There is no post today because:
1. Monday was a snow day and it was too cold to get the kids outside. Coming off the weekend and a string of cold days, they were quite a bit stir crazy. My only creative thoughts on Monday were about how to put together a dogsled team to pull a sled made for one, what to pack and whether it would be better to arrive somewhere or to fall nobly off the sled into the soft drifting snow while the dogs pulled on. I might have opted for this last except I worried the visiting shitzu would notice and come back to me. I would awake not to the pearly gates but to the eager tongue of the animal dropping connoisseur on my face.
2. Tuesday was full of commitments.
3. Two people I know are suffering under the ravages of an unkind disease. Sometimes death is beautiful and people write books and poems about it. Other times loving people and their families means there isn’t very much to say.
Buster eating this year’s Christmas tree two weeks ago. He has it down to a trunk with little six inch nubs now.
Boy one came in from the barn Friday night to ask for help. Buster had gotten into one of the stalls in the barn. When Boy one tried to shoo him out, Buster went the other direction and tried to jump the divider into the next stall.
I arrived to find Buster oddly tipped on his front legs, his back hooves not quite touching the ground and the weight of his back end held up by the two-by four running underneath him tight up against the his haunches. Slaps and pokes were useless. Boy one tried a screw driver to take down the rail. I tried to shove a bale of straw up to where Buster could put his back feet on it and finish the ill planned leap, but he just couldn’t do it.
We solved it with Boy talking to Buster while I sawed through the rail, wondering if he’d be able to walk properly after all that hanging around in the air while we tried to figure things out. The board finally gave way. Buster got his feet back and went to find his mother.
In my experience, boys find it important to share these kinds of things with their mother.
Boy two found me alone recently.
I licked the tractor again, he said.
It’s -20°C, I said.
I know, he said. I lost a taste bud and my tongue hurts. I don’t know why I do it, but sometimes I just have to.
He often serves on the altar at our church. After a service a few weeks ago he caught me.
I have this idea, he said. I think they should have the ALT OLYMPICS, like altar server, get it?
I pictured earnest children evaluated by adults with checklists for attention to detail, surprised at Boy two’s enthusiasm. Was he beginning to value the importance of being careful despite the tedious nature of details?
For the opening ceremonies, he said, everyone comes out in the robes from their church. Then for the competitions, everyone does the fifty yard dash but they have to hold candles while they run. For the hurdles, they have to jump over pews instead. I haven’t figured out all the events yet. Maybe they could throw an incense boat or something for shot put, I don’t know.
Obviously, we are headed for great things.
Boy one cannot begin his work until he has had a proper amount of time to talk about it. Saturday he was inspired (while reclining) towards a future business endeavor.
Listen to this, he said. In University, I’m going to get some other guys and we’ll start a company. Man Maids. We’ll clean for people, watch their kids, whatever. I bet we’ll have so much business. They’ll hire us because the name is cool and because we’ll look so muscular.