This crazy weather has kept the New Guinea Impatiens blooming. Aren't they a lovely color?
Therefore I had one of those days. A day when I was just barely motivated, barely moved, barely thought. *double sigh* I really dislike days like that. For most of the day I thought that maybe maybe I had been successful in ridding my yard of THE RAT. But there it was at dusk zooming out to the lawn to see if there was anything out there to eat and then dashing back to the house. Tomorrow I'm moving all of the grill parts and trash cans away from the house, removing a lot of hiding places, and putting out the next couple of poison pellet stuffed weenies. Honestly. Die already.
First I finished LC's second mitten I hope she likes them. I don't think I'm going to sew on an owl button since the stripes are so vivid and busy. I'll unearth some solid color wool to knit mittens with owl buttons on them.
30 September--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon.
It always took
Sam a while to get used to the hubbub of all the grand-children in one place,
but it was harder on Merry. She held
herself aloof for a while, even from the adults, until she felt comfortable. As the only child of an eternally
dissatisfied and chronic complainer of a mother, Merry needed to take her time
in our noisy family get-togethers. But
soon enough she was on the floor building Legos with the littlest ones. She and Matt's eldest, Jim, got along the
best. Jim was a serious boy, more
interested in reading than racing around with his brothers and cousin, so he
and Merry were more alike. They took
walks around the place talking and talking about who knows what.
Lisa and Sara
always spent the first part of any visit comparing Mom-stories. Since Merry and Sam didn't have kids, and
probably wouldn't, she had nothing to contribute to those discussions.
It took a while
for Merry to shed her big-city sophisticate air, too. But by bedtime of the first night she was
back to the Merry we all knew. I think
the other daughters-in-law were a bit intimidated by her stylish dress, her
expensive haircut, and her name-dropping of places and people they'd only read
about or seen in movies. But the three
girls managed to find some common ground, even if it was just comparing notes
about how alike, and annoying, their husbands were.
The
next day Merry, Sara, Lisa and I sat on the porch watching the kids play
hide-and-seek in the orchard. After a
while, I went into the kitchen to put on a pot of tea. The weak afternoon sun struck rainbows from
the cut glass bowl of stem-less daffodils my littlest grandsons had picked for
me that morning. I opened the bag of
loose tea and breathed in the scent of spices and orange peel. As the kettle on the stove started to grumble
and thump, I pulled out Mom’s old Brown Betty teapot and four mismatched mugs.
Sam
had come in right behind me for a quick trip to the bathroom, he said. When he came out, I turned around to see all
three of my sons lounging around the room.
Aaron leaned on the fridge, Matt was in his childhood place at the
table, and Sam stood at the sink.
“Oh,
you startled me,” I said. “It won’t take
all of you to help carry out the tea tray.”
One
of those looks flashed among them and I knew they hadn’t just happened to all
show up there accidentally. I turned to
face them, hands on hips. It was the
pose I had used for years to scare the truth out of them. “Okay, what’s going on?”
Sam
had evidently been elected speaker. He
folded his arms across his chest and glared at me the way I had seen him glare
at a defendant. “Mother,” he said, “are
you sleeping with Abel Baker? And what
are his intentions?”
“Oh,
for the love of God,” I said, with a laugh.
“Is that what brought you all in here?”
“Just
answer the question.”
“Don’t
pull that lawyer crap with me, Samuel.
Remember who you’re talking to.”
Sam
didn’t change his expression or his stance.
“Are you sleeping with Abel Baker?”
“What
makes you ask?” I said, playing for time.
Matt
pulled a paper bag off his lap and said, “Mike and Luke were looking for games;
they found this in the cupboard under the stairs.”
“So? What makes you think it’s not left over from
when Dad was alive?”
Sam
leaned over, picked up the razor, and brandished it in my face. “Because it’s one of those new ones with
three blades. Three-bladed razors
weren’t invented when Dad died.”
I
was suddenly so angry, I couldn’t see straight.
“Okay, yes, it’s Abel’s razor and, yes, I’m sleeping with him.” I turned to face my accuser. “Are you happy now, Mr. Lawyer?”
Aaron
spoke for the first time. “Why didn’t
you tell us, Mom?”
I
whirled on him. “Do any of you call me
when you and your wife have sex? Did you
ask my permission before you did it the first time?”
Aaron
and Matt looked at their shoes and mumbled, “No.” Sam remained silent.
“It’s
none of your business if I’m sleeping with Abel, if I’m having sex with him, or
whatever I choose to do with him. Or
anyone else, for that matter.”
Sam
finally spoke. “We want to make sure
you’re safe, Mom. That’s all. We don’t want some gigolo scamming you out of
your savings or talking you into selling Dad’s farm.”
I
rounded on him. “Have you met
Abel Baker? He’s a well-to-do, cultured,
retired gentleman who has plenty of his own money and thinks I’m pretty
terrific. I have fun spending time with
him no matter what we’re doing, and he usually pays, even if I try to argue him
out of it.” I stepped closer so we were
nearly nose-to-nose. “And it’s my
farm. We used my dowry for the down
payment when we bought the place, and my salary paid it off.” I held Sam’s gaze, not blinking, not looking away.
I have high hopes that I'll have more oomph tomorrow. It's supposed to hit the mid-70s and rain so I'll head to the Y to walk on a treadmill. I guess.
--Barbara
1 comment:
Those boys of Gail's!!! Best of intentions but time to let Mom have a life of her own. We know they'll accept Abel in time. The mittens turned out perfect but your crazy temps make time for wearing them seem a long way off.
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