Dorcas she was late because she had to do her daughter’s wash, because her grandchildren had no clean clothes to wear. From other things she has said, it sounds as if she really needs her job; but if she isn’t more prompt, she’s liable to lose it.
Tuesday, after I'd washed so many clothes that the couch was piled a foot above the backrest, from one end to the other (I hadn't gotten them folded yet), Lawrence and Norma came visiting, bringing cookies. Norma had made the cutest red check jumpers with border patterns of strawberries and leaves for Hester and Lydia’s birthdays. There are white T-shirts to go with them, and strawberries are appliquéd at the neckline. Hester and Lydia will wear the jumpers for the Fourth-of-July picnic.
Norma helped us fold and sort clothes, and before long we got it all done...well, at least the clothes on the couch were done. But there were three or four times more clothes than that, still downstairs, waiting to be washed. By the next morning, the couch was just as full as it had been the night before.
Meanwhile, Larry, with help from Teddy, painted the stairwell and the hallway downstairs. It is now Satin White, after being blue for years and years. Did you know you can better see to put one foot in front of the other when a stairwell is Satin White, as compared to Dusty Blue? Furthermore, you can better see whether or not the steps are clean or dirty.
We got out the vacuum.
Not wanting to take time off from the cleaning and the painting to make supper, and because tacos are fifty cents a piece on Tuesdays, we sent Teddy off for tacos. After eating, Teddy finished some of the upper stairwell. And then he got sick. He didn’t think the paint caused it; but when Larry did the top edges of the stairwell, he said it was terribly hot up there--and the paint smelt strongly--because of the 300-watt light bulb he’d put in, the better to see what they were doing.
He took a nap, and then he felt better. Teddy is the best one of the children to get with a job, and work at it till it’s completed. He has been no end of help these last couple of weeks.
He’s also a good one to send to the store--although he has trouble knowing just what I mean when I write, “8 fancy round”.
“I got everything but the eight fancy round,” he informed me breezily as he came in the door.
“Huh?” I replied intelligently, in the way of preoccupied mothers everywhere.
(I forgot to write the last word: bulbs.)
Teddy and Dorcas do not shop alike: if I tell Dorcas, “Get some detergent,” she’ll get the smallest, cheapest jug of detergent in the store, regardless of the fact that there is a mound of clothes to be washed equivalent to the Empire State Building in height, and not remembering that the last time I got that particular detergent, I showed everyone the jug and said, “This stuff stinks, and it makes things dirtier instead of cleaner. Don’t buy it again.”
Teddy on the other hand, having been told to buy paper towels, bought an eight-roll pack. If I tell him to buy cereal, he buys three big bags. With this family, Teddy’s way certainly makes more sense; but he had absolutely no change left to return to my wallet--in fact, I had to give him six dollars to replace the money he used from his own wallet.
One of the little girls at All About Kids has head lice. Furthermore, she likes Dorcas, and wants to be right by her. Dorcas tries her best to stay far away… Tuesday when Dorcas came home, she said that whatever good behavior the children were on Monday, they’d made up for Tuesday; a whole lot of them were absolutely horrendous. One boy even punched one of the ladies. A five-year-old threw a tantrum, lying on the floor screaming and wailing, and kicking his feet on the wall. Good grief. No, Dorcas is not accustomed to such as that. Nevertheless, she handles it well.
Sometimes, when the ladies try to give a child a reprimand, the child runs away…and the ladies let him go. This, Dorcas does not like. She was telling a child not to do something the other day, when he scowled and went dashing off--but Dorcas dashed off after him, caught him by the arm, turned him around, frowned straight into his face, and said, “Don’t run away when I’m talking to you.”
His eyes got very large, and he nodded and answered, “Okay!”
A one-year-old was standing on the toys, the better to look out the window. One of the Rules and Regulations is that they not stand on the toys. Another lady had gotten him off the toys several times and ‘distracted’ him--as they have so nicely been taught--elsewhere. He was not to be distracted. He consistently returned to the window.
Dorcas said to the little boy, “Oh, get down, you mustn’t stand on the toys; you’ll break them!” and she reached for his hand and helped him down.
He came down willingly--and then the other lady said disapprovingly to Dorcas, “He’s too young to understand that.”
Dorcas disagreed. “No, he isn’t; and the sooner they are taught these things, the better. He knows exactly what I mean.”
“Hmmph,” said the other lady, pursing her lips at Dorcas’ stupidity.
Guess what. The little boy did not climb on the toys again, not one more time. Furthermore, he decided he especially liked Dorcas, and followed her around for a bit, smiling shyly at her whenever she looked at him.
One afternoon Hannah gave Tad a bath, and Teddy gave Kitty a bath, because we suspected they had fleas. Both of them (the kids, that is, not the kats) sport battle wounds, where the cats tried catching hold of something, the better to help themselves depart the sink. Actually, they were both quite polite about it all, for the most part (the kats, that is, not the kids), although they did state mournfully, “MmmMMrrRRRrrrOOO-ooooWW!!” a few times.
While cleaning out the kitchen cupboards, somebody unearthed a bottle of green food coloring. Next thing we knew, Hannah had fixed us green Farina for breakfast. And it wasn’t long before a gallon of distilled water looked more like lime Gatorade than anything else, compliments of Joseph. Gaaaaak. Bleah.
On with the cleaning. (You do like blow-by-blow accounts of house-cleaning, don’t you? I thought so. Therefore, I shall proceed.) Wednesday, I polished light fixtures, chandeliers, rain lamps, and ceiling fans. At 5:00 p.m., I was just putting some clothes into the wash machine when Caleb came dashing around the corner, pale as a ghost, eyes as big as saucers, telling me, “Joseph just cut his finger really bad, and he has to have stitches!”
He was having a bit of trouble with asthma, and when he gets excited or upset, he not only talks while breathing out, but also while breathing in. So I could not be sure just exactly what he said: Did Joseph cut his hand off? His head? His foot? Was he lying somewhere, even now, bleeding to death? I left the wash to Hannah and went up the steps at a gallop.
I found Joseph in the kitchen, holding a paper towel tightly on his little finger. I took a look. Yes; he needed stitches; it was quite a deep cut, and about an inch long, all the way around his finger at the base. I stuck my feet into my sandals, grabbed my purse, and we jumped into the Suburban and drove to the hospital. If the cut would have been in a conspicuous place, or if it had’ve been a longer cut, I would have headed for David City and our favorite Dr. Luckey; but I didn’t want to drive that far just before church if I didn’t have to, so I decided Columbus Hospital would do.
A doctor put three stitches in his finger, and a nurse gave him a tetanus shot. We were soon ready to go home again.
Wednesday night after church, we once again signed the Important Yellow Papers for the state, telling which children of ours will be attending our church school. I helpfully filled Larry’s out for him, as I usually do. After all, if he cannot remember his children’s middle names, how on earth would he ever remember their birth dates??
And then, as usual, I accidentally signed his name for him. That is, I signed my name where his should have been. Aarrgghh! I think I have done that every single year, without fail, ever since the school began. The first few times, the secretary typed up a whole new Important Yellow Paper. But nowadays she simply has Larry sign his name over the top of mine. My sister, our principal, said she could just write next to the mess, “His stupid wife did it again.”
When we came home from church, we were starved, and the cupboards were mimicking Mother Hubbard’s, so Larry and Joseph went to Hardee’s and got us ‘hangleburgers’ (as Keith used to say, when he was two). Starvation is not the only reason these excursions are made; partly it is because Joseph has a learner’s permit. And learner’s permits require driving practice, don’t you know.
Larry also got a fish filet sandwich--on the sly, so that all the hungry urchins wouldn’t notice and want one of the expensive things, too--and shared it with me. It would have been ever so scrumptious, if they would only get rid of those soggy white buns and use toasted English sourdough muffins, instead.
When Bobby brought Hannah and Dorcas home, they noticed what we’d eaten--and their appetites were aroused. About 1:30 a.m., the girls could bear it no longer. They went to Ampride and got themselves a snack. Hannah took some grilled chicken out of the rotisserie.
The lady at the checkout stand said, “Ma’am, I don’t think that chicken is good.”
“What’s wrong with it?” asked Hannah.
“It was made at 9:00,” replied the lady.
“Oh, I think it will be all right,” said Hannah, sniffing at it. She took the chicken. So the lady didn’t charge the girls for it; they got it free.
“And don’t sue us, if you get sick!” the lady implored.
Hannah laughed. She also got Snickers Sundae cones, paying only $1.39 for their snack. The girls had Tad with them (Dorcas stayed in the car with him), which always stirs interest, everywhere they go. Funny little cat; he likes to ride in cars. He is a striking kitten, with his beautiful black and charcoal markings, and the little bits of white tufts on his ears and chin. He looks like a baby lynx. We sure do like that kitten!
Teddy split wood all morning Thursday. The back drive is now navigable all the way to the third garage door, imagine that.
The Schwan man came and I bought $235 worth of groceries, hoping to have some left by next week, when our company would arrive. We ordered Hannah’s ice cream cups. Half of them will be plain vanilla, and the rest will have colored ‘confetti’ candy on top. Nobody has ever had that before. Won’t they be surprised?!
That evening, Larry put up new curtain rods, and hung the new lace sheers we got at Wal-Mart. The old ones were a whole lot lacier than they had been when we bought them…it was long past time for new sheers. I’d patched up the holes many times…but sewing holes together is a tricky piece of work. It’s a jolly good thing we didn’t get new curtains last Christmas, when I was planning to (until we ran out of money) (presents come first, you see), because those silly kittens thought the sheers were ladders. But now Kitty and Tad have pursuits other than climbing curtains, so perhaps the new sheers will remain intact.
We also bought a new vacuum--a Hoover--at Wal-Mart, and the kids thought it was so nifty, they were soon vacuuming their rooms with vigor. (I wonder why they didn’t act like that when I bought that new mop?) We also got new pillows, sheets, and a blanket for Hannah and Dorcas’ bed, in which Jennifer and Sarah will sleep. The sheets and blanket are part of Dorcas’ birthday present.
While Larry hung curtains, I toiled away at the task of Sock Sorting. Honestly, we must own three million socks apiece. Unfortunately, none of them have mates. Perhaps we shall donate them to the Goodwill for the benefit of one-legged people or those who prefer to wear unmatched socks, so as not to be a Conformist.
Friday, the Optimetric Center called to inform Hannah that her new glasses were in. Victoria wanted to go with her to get them, so I helped her put her sandals on.
“There!” she said exuberantly when I finished, bounding to her feet. “I’m ready! Oh, I’m not ready,” she said, all in the same breath.
She bounced up and down a couple of times, and then hopped over to the little table, where she snatched up a small page of stickers. Removing a round one with an underwater turtle pictured on it, she carefully stuck it to her shoulder, then whacked it a couple of times for good measure.
“Okay! Now I’m ready!” she announced.
I got blue paint for Teddy to paint his room. He doesn’t like it; it’s too light to suit him. I should’ve taken him along to pick it out. Near as I can tell, from his description, he wanted indigo, or maybe midnight blue. But he likes it better, the more he looks at it. Maybe, before long, it’ll be just right…
Sure enough, the kids got into the Raspberry Rumble ice cream that was supposed to be saved for next week. And they gobbled down the Sundae cones, too. Ah, well; they do have to eat…
My mother is stewing and fretting about everything under the sun. You’d think she was putting on the wedding, singlehandedly. Do we have the turkeys? The bread? The cake mix? We don’t?? Oh, noooo. Whatever will we do??? Good grief. Do I have the dresses all done? Yes, except for the appliqués for Victoria’s dress. Oh, don’t put them on! She can wear it that way!!! Do we have the nuts? The Jordan almonds? The mayonnaise? How will we ever get ready in time??!
By Saturday, I was done washing clothes, and had progressed to the bedding. We all slept late that morning, since we’d gone to bed so late. While we slept, three cakes walked in and sat themselves down on the counter. Bland, plain little chocolate cakes were they, with a few unrecognizable fruit-like substances swimming valiantly through one. We valiantly ate them, and when I found out from whence they had come (I guessed right), I valiantly thanked my generous friend, who, in spite of being ever so busy with her own work, spends many hours making all sorts of things for others.
"And don’t you dare repeat that business about 'bland little cakes'", I ordered the kids. There is something to be said for “bland little cakes”--for one thing, they don’t give a person ulcers. For another, a person is not so likely to overindulge.
"And don’t you dare repeat that business about 'bland little cakes'", I ordered the kids. There is something to be said for “bland little cakes”--for one thing, they don’t give a person ulcers. For another, a person is not so likely to overindulge.
Where did these five million and one socks come from?? Larry has three drawers chock full--of socks. Teddy has three drawers teeming--with socks. Two of Joseph’s drawers are crammed to the top--with socks; and a couple of Caleb’s are jam-packed--with socks. And the rocking chair was piled high--with socks. Mated socks. So, once again, I went off to Wal-Mart to get another big bin (not to be confused with Big Ben) to put socks in. And what shall I do with the socks that have no mates? Some are nearly new, and their mates are doubtless searching high and low for them, mourning greatly, even as I type.
* * *
Okay, The Socks have been fought with, and The Socks won, and have marched off triumphantly to celebrate at an unknown location. I moved on to the dusting.
Hannah finally got her pre-bridal pictures back Saturday evening. Our photographer sends his pictures to Phoenix to have them reprinted and enlarged, so they will not be back by next Sunday unless Hannah pays an extra $26 to ‘Overnight Express’ it. So it will cost about $80, all together. Isn’t that awful?
Larry has another abscessed tooth. Since he has had so many root canals, and has no nerves in so many of his teeth, he does not know a tooth is abscessed until the infection gets into the gum or sometimes even into the bone. And by then, he is in a bad way. It was really hurting him Saturday evening, so we tried his regular dentist. No answer. We left a message on his answering machine. We then tried the doctor we have switched to for the children. Same story, second verse. I tried our family doctor. He wasn’t home. I called the David City Hospital and asked for the doctor on call. Finally! I actually spoke to a real, live person.
She called in a prescription to Walgreens for Larry. A few minutes later, Dorcas went off to get it. Walgreens closes at 8:00 p.m. on Saturday nights, and she had only just enough time…but she didn’t, after all, because the pharmacy closes at 6:00 p.m. on Saturdays. So I called a pharmacist we’ve known for many years, who in turn called the doctor; and then I met him at Tooley Drug at a quarter till nine. He filled a prescription for amoxicillan and hydrocodone, a strong painkiller, and was ever so nice.
The painkillers didn’t help much for quite a while, because the infection had gotten so bad. The tooth that is causing the trouble is either a back molar or a wisdom tooth on his ‘good’ side--the side he chews with all the time. He has an appointment with the children's dentist--the only dentist who returned our call--Wednesday morning.
He is also in bad need of a haircut (speaking of Larry; not the dentist), but his barber retired, and he can’t seem to get himself an appointment at any of the other places--that’s because, you see, you have to get an appointment in advance. One of the reasons he liked the old barber so well was because he could walk in, wait his turn, and get a haircut.
Sunday morning Larry managed to go to Sunday School, but before Sunday School was over, he was leaning forward holding his jaw, and he didn’t go to church again the rest of the day. Keith and Esther, and Bobby, came for dinner--the last Sunday dinner for Bobby and Hannah, unmarried!
For Father’s Day, Joseph gave Larry a big flashlight with an adjustable beam. Keith and Esther gave him channel-lock pliers and a hacksaw, and the other children gave him various tools and gadgets and, what he likes best of all, handmade cards. Dorcas’ card had pressed flowers glued to the front. Just as she did for me on Mother’s Day, Victoria cut strange geometrical designs for him from paper.
“Look!” she exclaimed, “I made you a tyrangle!” She frowned. “No, I didn’t. That’s not what it is.” She studied the figure a moment, and then brightened. “I know what it is!” She grinned at her father triumphantly. “It’s a triangle!”
Sarah McDonald called at about 10:00 p.m. from Ironwood, Michigan, where she and Jennifer were spending the night. They said they’d be leaving Ironwood at 6:00 a.m. Monday morning, and would arrive at our house about suppertime. We thought that was a little too optimistic, that it was farther than they expected…
Monday morning I washed the last load of clothes…the kitchen curtains. Ahhh…what a satisfying feeling, to have every last stitch of dirty laundry all washed. I heard the dryer buzz…I went downstairs to retrieve the curtains…and there I found that the native populace had shed their skins in heaps and piles, and deposited it all into the nicely emptied hamper. Oh, the audacity. The nerve.
I wonder what would happen if, during this week, I simply took the hamper out to the back-alley rubbish receptacle and upended it, each time I found that it was getting full?
This afternoon I went to Super Saver, where I filled a cart with empty boxes. Victoria was riding in the seat of the cart, and when we got outside, the wind kept blowing a couple of boxes over the top of her head, no matter how I hung onto them. She wrinkled her nose and giggled.
Jennifer McDonald called at 7:00 p.m.; they were in Blair, Nebraska. We were glad to learn that they had not missed that exit, anyway…it’s an easy one to miss. I have driven straight past Blair and right on into Omaha several times, making my trip a good half-hour longer than it would otherwise have been.
And now, as I type, we are awaiting their arrival…Norma brought a huge pan of lasagna, several packages of lettuce salad and tomatoes, and a big bowl of cookies. The lasagna has now been baked, and is piping hot. The best china and crystal are on the table, and there are little bowls at each place with peaches with maraschino cherries in them.
My mother just called again; I think she’s spent the last two weeks fussing and fussing…do we have the nuts? Do we have the turkey. Oh, no; what are we going to do if the turkeys don’t come? Do we have the bread? Do we have the mayonnaise. Do we have the nut cups done? Don’t even bother doing them! You don’t have time! Do you have the sewing done? Don’t even sew those appliqués on! The dress is fine without them. Did you get the cake mix? Did you get the punch. AAAAaaaaaa!!!!
Along about 6:30 p.m., when the rest of us were dragging around rubbing our backs, Caleb grinned happily and said in his cheery voice, “Isn’t this fun?” He gave a little skip. “I’m having lots of fun!” He gave another swipe at one of the chairs he was cleaning. “When we clean house, I can really see myself!”
Several people looked at him blankly--and then I figured it out: he was looking at the shiny metal chair leg he was scrubbing, and there in front of him was his very own reflection, clear as day.
Tonight while I was typing this letter, the lightning was flashing, and the thunder was rumbling. There was a loud CCCCcccRRRRRAAACCCKKKkkk!…a blinding flash…and all the lights went out.
Caleb had just finished his bath, and was making his way down the stairs. “Hey!!” he howled. “I don’t know where I am!!!”
I poked my head around the dark corner. “You’re in Columbus,” I told him helpfully.
“I mean, ‘I can’t see,’ he repeated in a reproachful tone.
Hester, down at the bottom of the stairs, went into peals of laughter. After a few seconds, the lights came back on, and Caleb was able to continue without calamity.
The warning tone on the scanner sounded. The dispatcher informed everyone, “We are in a severe thunderstorm warning until 1:00 a.m., and a tornado is on the ground at Humphrey (twenty miles to our north), moving southeast at 35 miles per hour.”
That meant it was coming toward us--and directly toward the route the McDonald girls would be driving…would they arrive safely? We took turns peering anxiously out the window…
And you shall have to wait until next week to learn the outcome!
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