tethered cow to polished bone
June 30, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | Leave a Comment
the ants in the kitchen are out of control. more than three or four is more than i can tolerate. and we’ve more than three or four. many more.
henry and ernie watched a documentary on african driver ants. henry calls to me to tell me that the killer ants are in the kitchen again. they won’t eat peeps (that should tell you something), vegetables, rice, beans, grains. they will eat meat, cheese, ice cream, chocolate syrup, fruit.
obsessive, i check to see if they’re entering and feeding in the traps we set for them today. “we put out ant controllers,” henry reports, after i tell him we were using the traps to “get this ant situation under control.” he remembers every detail of the way the scene will go down. “the ants go in, they eat the poison, and then they go to their houses and they die!” he tells ernie excitedly. he sits in a chair in the corner and watches obsessively, too, while i do the dishes and zip food into ant resistant plastic.
the ants will crawl away to die, or so promises the package. mostly, i don’t care what they do when they crawl away. i’m weary of jude’s stomping on them and picking up the microscopic squish and smearing it around on another surfaces, of henry letting them crawl on his arm and calling them his “pets” (do we need a dog?). they sound so much better in story and song. perhaps i mostly find myself annoyed that they are more industrious in my kitchen than i seem to be, as they can always seem to find something (that i should have put away) to eat and carry back to their storage facility.
living is easy
June 29, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | Leave a Comment
the dog across the street goes hoarse for the barking. he’s a white dog with black markings. he lunges at us as we walk down the sidewalk. for a long time jude would jump, scream, climb the ladder of my ribs, as we walked near the thing.
boys with skateboards yell at the dog as they saunter in uniform to the park, swinging the hair out of their faces in the cool way all generations of skateboarders have been known to do.
the dog’s owners are the girls who jump, capricious, frenzied, on a large and clearly unsafe trampoline. one jump too hard, lawless, and they could launch the lighter of the group onto the busy street, into the way of the traffic that surges over the hill with a launch and a screech on their way from the college, to the college.
the mother of the dog, of the girls, of one or two of them, is now mowing the grass in the cool of the evening. walking at a steady pace in white socks and shoes she makes her way up and down the long stretch of terrace that belongs to her yard. the dog is still barking. perhaps she’ll take him for a walk down her street so that her dog can poop on the sidewalk and pee on every flower from here to the library. she does not carry a scoop and a little bag.
henry climbs the one tree in the yard with low branches. he climbs so that his head is nearly even with the second floor windows. he leans against the trunk and is casual, waving down to me so that i notice his one handed perching.
jude sleeps without a pillow, stretching the pinks of his toes across the middle of the bed. the blue of the room has only a strand of blanket, the fans whirl around with a mutter. later, when i come to bed, he will have kicked off the covers and will be cool to the touch.
after eight, the peculiar placement of sun beam and gaze still shines a bulb into the kitchen at an angle i’ve not noticed before, the exact science of seeing the sun in precisely that location ever before or yet again remains a mystery to me as i sweep across the kitchen floor and double check the overhead light’s switch.
you’re gonna rise up singing . . .
“for many a year his regular custom . . .”
June 28, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | 1 Comment
the local farmer’s market tossed a cabbage through the air thus commencing a summer of local produce available for purchase in the haze of saturday mornings. the amish girls sold bread and candy. a horrific van with peeling headliner and spring-exposed seats backed up to the sidewalk and arranged jars of honey on a card table. the man who sold us these delicious onions and cute round zucchini was freshly showered and shaved and was dapper in a pin-striped shirt. his wife, who most assuredly pin-curls, measured out the snap peas by the handful, which held sweet surprises for henry and jude when they realized that pods hold peas.
at the table next to theirs, in stark contrast, sat a shining, kneesocked, unshowered man in a rocking lawn chair. the fist sized crucifix he wore hung, swung over his fantastic vintage sparkling western shirt. one can only hope to be at goodwill the day his closet is donated in a box. he wore a cowboy hat and the air held a cloud of his exhale as he lit another bent cigarette pulled from his front pocket.
soon there will be tomatoes and sweet corn to buy from the ancient people who park their truck in the tall, itchy grass across from the bowling alley every day of the week. the man will snap unintelligibly at the tan and wrinkled woman, who is in unfortunate need of support beneath her threadbare t-shirt. he will smoke a cigar and will talk about their early morning start at 3:30 a.m. we will come home and, after shucking and boiling and slicing we will salt and pepper and butter and will require many napkins. later, ernie will be sure to wash his beard and we will all floss before bed.
the last of afternoons, the evening hours, for many a year his regular custom, in his great arm chair by the window seated . . .
“for many a year his regular custom . . .”
June 28, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | Leave a Comment
the local farmer’s market tossed a cabbage through the air thus commencing a summer of local produce available for purchase in the haze of saturday mornings. the amish girls sold bread and candy. a horrific van with peeling headliner and spring-exposed seats backed up to the sidewalk and arranged jars of honey on a card table. the man who sold us these delicious onions and cute round zucchini was freshly showered and shaved and was dapper in a pin-striped shirt. his wife, who most assuredly pin-curls, measured out the snap peas by the handful, which held sweet surprises for henry and jude when they realized that pods hold peas.
at the table next to theirs, in stark contrast, sat a shining, kneesocked, unshowered man in a rocking lawn chair. the fist sized crucifix he wore hung, swung over his fantastic vintage sparkling western shirt. one can only hope to be at goodwill the day his closet is donated in a box. he wore a cowboy hat and the air held a cloud of his exhale as he lit another bent cigarette pulled from his front pocket.
soon there will be tomatoes and sweet corn to buy from the ancient people who park their truck in the tall, itchy grass across from the bowling alley every day of the week. the man will snap unintelligibly at the tan and wrinkled woman, who is in unfortunate need of support beneath her threadbare t-shirt. he will smoke a cigar and will talk about their early morning start at 3:30 a.m. we will come home and, after shucking and boiling and slicing we will salt and pepper and butter and will require many napkins. later, ernie will be sure to wash his beard and we will all floss before bed.
the last of afternoons, the evening hours, for many a year his regular custom, in his great arm chair by the window seated . . .
mica, mica, parva stella
June 27, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | Leave a Comment
the trash on our street is gone! ernie and henry could barely get it to the roadside before things were snatched out of their hands and thrown into trunks and backseats. a neighboring family has three tvs in their trash. this morning someone took a soggy recliner from the pile. what does one do with a soggy recliner?
great grandmama celebrated her 84th birthday over the weekend. she walked away with a stack of books and an extremely large piece of cake lodged in her stomach. ernie and i were admiring her lazy afternoon lifestyle. “wouldn’t it be nice to sit in a chair and read all day, every day, for years on end?” we pontificated. yes, it would.
saturday night ernie and i went on a date (!),which we hadn’t done for several months. on which we meandered through two bookstores without ever entering the childrens’ sections. we ate a most delicious dinner. we drank coffee as we meandered, meaning that no one was wanting sips (jude) and no one was needing mama’s hands for help or eyes for reading (both henry and jude). it was also nice to enjoy the ride to and from with the uninterrupted conversation. by the end of the night i was missing my boys, though, who were catching fireflies with grandpa and snoozing on the couch.
she wears a plastic crown like cinderella
June 23, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | Leave a Comment
the entire city looks like this:
they call it “gabby days.” they use the word “terrace” instead of “curb” to make it seem better.
three nights ago ernie and i hoisted the dead refrigerator onto the dolly and ernie wheeled her to the terrace. we carried the drawers and other miscellaneous parts and threw them in a pile. “i hope someone takes it,” ernie says. we don’t want a dead patch of grass. we don’t want the thing glaring at us each time we pull into the drive.
within four hours there was a pick-up truck with shirtless men (no protection from rusty metal scraps that they were manhandling and tossing onto the heap!) on top of, inside of, oustide of, tying the old girl onto the truck and pile. she was certainly the prize find on a moonlit metal salvage hunt. as they drove away she waved at us with a cupped hand, a smile on her bronzed face.
to the quick
June 22, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | Leave a Comment
as my camera was on the blink during the first cutting of hair i had no photos of the event. but ernie took pictures and, though this post is much belated (june 10), here they are:
jude was most traumatized by the whole thing. i think he was scared that we were cutting pieces of henry off of his body. “oh, no! henry!” he kept saying.
i didn’t cry about it but every time i look at him i feel a little bit sad. he looks taller now, older. i’m happy for him, that he doesn’t have to push it out of his eyes anymore, that he doesn’t get knots in it that need to be combed. i’m mostly so happy that ernie just trimmed it and layered it, didn’t insist on some freak military buzz cut, though i do love the feeling of the back of a soft buzzed head.
dennis anderson and others
June 16, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | Leave a Comment
it’s hot and near to terrible. so we drink limeade. diane introduced us to limeade and its cooling properties long ago when henry was a new baby. it was independance day and too hot to sit for a display of fire, regardless of how magnificent it was heralded to be. definitely too hot for a newborn baby such as was henry. i sat in diane’s kitchen drinking limeade and tried not to hold the sweating baby too close. we were spoiled on the AC that spiked about our concrete cave apartment and did not know how to be in the heat.
jude is feeling better, a little at least. we’ve discovered something terrible that he loves to watch on the tv. normally he snubs his nose at the tomfoolery in the box and we had decided that it was because he was too smart for television. now we know that he just didn’t care for the trivialities we’d been offering him. he wanted something greater than that.
he loves monster trucks! the crashing of them, the flipping over, the spinning of tire and the spraying of dirt. we are too happy to hear the sounds of the world without his crying to care about how, well, how rustic such entertainment happens to be. truth be told, though, the moment the thing is turned on and the music begins, every man in the house falls silent until the need to hoot and holler overtakes them.
even i have been seen staring at the motorized professional wrestling as though in a trance. it’s come to this.
who will love a little sparrow?
June 15, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | Leave a Comment
cranky and just an overall mess, jude is sick and sad and full of sorrows. the only thing he really likes is slurping down the antibiotic. this only happens once a day.
mama is running out of entertaining antics that serve to make him laugh, or to at least stop moaning. as i type he’s freaking out because my flip flop doesn’t fit on top of my foot in the way that he wants it to fit.
help.
if i owe you an email here are a few reasons why:
certainly there will be light. and soon.
we went to the doctor where we waited for hours (no appointment) and watched a few very dirty children roll around on the floor of the waiting room. their grandmother squalled at them from a wheel chair. their mother was (hopefully) gleaning some useful parenting tips from an autumnal issue of parent magazine. we were witness to several strange limps, hacks, and slings, and to an ancient bronzed woman, whose skinny legs (clad in stretch pants) and abnormally large abdomen (way too old for baby) (clad in obscenely baggy muscle shirt) gave her an unfortunate resemblance to toad from the disney storyboards.
the highlight of the day, however, was trying to get jude to pee on command! horribly we had to tape this ridiculous little bag (at the sight of which jude exclaimed, “not that!” as though he’d done it before . . .) to him and cover it with a diaper. the amazing bladder control that followed tells me that he’s most likely ready for potty learning. in the end, i followed his naked white body (”i’m naked, i’m naked!” he sings) around the house with the cup that was sent home with us.
“who’s traveled far, and cries for rest . . .”
“a quick blur of curved silver darting away . . .”
June 12, 2006 | Filed Under ordinary | 3 Comments
we can point! we can shoot! a few days of resting and relaxing and she’s as good as new.
“but if something does flash before your eyes
as you go under, it will probably be a fish.”