The boys are here and eating pancakes and bacon because their papa is going to be a little late today. Pancakes and bacon have become the default dinner for them around here and no, it's not very healthy but I did put oat bran in the pancakes and a little of this morning's smoothy so there's a tiny bit of fiber and nutrition in them.
I asked Owen how they tasted and he took a bite and chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then said with quiet authority, "The best."
It still hasn't rained but has been gray and heavy as prison walls all day long. The radar seems to show that it is inevitable that we will get rain tonight and the ground is gasping for water so please all-gods-that-be, let some rain finally fall from this cement sky. I feel like my soul needs the relief as much as the dirt does. I also feel like I feel too much and make too much out of it.
But. That is me.
When the boys and Greta got here today Owen wanted to do the puzzle that I got last week at the Costco. It is a one-hundred piece puzzle of a beautiful folk-art picture of Noah's Ark so not too difficult but certainly not completely simple, either. We got straight to work and we loved the images of the monkeys and pigs and elephants and alligators and even two dinosaurs (not of the same breed which explains a lot- DUH, Noah!) and I asked him, as we worked, if he knew the story of Noah's Ark. He did not and I told it to him, the basic outlines of it, and when I finished I said, "It's not true, but it's a good story."
He agreed that it was and he also agreed that it was a bit far-fetched and we discussed how much poop would have been in that ark after forty days and forty nights.
It gave us a lot of pleasure.
When Gibson and I were in the car alone waiting to pick up Owen, the little man did a funny routine and it cracked me up.
"My arm hurts!" he would say.
"Oh no! Not your arm!" I would say.
"My leg hurts!"
"Oh no! Not your leg! Do we need to go to the doctor?"
"My hand hurts!"
"Oh no! Should we go to the hospital?"
When he got to "my little toes hurt," I lost it.
"Oh no! Not your little toes!"
I love these boys so much. I love watching them grow. Owen and I played cards too and he knows his numbers now. He knows which number is higher than another. He also did "experiments" and he has gone home now with green hands.
"Tell my daddy why I have green hands," he said.
"You tell him," I said.
"I'm embarrassed," he said.
I no longer have any food coloring. I'll just say that.
I have split pea soup simmering and focaccia bread rising. I suppose we could have eaten pancakes and bacon for supper but I don't really want that. I want to charm stormy weather, cooler weather, rain, into coming down with my soup. Sometimes I feel like a witch-crone, trying to use all of the powers at my commend even if they are so prosaic and plain, to use as spells. Soup and garden-planting, story-telling and kisses.
I went in and kissed Gibson on the head while he was playing with some toys and he actually said, "Thank-you, Mermer!"
"Seven things you don't know about the Kardashians!" bleats an online headline.
There are seven million things I don't know about the Kardashians. I am probably not even spelling their name right and I don't care.
I do not know so many things but I do know how to make soup, to make bread and pancakes, to tell stories, to kiss grandchildren, to root plants, to make a bed, to stroke a cat in the middle of the night when bad dreams come and the cat presents herself to me for comfort.
I don't really know how to cast spells.
I am not really a witch.
But I am, I think, a crone.
That will do until something else comes down the road.