If I had Tom T. Hall’s talent I could write a “story song” from the events of this week.
But given my abilities I’ll keep things limited to prose.
Sunday: Church, lunch after church. Then Geogal gives the kitchen a deep cleaning. Shortly I hear a YIPE!, followed by whimpering.
No limbs lost, but one heckuva bloody finger. Cut it on the inside of the toaster oven. She decides to head over to the ER and returns in short order with a sophisticated bandage and the needle stick from a tetanus shot. But no need for stitches.
Monday: Begin week as usual. Breakfast, check over evening meal plans, head out to work. Eat leisurely lunch.
Notice storm clouds gathering. It’s getting darker. Soon I hear folks in the building listening to weather radio and chatter over the city’s 2-way system.
Get a call from Geogal. “Are you coming home?”
Nope. The higher-ups haven’t excused any of us.
Tornado warning. And the building in which I labor does not have anything resembling a storm shelter.
The siren sounds. Then the rain pounds, followed by hail (only pebble size).
On the home front the gals are huddling in the basement.
Turns out our town is spared.
Tornadoes do touch down at points south and east.
Get home at quitting time. Next thing you know the phone jangles with the sheriff’s department doing reverse-911 calls. Another tornado warning. And in the middle of meal prep.
Go down to subterranean safe level. Come back up a few minutes later when it is revealed the warning in question refers to the northwest part of the county, not anywhere near us.
Tuesday: Next-to-last softball game for little Geoana. A nail-biter but they pulled it out in the end. Final score: 7 to 6.
Her games commence at 8:30 in the p.m. Hard to go home and hit the hay after all that.
Wednesday: Normal routine (see Monday). Get home from work, go exercise, Come back home, eat a leisurely meal.
Oh, did I mention I saw a utility vehicle at one of the lots in town? Would meet Geogal’s needs perfectly. (When winter drew to a close she voiced her desire for a large SUV that has 4-wheel drive, the better to tame the snow with!) She rings me in the 4 o’clock hour, want to come over and test drive it?
We do. Nice. Maybe a bit too nice.
Back at the domicile, she and little Geoana go about making cookies from scratch. (For the blood drive the following day.) I’m down in the basement minding my own business. Next thing I hear is yelling, then whiny little girl voice. More yelling from the adult of the pair.
I head upstairs to ensure nobody’s finger got sliced off.
Nope. Just the little girl not paying attention and most of an egg winding up on the counter and floor. And a mother who is on the edge of postal.
A short while later, all is calm once again. Congregate to watch Star Trek--TOS on the DVD. (The episode was “Arena,” if you’re curious.)
Thursday: Kitchen is a wreck from the evening before. Cycle is off, dishwasher ran in early evening. Dishes inside are clean and waiting to be put away. In the meantime the cookie preparation and mealtime did the usual damage to cleanliness. (Normal cycle would involve an empty dishwasher after supper, then it gets loaded and we hit the “on” switch before going to bed.)
Before I even have breakfast I commence on the evening meal. Pulled pork sandwiches. Involves dry rubbing a shoulder roast and preparing a concoction of apple juice this and apple cider vinegar that. Throw in some Worcestershire sauce and liquid smoke to boot. Set in Crock Pot and turn switch to low. Many hours should make good meat.
Then assume role of “Cookie.” Fry bacon, then whip up some farm-fresh scrambled eggs for everyone. After, head out to work as usual.
Meanwhile Geogal gets home from work, has little Geoana unload the dishwasher, then attacks the kitchen with something a little shy of vengeance. By the time I get home the cooking area is immaculate. Crock Pot is the lone warrior, doing its thing on the countertop with nary a complaint.
Looking forward to an easy evening. The meal is mostly done, then little Geoana has a softball game at 8:30. The last one of the season.
Then the phone rings. It’s the P.E. teacher/local recreation guru/softball umpire calling to tell us that little Geoana’s team has a game scheduled at 6. (It’s currently 5:55.) A quick glance at the schedule confirms it--the coach and just about all the parents missed the fact that today’s contest involves TWO games. And hardly anyone from our daughter’s team is even there. Might be looking at a forfeit.
Hit panic button. Geogal starts calling the other kids’ parents. Some are in town, some live out on farms.
She gets little Geoana there. Calls a bit later, they’re playing. Got 8 girls.
I eat in peace, then gather together said food to provide nourishment to the rest of the family.
Arrive at the ballpark, find Geogal. Tell her I’ve got the food. She’ll eat once this inning is over.
Third out. That’s the game. (Time-limited and it started late.)
Head back home, so thankful I took the food down there (said to self in sarcastic tones).
Back at the homestead, the females eat while I begin working on this piece.
Postscript: The second game of the doubleheader was won by little Geoana’s team. 11-10 on a walk off base hit. (They were the home team.)
And we haven’t even experienced Friday yet....
