In the late afternoon yesterday we arrived back here in Lake Havasu after having spent the better part of a week at our home in beautiful Crestline. Jerry had a doctor’s appointment on Monday morning, so immediately after church last Sunday we drove home.
“I’m coming up on Tuesday to spend a few hours with you and Mom,” Rebecca told her dad on Sunday. “I’ll be bringing the rest of my birthday pie.”
A rare occurrence is for Jerry to grocery-shop, but on Tuesday morning, he traipsed down to Goodwin’s market and came home with a chuck roast, a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk. Rather proud of his selection, I think, he noted how beautiful was the roast, and a little fretfully explained that he had thought of buying steaks, but at nearly $10.00 a pound had decided instead on the old standby of a pot-roast. “They’re really hard to beat,” he argued to my smiling, “been-there done-that” face.
“Exactly so,” I agreed.
I seared well the piece of beef and set it to cook atop the stove in a heavy covered pot. The tantalizing scent permeated our mountain home during the afternoon and greeted Rebecca and Nathaniel when they arrived around 4:30. We had eaten no lunch. “Come hungry,” I told Rebecca earlier in the day, planning that we would have dinner as soon they could drive up the mountain after she picked up Nathaniel from school. He was a sight when he walked in the front door.
The meal was scrumptious, concluding with the half pie Rebecca had brought. Her birthday was on the previous Saturday and some friends had taken her out to dinner and somewhere in the mix a delicious Brownie/Caramel/Mousse pie came into play, and its luscious remainder was now split four ways…and finished off. We visited so late and long that Rebecca told Nathaniel he had to get started on his homework, at which he balked, but to which he finally turned his attention.
We had plans, Rebecca and I, so at 8:30 on Wednesday morning, I pulled into her driveway, she heard me and quickly came to the car. We had lots to do. For breakfast, we drove to Starbucks for coffee and muffins (I know, I know. I’ve voiced issues with Starbucks, but read carefully I did not say I wouldn’t go there, but that when I had a choice I would choose another place, and anyway I had gift cards. 🙂 ) We talked a long time over our muffins, then drove to the mall where the mama treated the birthday girl to a couple of presents. Rebecca snagged a pair of brown shoes and a quite necessary unmentionable–actually two of the deals. And yes, the mama shopped too and wore new black shoes to church this morning as proof.
The day slipped too quickly, and we must have lunch before I had to drive Rebecca back to her home, for Nathaniel must be retrieved from school, so we dashed to Marie Callender’s. We split a super dish of Beef Stroganoff and each had a green salad, which were so large, we could also have split them.
“We don’t spend enough time together,” one of us said, and the other agreed, but we’ll do it as often as we can, we pledged.
Rebecca is the best daughter any mother could have. She is beautiful in every way, and I love her dearly.
On Thursday I cleaned, for the holidays are coming, you know, and Jerry and I will be home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas, and I can’t wait, and I want everything as nice as is possible, although I am not one to overly fret about perfection. However, my large collector’s cabinet in which I display a moderate collection of carnival glass was howling for attention. I spent 3 hours on the thing. You read right; actually it was probably closer to 4 hours. I completely emptied it, hand washed and dried every piece of glass, took out the glass shelves, washed and dried them, then polished the inside and outside of the cabinet to a gleam. I took a tiny brush to the crevices, then Windexed the little panes until finally it was splendid.
I gauged the crystal and carnival glass items as I returned them, rearranging, thinking of the occasions when I received some as gifts, or when I had bought them at a shop, fingering the tags on those I have promised to Chloe and Gentry and Nathaniel. I sketched around with thoughts of my death, and how those grandchildren will react when I am gone, and my pieces of colored glass will now be their own.
Andrew and Shawnna and their five came by to spend the night on Friday after a party in Rialto. It occurred to me as I hugged Cole that something looked funny about him. “Let me look at you, Cole.” He grinned, I held him straight in front of me, and saw that he is missing his four front teeth. Two on the top–two on the bottom. On Saturday morning before they left he posed for a picture.
“I can’t believe he’s grinning like that at you,” Andrew said. “He wouldn’t let us take a picture at all.”
Later I snapped a few shots of the kids with their Pappy, and in every one of them, Cole grins widely, as though to show well his snaggly appearance.