When I got to Lily's today to get the boys, Owen was very excited to show me what he'd gotten from his other grandma's house this past weekend. An owl he called Hedwig, for Harry Potter's owl, and a husky puppy he was calling White Fang. The boy does love his animal friends. And had a severe case of bed-head. I told him he looked like the lead singer in an 80's rock band. And he did.
We packed everything up and got in the car and drove through a car wash which was SO MUCH FUN because, well, it just is.
And then bloooooooooooowwwwwwwwww!
And we arrive on the other side all sparkly clean and happy. So happy that they talked Mer into buying them Icee's or whatever they called the brand at that particular convenience store which should have been Gag-Me-This-Sucks.
Gibson drank about two sips and Owen managed a bit more and I didn't feel bad at all about throwing the rest in the trash. In this case, it WAS the thought that counted and their Mer bought them a frozen concoction of sugar and chemicals and they were happy.
On the way home I said, "Hey! Let's stop at a thrift store I know and y'all can pick out a toy!"
All righty then and we sure did and when we drove up the sign said, "Toys and books, 50% off."
Shitfire, Martha! It was our lucky day.
We had a lot of fun picking out toys and then I thought about all the joy and happiness this was creating (and 50% off!) and said, "You can both have TWO toys!"
Well. That was about the best thing that ever happened to them and Owen got a Dinosaur and Wild Animals Play Set with fifty-nine pieces AND a giant stuffed husky and Gibson chose a pink doll stroller and a Fisher Price Tool Set.
And Mer plunked down her $6.44 and we were all in a state of great celebration and we drove home and toys were spread out.
A baby was strolled for about six seconds.
The giant husky was washed and dried and came out soft and warm and she and her baby cuddled up and were so happy to have found each other again.
Owen picked figs for me and Gibson wanted me to lay down on the bed with him while he watched videos on my phone for awhile. They ate lunch and we found six nice eggs and fed chickens and Owen washed some of his dinosaurs and Gibson played mermaids and monkeys
at the beach in a bowl of water on a towel on the kitchen floor and we all smelled the spices and Owen grated nutmeg. Somehow, this activity evolved into me making gingerbread. I didn't think that Owen would like it at all but he ate a small piece and said he liked it pretty good as did Gibson and now they know what cloves and cinnamon and ginger and cardamom all taste like when baked into a cake with molasses and flour and butter and eggs.
So yes. It was a very fine day and now they're gone and Mr. Moon is off to auction and two yellow flies bit me and my toe is swollen up like a little pink pickled sausage and my beloved, beloved dishwasher is running so quietly that I can barely hear it and somewhere to the east they are getting a storm and the radar says it is coming here and it is thundering and the air has turned a bit cooler (meaning like if you stuck a fan in the oven) and the wind picks up and dies away and the sky is a bit ominous. The elephant ears are bowing their green heads up and down in acceptance of whatever comes.
And here comes the rain.
My god. It smells so good.
Here. Bruce. Prophet, story-teller, healer, stirrer-of-my-soul.