First Key

This afternoon I met ACJ at The Attic for a couple hours of writing.  I decided to tackle a key scene.  No, not one that's key to the story, a scene about one of the 14 keys on the iron ring that Rose got from the seller's solicitor.  He told her she'd need every one so now I have about eight scenes to write since there are six or seven logical keys--front door, back door, four guest rooms, owner's apartment.  Okay, that's seven, so I have seven keys that need a story told about them, one scene per key.  I figure if I'm diligent those seven scenes just might get me very close to the additional 20,000 words I need.  Just under 900 written today and the scene isn't anywhere near done.

It rained all afternoon.  It sprinkled this morning, kind of like an orchestra tuning up, and then it started to rain about 3 o'clock.  I'm not sure if it's stopped yet but I hear the wind so maybe more is coming.  Wind makes me glad that the city came and removed the dead tree in the front yard last week.  The rain "painted" the new retaining wall, making the colors much brighter.  CG says he thinks they'll get the wall finished by the weekend; it will take longer to get the lawn reseeded but I know he'll get it done, since I won't be paying him the rest of the money until he does.



Oh, this chipmunk is so annoying.  I filled the feeders yesterday and it has spent every possible moment up in the platform feeder stuffing seeds into its cheek pouches and then dashing off to hide them somewhere.  I mixed gopher poison granules into peanut butter in a couple Solo cups this morning and tucked them into the ferns and peonies.  There are just too many of the marauding rodents for me to deal with.

While my supper was heating in the microwave I went into the bathroom.  While washing my hands I looked in the mirror and realized that I only had on one earring.  Rats!  Those are some of my favorite earrings.  I gnashed my teeth and muttered a few cuss words but then I remembered that I thought something fell off the counter into the recycling bag in front of it when I got my plate out so I carefully sorted through it and, voila!, there was my earring.  Minus its back but that's not a problem since the back obviously won't hold the darned thing in my earlobe anyway.  Whew.



After supper I finished knitting the Happy Sad Mouse, got it stuffed and sewn shut, then got busy knitting on all four ears/feet.  See the mouse is reversible, one side has a happy face, the other has a sad face, so the feet on one side are the ears on the other.  Next to pick up stitches on each side for the arms (which go both ways) and embroider the faces and it'll be done.  I think I'll go down a needle size if I make another one; it seems a little big.  But it's nice and squishy and colorful.

12 June--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon.

The next Friday afternoon I was in my studio and my attention was divided.  I tried to focus on painting the last bronze chrysanthemums blooming in the garden.  I could see them through the window, captured in a shaft of sunlight, shining like newly-minted pennies.  But I was also listening for the sound of an approaching vehicle and three special voices.  Finally I heard them.

“Mom? We’re here.”

            “Grandma, where are you?”

            Smiling, I rinsed my brush in clean water and wiped it carefully before leaving the studio, closing the door.

            “Aaron, I’m so glad to see you.”  I hugged my middle son and then his wife.  “Sara, you’re positively glowing.  Three more months, right?”

My daughter-in-law patted her bulging belly and said, “Yep, three more, just after Christmas.  We should have planned better.  Excuse me, I need…”  Sara turned and headed toward the bathroom. 

“And where’s my little David?”  I looked around, pretending not to see the child hopping in front of me.

            “Right here, Grandma.  I’m right here.”

            “This big boy is David?  Aaron, are you sure gypsies didn’t spirit away our little boy?”

            David launched himself into my arms and nearly knocked me over.

            “My, how you’ve grown.”  I shooed them toward the table.  “Sit down, everyone.  I made pies and they’re just begging to be eaten.”  At the counter, I uncovered a cherry pie, handed it to Sara as she reentered the room, and took a chocolate pie out of the refrigerator.  “Aaron, set out some plates please.”

Years of habit die hard.  Aaron’s shoulders drooped just like they had when I’d asked him to do chores when he was a kid.  He went to get plates from the cupboard and was amazed to find cups and glasses instead.

            “Mom, what did you do with the plates?  Isn’t this where they always were?”

            “Yes, they used to be there.  I moved them.”  I opened another cupboard.  “Here they are.  Don’t forget forks.”

            He reached in and pulled down four plates.  “These are new.  When did you get new plates?  What happened to the old ones?”  By the look on his face you’d think I’d sold his favorite pet.

            I hadn’t bargained for resistance to the changes I was making quite so early in our visit.  “Oh for heaven’s sake, Aaron, the old ones were chipped and ugly.  I never liked them, so I bought these.  Now, put them on the table.  I’m sure the pie will taste fine, even on new plates.”

            I cut generous slices for my guests.  “Whipped cream for David.  Anyone else?”  Two more hands were raised.

Everyone sat around the worn maple table, with pie and glasses of cold milk to wash it down, catching up on the news.

            “Sara, do you have the nursery all ready?”

”Aaron just finished painting it a nice minty green.  He wouldn’t let me help.”  She reached to touch her husband’s arm.  “He spoils me.  Says pregnant ladies shouldn’t be around paint fumes.  It was just latex, but he insisted.”

            “Good for you, Aaron.  Don’t want my possible future granddaughter hurt by paint fumes.”

            Sara continued, “I had to call Doctor MacMillan to convince him it wouldn’t hurt the baby if I painted on the ends of the crib and the dresser drawers.  I can’t wait for you to see.  I put little storybook scenes on them.”

            “I’m looking forward to seeing them.  You’ve always been such an artist.  I envy your ability to draw.  How are you feeling?  Are you planning to keep working until the very end?”

“I’m not sure how long I’ll work.  So far I feel fine.”

“That’s great, honey.  Aaron, how’s your business?”

            “A little slow now that school’s started,” he said, scraping up piecrust crumbs with his fork.  “It always picks back up just before the holidays.”

            “I’m amazed that one of my sons sells computers.  They confuse me.  I had a devil of a time with the one at school and was happy to leave it behind when I retired.”

            Aaron leaned toward me with a gleam in his eye, like an evangelist looking for converts, waving his fork in my face.  “Mom, why don’t you let me set you up with a nice, easy system?  I can show you how to use it and then you can get on the Internet.”         

“I’m not sure I’m ready for that level of technology.  I still get confused with the microwave and the VCR.”

He kept talking as if he hadn’t heard me.  “Instead of calling, or writing those long letters you’re so famous for, you could email us.  You could email Aunt Lydie, too.  I get emails from her all the time.”

My feelings were hurt.  “Don’t you like my letters?”

Tomorrow's going to be a busy day--I have a trainer session in the morning, a meeting with the tax accountant in the afternoon, and I get to play with two of my favorite small people after that.  I'm hoping the weather clears up because there's a butterfly house at the botanical garden and I'm hoping they can take me to see it.
--Barbara