What Happened This Week

John lost a tooth. John asked the tooth fairy for a silver dollar. The tooth fairy responded in a letter, “Dear John: a paper dollar will have to do. Perhaps next time.”

Tierra dropped out. Her voucher was reduced from three beds, then to two, and ultimately to one. You have to love the Durham Housing Authority. Enter Felithea, Will and Hannah.

I should have just parked and went to church, but then Clik and Clak opened up the line for one more caller, and it was Christo Jackson.  I am pretty certain that it was that Christo, with that voice. I imagine he was wearing that blue sport coat and folding those gold-rimmed reading glasses into his thick-thumbed hands. “I have an ’86 VW Golf,” he said, “and it will only start if I tap on the fuel pump with a hammer.” Gee, Christo, why not get a new car, then? Why not pick up an almost brand new ’93 Accord?

I still can’t sleep. In the last five days, I have probably slept for about 25 hours. Yet, I can’t fall asleep. During the day, I can’t stay awake.

Susie and I had two dates. On Wednesday, we went to the Federal for sandwiches and a beer. On Saturday, we went to a birthday party held at a friend’s house down the street.

Melinda left. Melinda went back to Platte Cove to be with her family. Her dad, Joel, has a broken arm. Melinda may be sent to Australia in the near future. It is hard to know for sure. She could remain in New York, or she could even go to England or to Pennsylvania.

We fixed the roof. James put on the last round of asphalt himself. I wanted metal. We got metal. We put metal roofing above our kitchen, and above the front porch. The metal didn’t work. John saw it, and he said, “Gee, that is a funny color.” Well said. When burgundy on the brochure is orange on the roof, it is time to think again. No one said that it would have the screws sticking out, either. It did. Putting in those screws means that the original (new) roof then had holes. So, we had to buy more 50-year shingles. The new new roof looks great. It has some tones of blue and red. Overall, it is supposed to come together in a pointillist kind of way to make slate. Perhaps. It does bring out the colors in the brick well. It is also a feature that the roof doesn’t leak anymore.

John got a pocketknife. At first I said, “no…no..” But the, I thought again. Seven years old is just old enough to where it is still scary, but it is also a chance for John to demonstrate some responsibility. My rules: he can only use it when he is sitting down. He has to store it in the same place. If he is pointing it at people, then it goes away. If he is using it by himself, but standing up, then it takes a break. So far, so good. John is whittling. All day. He’s also making boats. He found a library book that shows how to fold paper into floatable structures. Now armed with a pocket knife, every Amazon delivery box or package of Wheat Thins is a potential Panamax or pirate ship.

John got a bad case of poison ivy. Even Allegra wouldn’t get it under control.

Rosie is scared about school. She has a lot of friends from Beth El that will be going to Watts. Unfortunately, none of them were designated to go into Ms. Watson’s classroom.  We’re fine with that, because Ms. Watson has been the preferred teacher among parent whisperers from two years now. Rosie is not swayed by those whispers. She is also worried about lunch. Will they make her eat the food? No, she won’t have to eat it.

Rosie is about to learn to read. She’s working through the Mat Sat books. She also has a nice collection of two toasts plus one toasts equals three toasts books.

Jonny rented the “mountain house.”

I fixed the lawnmower. No fancy $75 tune up for me. One sparkplug – $2.19. One air filter: $7.66. One sharpened blade: free.

Our tomatoes are not coming in well. We have huge plants. Huge. Some of the plants are almost seven feet tall. They are not making any fruit. I put in too much nitrogen.

We picked twenty pounds of blueberries. It rained the whole time. John and I found a set of never-been-picked bushes. “This is the harvest,” he shouted to the rest of the patch. “La Cosecha!”

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