Dear Consort, #1
This is the first in a series of notes I’ll be writing you while you are in Nicaragua. I figure your e-mailbox will be overflowing with all sorts of crap that you don’t filter out (despite my constant nagging), so if I try to keep you updated via email, you’ll never see it. Maybe you’ll think about checking the blog, who knows? (I know *I* would if I were in Central America and only had 15 minutes or so at a cyber cafe to check up on the important things in life.)
Trixie misses you already. She hasn’t said anything outright, but lately she’ll be sitting there and all of a sudden sigh and say, “Zephyr misses Dad so much. Poor Basenji!” (I don’t agree with her, mostly because the dog is invariably curled up and asleep during these interludes. [Well, when she hears her name she wakes up, puts on her “pitiful face”, and slowly lifts her front paw, on the off-chance one of us might remember that what we really wanted to do was pat her tummy.])
Impera — ah, Impera. She’ll miss you heaps by the end of the two weeks. Yesterday morning, after taking her time doing her morning routine, I asked her if she had emptied her part of the dishwasher. “I don’t think I’ll have time,” she replied (it was 7:13, so she technically had 2 more minutes). I told her yes she did have time, because it was 7:13 and so she had two more minutes, so get crackin’! See? One week of this and she’ll be missing you.
I have not been feeding the girls well. Sunday we potlucked, so they ate fine. Monday was the Fiddle Jam Session (which went great by the way; she had a blast, and gosh does old-time music sound good when a group of eleven musicians play together. But boy, I had no idea so many of her teacher’s students were adults!) and fencing class, so I cooked a frozen lasagna, with no supervegetable. Yesterday, I had plans to make roasted asparagus and a frittata, but Impera asked if we could go to the bookstore to buy the other two books in the same series as Tithe, and, being a softie when it comes to book addiction, I said yes. Seeing as we only had a short while before she had to get to school for the orchestra concert, on the way home from the bookstore we stopped at Jimmy Johns and ordered sub sandwiches to go.
Tonight, Impera’s cooking my Mother’s Day meal. She asked for basil, heavy cream, and chocolate chips. Knowing her, I don’t have to worry about all three being combined in one dish! Tomorrow, I promise I’ll make that frittata. (Friday we’ll probably head out camping, so in the first 7 days you were gone, we’ll have eaten healthy twice, eaten grilled food once, eaten crappy twice, and eaten camping food twice. Not a good track record.)
The orchestra concert went very well. The chamber orchestra piece was good, too. But the music director forgot to put one person’s name on the program list of chamber orchestra members. Think of all the seventh graders we know who play classical instruments. Think of the *worst* person he could have left off the list…
…think you know who it was?
…Yep, he left off Queen. Poor kid. Aaargh!*
Well, I better sign off. It’s almost time for Impera’s fiddle lesson.
We love you lots, and hope you’re having a good time!
PS: Because of the camping trip, don’t bother trying to call at all on Saturday (not that we talked about you doing that, anyway.) (Plus, that satellite phone sux.)
*To the general readership: Queen is a socially immature kid who doesn’t really fit in anywhere. She tries too hard, you know? Being left off the chamber list will just underscore for her how invisible she must feel most of the time. I wish I could hug her, but her mom doesn’t like me and she’s stopped coming to the book chats. *Sigh*