Hello, Bubbe, Zayde?
The first call she made to us was just a tad after nine this morning. Slackers. We were still in bed. One of us (not me!) had got up at seven to let the older and more demanding of our two little dogs out into the backyard to do her thing, then got back into bed where I lay still asleep, the smaller of our dependents under the quilt, at my feet.
Fully alert, since he had been reading anyway, he had the pleasure of the initial conversation with us, hearing her disbelief and disapproval at our self-indulgent ways.
She'd already been on the trampoline that morning, right after breakfast. Was planning to go across the road to visit with their neighbours, Allison and Zeeb. There's the miniature horse, the out-to-pasture old racehorse, the multitude of dogs, the geese, the miniature goats to look at over there. She had done some reading before breakfast.
Busy, busy girl. Almost twelve, she's got a lot to attend to, though helping her mother isn't one of them.
I'd finished doing a deep cleaning of the kitchen after breakfast, laundered linen, was in the throes of cleaning our bathrooms when she called the second time. By then she was almost through the fourth of her most recent acquisitions from Scholastic Books; the fourth in a series of six, and she had them all, she said, gloatingly.
She told me about some new moves she was trying out on the trampoline, and I, ever the cautious worrywart, said have a care. Don't worry, her rejoinder, it's not as if I'm about to drown or anything like that. Thence followed a discussion relating to the relative dangers inherent in swimming pools as opposed to trampolines. That safety net, I said, can do just so much.
I'd call her back later, I said, had to finish doing the chores. Did the bathrooms, started moving the winter clothes to the back clothes cupboards, shifting over the summer clothing more conveniently to our bedroom cupboards. Been a busy week. On Saturday her grandfather had pried all the winter detritus out of the interior of our car. Then swept the sand we'd sprinkled over the icy walkways a mere month earlier.
And, while I hied myself off down the street to re-commence my door-to-door canvass for the Canadian Cancer Society, he continued, hauling stuff out of the garage, sweeping its floor, positioning all the garden pots in their places on our porch rail, the wrought iron furniture around the cobbled piazza, re-arranging things in the garage; snowthrower at the very back now, exchange the lawn mower's winter position.
Later I joined him, clearing away detritus out of the garden beds, marvelling at all the fresh new life springing up out of the earth, checking to see how the roses, the clematis, the honeysuckles are faring. The rhododendrons, the tree peonies, the magnolia, all look ready with their spring floral buds to promise us a fragrantly beautiful late spring.
The snow is fast fading, and none too soon. It's rather amazing that we've still got so much snow left, given the unusually high ambient temperatures of the past week, with more to come. The sun shining fully, mild breezes, highs of 25 degrees. Instant summer. We're garbed in short sleeves now, going through the ravine where the snow, in some places is still a good three feet in depth.
When she called again, around four, when I'd finished doing everything remotely resembling housework, I told her how good I felt about having done so much of the spring cleaning. All the kitchen cupboards, the bathroom vanities, the dining and breakfast room buffets, cleared of extraneous items, things I rarely used, and no longer wanted. So much space, I exulted.
Pots and pans? she asked. Yes, those and so many other things, like platters and mugs and tumblers, and even a set of dishes; redundant, all. A small electric deep-fryer, that huge old mixer with all of its incredibly heavy and space-consuming fittings; gone, all of it. Bubbe! she gasped, not that mixer on the back counter where you kept the Teddy Bears? Yep.
But it looked so good there...she wailed.
Fully alert, since he had been reading anyway, he had the pleasure of the initial conversation with us, hearing her disbelief and disapproval at our self-indulgent ways.
She'd already been on the trampoline that morning, right after breakfast. Was planning to go across the road to visit with their neighbours, Allison and Zeeb. There's the miniature horse, the out-to-pasture old racehorse, the multitude of dogs, the geese, the miniature goats to look at over there. She had done some reading before breakfast.
Busy, busy girl. Almost twelve, she's got a lot to attend to, though helping her mother isn't one of them.
I'd finished doing a deep cleaning of the kitchen after breakfast, laundered linen, was in the throes of cleaning our bathrooms when she called the second time. By then she was almost through the fourth of her most recent acquisitions from Scholastic Books; the fourth in a series of six, and she had them all, she said, gloatingly.
She told me about some new moves she was trying out on the trampoline, and I, ever the cautious worrywart, said have a care. Don't worry, her rejoinder, it's not as if I'm about to drown or anything like that. Thence followed a discussion relating to the relative dangers inherent in swimming pools as opposed to trampolines. That safety net, I said, can do just so much.
I'd call her back later, I said, had to finish doing the chores. Did the bathrooms, started moving the winter clothes to the back clothes cupboards, shifting over the summer clothing more conveniently to our bedroom cupboards. Been a busy week. On Saturday her grandfather had pried all the winter detritus out of the interior of our car. Then swept the sand we'd sprinkled over the icy walkways a mere month earlier.
And, while I hied myself off down the street to re-commence my door-to-door canvass for the Canadian Cancer Society, he continued, hauling stuff out of the garage, sweeping its floor, positioning all the garden pots in their places on our porch rail, the wrought iron furniture around the cobbled piazza, re-arranging things in the garage; snowthrower at the very back now, exchange the lawn mower's winter position.
Later I joined him, clearing away detritus out of the garden beds, marvelling at all the fresh new life springing up out of the earth, checking to see how the roses, the clematis, the honeysuckles are faring. The rhododendrons, the tree peonies, the magnolia, all look ready with their spring floral buds to promise us a fragrantly beautiful late spring.
The snow is fast fading, and none too soon. It's rather amazing that we've still got so much snow left, given the unusually high ambient temperatures of the past week, with more to come. The sun shining fully, mild breezes, highs of 25 degrees. Instant summer. We're garbed in short sleeves now, going through the ravine where the snow, in some places is still a good three feet in depth.
When she called again, around four, when I'd finished doing everything remotely resembling housework, I told her how good I felt about having done so much of the spring cleaning. All the kitchen cupboards, the bathroom vanities, the dining and breakfast room buffets, cleared of extraneous items, things I rarely used, and no longer wanted. So much space, I exulted.
Pots and pans? she asked. Yes, those and so many other things, like platters and mugs and tumblers, and even a set of dishes; redundant, all. A small electric deep-fryer, that huge old mixer with all of its incredibly heavy and space-consuming fittings; gone, all of it. Bubbe! she gasped, not that mixer on the back counter where you kept the Teddy Bears? Yep.
But it looked so good there...she wailed.
Labels: Personally Dedicated
posted by Pieface @ 4:43 PM
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