I think that for the next few weeks, I could probably just send you the very same letter each week, and it would be accurate. I would write, “Hello, I’ve been sewing wedding clothes,” and that would be all I needed to write--but, fortunately, the children still say and do entertaining things, so perhaps there will be a slight variation in my letters…
One evening, Keith and Esther came visiting. They are always ever so welcome--but this time they were especially welcome: they brought chocolate chip cookies.
Tuesday we went to Wal-Mart for shoes for several of the kids. Teddy, Hester, and Lydia got school shoes; Hester, Lydia, and Victoria got shoes for Easter--and they will wear them for the wedding, too--that is, they will if they still look nice enough.
I finished Esther Wright's dress--she’s a candlelighter--and am half done with Hester’s. Finally!--a dress where the lining matches up with the outer shell. None of the others did. And then, just as I was starting to see a tiny glimmer of hope that I might be able to complete all the sewing in time for the wedding, Dorcas told me that her female classmates had begun discussing sewing matching dresses for the Spring Program and Graduation Ceremonies. Help!
Tuesday afternoon, Caleb was helping his sisters put dishes into the dishwasher. He picked up a small glass, put it up to his mouth, and sucked on it with all his might and main. And left it there a while. Do you know what that does? It pulls the blood to the surface, and makes dark purple dots all over the skin. He looked absolutely terrible.
What next?
I’ll tell you what next, just one day later:
Guess what? Victoria is now old enough to shave.
That is, she must be; she got out Larry's razor and gave it a good try. She sported a Band-Aid on her nose for a few days (I'm not sure why she thought a person ought to shave his/her nose), along with a few dollops of triple antibiotic on her chin and arm.
When Hester came home from school a little while after the fact, she asked Victoria, "What happened to your nose?"
Victoria looked slightly sheepish. "I was shiveling," she said very quietly.
The girls kept straight faces with difficulty.
 |
| You can just see the owie on the poor little nose.. |
"With Daddy's saw," replied Victoria.
The same day, Caleb was also wearing globs of triple antibiotic on his neck, because he made himself a 'necklace' out of yarn, put it around his neck, and then slid it back and forth vigorously. Guess what that does? Yup. Rope burn. A first-class rope burn.
So off we went to church with a kid who looked like we’d biffed him
in the chops and then tried to hang him; and another kid who either looked like she’d been run over by a hay rake, or perhaps like she’d tried to commit suicide. Good grief!
in the chops and then tried to hang him; and another kid who either looked like she’d been run over by a hay rake, or perhaps like she’d tried to commit suicide. Good grief!
Victoria just put her feet into the boxes--lid and bottom part are the same shape--that her shoes came in, saying, “These fit me pretty well!”--and then she went scuffling off.
Hester was explaining what happened when Caleb opened the refrigerator, and Kitty climbed in, and Caleb couldn’t seem to extract her. “…and Caleb opened the fridge,” explained Hester, and, quicker’n a wink, Victoria added, “--erator!”
Larry and Teddy went to Keith and Esther’s house Thursday night to help Keith move some things from his basement out to his driveway, where they were setting up things for a garage sale. And Esther then sold her first three items--to her father-in-law: a plate of cinnamon rolls, a plate of pecan rolls, and a pie. We at home were polite enough to share them with him when he brought them back.
The kittens are absolute maniacs…and more fun than a barrel of monkeys. They thunder up and down the hallway like total idiots bright and early in the morning when people are still sleeping…arousing one and all. They unearth the noisiest things possible to play with, and thwack them around the room with hearty enthusiasm.
Speaking of spirited gusto, we had some young relatives who once aspired to fly. They went up to the top of their barn, a wheeled sled in tow, to which was affixed a large sheet that they thought had been satisfactorily shaped into a parachute. The barn was very tall. Next to the barn stood a large garage shed, of sorts. Beside the big garage, or whateveritwas, was a chicken coop. These cousins thought that, since from a distance the roof angles all looked to match up perfectly, they would be able to coast grandly down the barn roof, fly majestically onto the garage roof, soar swiftly on down to the chicken coop roof, after which they would land smoothly on the ground. Having reached their maximum velocity, and having a clear shot straight down the hill, they would eventually wind up on the country road, some half-mile away, still zipping along like the wind.
They forgot to reckon gravity into their equations.
When they went from barn roof to garage roof, they hit the edge of the garage roof--hard. And were immediately minus one wheel.
Fortunately for them, they bounced wildly up over the edge, instead of falling to earth. It was long ways down. They roared madly down the garage roof. When they hit the edge of the chicken coop roof, two more tires flew off, and one passenger nearly surrendered his station. By sheer willpower and strength of fingernails, he hung on. The Flying Titanic sailed on.
The sheet, not shaped nearly so much like a parachute as they had thought, was dreadfully derelict in its duty.
ICEBERG RIGHT AHEAD!
Yes, it was definitely “Land, ho!” At the southern perimeter of the chicken coop, there was a horrific crash.
It was some while before children could be distinguished from sled wreckage. But finally, those living extracted themselves from that which had never been, and they staggered wide-eyed to their feet, backed slowly away, and stared at the calamity they'd created.
The parents, finding the mess the next day, never dreamed that the catastrophe had begun so far above their learned pates. And the children turned to less heart-stopping pursuits than Wheeled-Sled Flying.
I just disturbed poor Tiger, who has been sleeping in my lap. Now he's staring at the keyboard, wondering if the keys are something with which he could possibly be playing. Tad actually watches things moving on the computer screen, and also on the video monitor. He once crawled across my keyboard and up onto the main part of the desk, seating himself right at the base of the monitor, turning his fluffy little head this way and that way, as he watched a ball going back and forth across the screen as one of the children played a game.
It rained most of the day Saturday and Sunday. But the daffodils are blooming like anything; cardinals are singing all around the neighborhood; and squirrels are being squirrelly in our buckeye tree. I took quite a few pictures of them one afternoon as they were sitting side by side, tails over their backs, eating buds off the branches. I like squirrels. The trees are turning a misty shade of green, and flowering trees are in bloom all around town. All but our pink dogwood, that is. It insists on looking deader’n a doornail until long after other trees have leafed out--and then it sprouts buds and finally leafs out. But never any flowers. Maybe it’s not a dogwood at all, but a zinniga-zanniga tree, as described in one of Dr. Seuss’ books.
Sunday it was very cold outside, raining and misting. Some parts of the state had snow. The Jr. Choir sang Hosanna to Jesus Our King Sunday morning; and also a group of nine boys, with Teddy singing tenor, sang I’ve a Home Beyond the River. It was really pretty. I especially enjoy groups of men’s voices. Sunday evening I sang ’Neath the Old Olive Trees, a rather nerve-wracking venture, in view of the fact that my voice has not totally recovered.
And now, I’d better close; we are going to Wal-Mart this evening to buy a few necessary items for Easter, and it is time to fix supper.
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