We got a boat this summer. Well, first we got the pond dug out again,
but the boat is not for that
pond. That pond tends to shrink in inverse proportion to Jim’s fantasy
about a real pond on our property. That pond couldn’t float a toothpick. But it did get Jim to reminiscing about the
old aluminum bass boat his dad had back in Arkansas when we first started
dating – one that I also never saw in their
pond. Apparently, it’s a real boat if it
has to be driven somewhere else (anywhere else) on a trailer.
After a month of artful hints --
like leaving the Craigslist boat listings open on the computer -- Jim sent me
this subtle inquiry when he was supposed to be at work: “Would you ever go
fishing? And can’t see your response of a pause or a sigh to know for
sure.” After rolling my eyes, but before
I sighed, I texted back that I would if he had a boat, because that would make
it a lot easier to read the book I planned to have with me (as opposed to
trying to read the book as we walked around our pond while Jim cast his line).
A mere 16 hours later, after
bribing the girls into taking the quick trip down to Norman, Oklahoma, Jim had
his boat: a 1997 Nitro Savage 88f bass boat, with 150hp Mercury fuel-injected
and oil-injected 2-stroke engine with a hot foot. I faithfully relay this information from the
listing because some of you may understand it.
Only one tire on the trailer blew
out on the way back home, resulting in Jim discovering he couldn’t find the
spare tire jack in my car. I couldn’t
tell him where it was because even though I always have flat tires, I never
change them: that’s what the boys are for.
So he called AAA Roadside Assistance on his cell phone that was nearly
dead because he didn’t have his charger (see “in my car”), AAA denied
assistance because they don’t service boat trailers, etc., you get the
idea. Clearly, this boat was meant to
be.
I asked Jim, belatedly, where he
planned to keep it. Visions of the
“project” 1957 Cadillac danced through my head.
You know, the Cadillac that slowly eroded away as it sat parked in front
of the garage, and finally got moved out to the barn just last year. I erred in my interpretation of the
term. It wasn’t a project Cadillac. It was a projects Cadillac. As in, “fresh out of the projects.” But back to my story. “By my bed,” he
responded so promptly I knew he’d been dying for me to ask. I didn’t point out it was my bed, too,
because he granted my latest heart’s desire, which was for the dog not to sleep with us, so I owed him one.
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| "The Boat" |
Because it’s just too hot out in the barn to weld, Jack has renewed his interest in chemistry. Each day I find some probably deadly concoction in a glass beaker on the kitchen counter, or else simmering away on the hot plate in the dining room, the cord stretched dangerously across from the table to the counter-level outlet, forcing his sisters to duck at the last minute as they chase Higgins around said table.
When his latest attempt at
creating a substance to eat organic material ate through the non-organic
plastic bottle he stored it in, dribbling across the counter and down to the
floor, where his bare foot was (bare, 1 - because he had a case of poison ivy
between his toes and was trying to keep it dry, and 2 - because he was creating
a caustic mixture and why wouldn’t he be barefoot, gloveless, and lacking
chemical goggles?), he only commented mildly, “That hurt a lot less than I
expected.” Meanwhile, Amanda and I scrambled around trying to determine what we had on
hand that was non-reactive and could be safely used to mop up the mess … and
still be intact enough to strangle him with afterwards.
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| The alchemist at play |
Woody’s summer reading has leaned
more toward Life’s “Godzilla: The King of the Monsters,” and also the text app
on his phone.
Speaking of Woody, he survived
his first semester at Central Christian.
As predicted, the greatest challenges were things like finding his
homework assignments, doing his homework assignments, turning in his homework
assignments … Also, he struggled with
packing his lunch, remembering to take his lunch, bringing the lunch box home,
and cleaning the lunchbox out before the contents were black and furry. He got the social part of school down pretty
quick, and never missed a day, for fear of not seeing his friends. But our questions always seemed to catch him
by surprise. For example:
Me: “Woody, are you out early on
Friday?”
Woody: “Uh … not really.”
Me: “It’s not that kind of a
question.”
Woody reached another milestone,
although I wasn’t looking for it when it happened. We were at Costco and Woody was eyeing the
samples. When he found one he wanted, he
took it and -- pointing preemptively toward me since he knew the drill -- said,
“That’s my mom.” At this, the sample lady looked at him rather blankly. I should clarify that she had to look up at him. After an awkward pause I said, “Woody, I
don’t think you have to tell them I’m your mom anymore. You’re big enough to eat samples without getting
permission.” And just like that, he was all
grown up.
Should anyone be in doubt,
though, he also got his driver’s license this summer, which opened up a whole
new world of him having to make his own haircut appointments, driving to the
church to mow the lawn there and going to fill all the gas cans with gas for
mowing our lawn. It isn’t quite what he
expected.
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| Jim and Woody at the zoo |
Betsy also ran two 5Ks with Aunt
Amanda. I think her favorite part of
training was eating lots of peanut butter. It definitely wasn't the running part. Amanda said that somewhere in
the middle of the 5K, Betsy looked at her as if to say, “I’m going to kill you.”
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| Getting ready to run the first 5K |
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| Amanda and Betsy before the starting gun |
Lucy learned to ride a bike this past summer, and yes, 8 is a little old, but it’s not easy learning to ride on either sharp gravel or dense, jungle-thick grass, which were her only two choices. Lu also ran/walked in one of the 5Ks with Jim. He said she did alright until people started reaching the halfway point and turning around. Then she glared at Jim in disbelief, “You mean we have to go BACK?” Both girls forgave Amanda for tricking them (By “tricking” I mean she straight up told them they were going to run. That was it. DIABOLICAL!) when she took them to McDonald's for pancakes.
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| Jim and Lucy finish strong ... or at least still upright |
The girls have enjoyed taking care of their annual rabbits, and weren’t even phased when the rabbits all climbed out of their latest escape-proof hutch to spend the rest of their (numbered) days loitering around the house waiting for free handouts and pooping on the lawful residents’ porch. It’s like having a little slice of Seattle right here in Benton.
Since Jack quit piano at the beginning of summer, I started taking lessons, and I have to tell you, it’s harder than I thought it would be. Oh, playing the piano is hard, to be sure (or it would be if I aspired to competence), but what I mean is that it’s harder than you think to keep your mouth shut when you practice. We had such fun teasing Jack about his mouth falling open, you can imagine my consternation when I discovered I do the same thing. I’ve taken to clamping a pencil between my lips, muttering and scratching notes into the margins of the lesson book, which looks impressive, but really all I’m doing is writing down the number of the finger I’m supposed to be striking the key with. And sometimes I write down a random “arrrgghh!” in the tricky places. The end result is, I haven’t drooled yet onto the piano keys, and that’s a win for everyone.
Besides running in the 5Ks with
the girls, Amanda has been puttering in her garden, caring for her geriatric
dog, quilting, baking and working. Jim
installed a screen door on the depot so she can leave the front door open to
catch the oppressively hot, humid summer breeze.
He also installed a new a/c unit for the depot, but she couldn’t tell
him if it was working well because she wouldn’t turn it on (to save on
electricity), to which he said pointedly that he hadn’t wasted all that time
installing the unit during the hottest month of the year so that she wouldn’t use it. So there.
She turned it on.
We enjoyed a visit from the
Perkins over the Fourth of July, and didn’t burn anything down. I don’t believe anything died while they were
here, either, so in all, it may have been a letdown for them.
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| Jack, Jake, Betsy and Gracie feeding the koi at the zoo |
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| Clockwise, starting at left: Jack (18), Gracie (12), Jacob (16), Woody (16), Betsy (12) and Lucy (8) |
And now, because school is starting in a week and everyone is busy, Jim has started demolishing the shower in the bathroom by the kitchen (we never used that shower) so he can install … wait for it: a photography dark room. “Who is the amateur photographer?” You may ask, but I beat you to it: I had to ask, too. Apparently, it's going to be Jim. "Remember," he asked wistfully, "when we used to take pictures of the kids?" I did. That was back when I could carry a fully-loaded diaper bag, car seat plus baby and my purse. What was carrying one more measly item like a Canon EOS 5D camera with all its attachments? Somewhere along the way, though I lost interest in carrying extras -- like children in car seats. And cameras. Now I recall that when I took photography in college, I was terrible at a few things, like setting F-stops and shutter speed, and rolling film onto film reels in the dark. When Jim took photography, he didn't branch out on subject matter: most of his photographs were of me (ah, dating!). And neither of us remembers at all how to develop film. So this should be fun.
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| Tight quarters for a dark room |
