After
arrival in the afternoon. Kim, Paul, Owen and Brennan played and swam in the
pool. Owen swam well with arm bubble packs on. Supper at Daiquiri Shak,
playtime, Owen wasn't ready for sleep until nine-thirty. Quiet time for adults,
to bed at eleven-thirty. This morning Paul made breakfast for everyone, ham,
eggs and cheese on very thin round loaf sandwich bread and orange juice. You
just remembered you have pills to take. Carol is in Publix while the Paik's
headed for Target. Later this morning Linda, Bill, Jean and Jen will come over
for Sunday dinner with lasagna the main fare. This morning early with an added
treat, a pod of six to eight dolphin playing close by in front of the balcony
(more of that natural entertainment the Madeira Beach setting provides). You
may have time to work today, depending on circumstance. Relax and continue enjoying
the family time boy; there is nothing more significant than humane family time in
all these Merlyn works; something the Dead and many of the Living would attest
to in the kernel of their nature. Do you have any arguments on this assumption,
boy? - Amorella
0959 hours. Home from the grocery. I feel awkward putting in
this family busyness. I can't believe that the stories are that directly
related to this so far pleasant and enjoyable family time. While the time is
important to us, the grandparents, it does not seem worthy of sharing on the
blog. I defer to Amorella on this though as the blog was her concept
first. I have nothing else to say.
2209 hours. A busy fun day.
Let's see what comes up. - Amorella
2308 hours. I have finished The Brothers - 7 and feel pretty
good about it.
I like the twist in the DNA. Add and post. -
Amorella
***
The Brothers - 7 (completed draft)
The next
day while at Robert and Connie's dining room, the brothers sauntered out of the
kitchen into the dining room to rid themselves from their wives chatter on the
seemingly consistent recipes for roast beef and gravy as well as graham cracker
pie were essentially the same back through their grandparents' time. Each
recipe began with: "Do Not Share. This is a family recipe."
“Good brownies,” stated Robert as
the stood by the dining room table nibbling the freshly baked goodies on the
plate.
“Yeah,
this is my third one.”
“I
agree. My Connie makes the best brownies.”
“No
question on that, but Cyndi Bleacher makes the best chocolate chip cookies,”
smiled Richard while thinking, why is he saying my Connie. He better not let her hear him say that.
“Your
wife makes one hell of a cookie. I agree,” replied Robert who continued sipping
his half a glass of skim milk, noticing that his brother had finished his.
"I'm working a new poem," he paused, "on blacksmithing, welding
really."
"You
haven't used that as a subject before."
"You're
right."
"So,
why now?"
"I
was thinking about how it was on Uncle Doc and Auntie's farm when we were kids.
Their neighbor was a smithy when he needed to be. I remember he came over and
welded the plow more than once. The arc, the welding light, was the brightest
thing I had ever seen.
"We
were told to never look directly at it."
"I
only did once. Never forgotten." Robert paused, "so I need to shade the
memory in ink."
“You've
got the welding imagery. I've been thinking about the mausoleum as a poetic
theme."
"I
go for the light and you for the stained glass," laughed Robert.
Richard
asked, “What about the stained glass?”
“What
about it?”
“I
liked the artistic symbolism.”
“I
did too, but I think my interest peaked with the three women and the angels
having green wings.”
Richard
laughed, “The ladies were waiting for the Resurrection and it already had taken
place.”
“You
know,” said Robert. “I never got that. Why were they going to the tomb if they
had any sense that he wasn’t going to be there?”
“I
suppose they were just checking it out, just like we did at the mausoleum.
“True
enough,” laughed Richard. “True enough.”
Cyndi
walked in from the kitchen first, "What you are boys talking about?"
"The
stained glass in the mausoleum," said Robert, "the angels with green
wings."
Richard
quickly followed, "I like the angelic symbolism of the resurrection that
had already happened."
"Why
are you two agnostics talking about angels?" responded Cyndi,
"especially you Richard?"
"Yah,
Dickie?" drawled Robert in a false Texas humor.
The
voice from the kitchen, "What are you guys arguing about?" asked
Connie. Now walking in on the others she gave her husband Robert an annoying
look for the mock impoliteness directed at his brother. She quickly smiled and
gave Richard a peck on the cheek, "I think 'Dickie' is endearing. Your
grandparents enunciated it with great affection."
"Grandma
enunciated it like she was calling the hogs. 'Dick-kie, where are you
Dick-kie," he mimicked. They all laughed as Richard shook his head in
embarrassment and disgust.
"Grandma
was a farm girl, no question about it," said Richard clearly and with a
large grin. "I loved my grandparents, each one."
"Our grandparents," added Robert.
"We thought of them as our
grandparents too," noted both Connie and Cyndi almost in a common voice.
Connie continued, "You know
all of our grandparents played bridge together long before we were ever thought
about."
"True," added Richard,
"during the depression they made up their own entertainment."
"The four grandmothers shared
family recipes only written for family . . ." noted Cyndi.
"Like
they were already family," added Connie.
Robert raised
his right eyebrow, "That sounds a little, uh, sexual."
Richard
laughed, "Maybe they had secret love fests." Both brothers laughed as
Connie and Cyndi left the room in a huff of disgust. "What did we do, open
up a can of worms?"
Robert
started laughing, the Richard followed. One of the two, murmured, "We are
so sick humored, man," and returned their focus to the taste and texture
of those made from scratch caramel and chocolate brownies.
712 words
***
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