January 29, 2010
At the grocery store, Audrey picked up things like bread and peanut butter that she no longer bought in Costco quantities.
I’m slogging to the market today because everybody’s sick of eating chili. Even more exciting:
Evan had a great trip to your granddad’s. It started out badly—airport security took his toothpaste!! I blame myself. He was a good sport about it, but I’m not sure he brushed his teeth all weekend. He made out like a bandit when the Saints won last weekend—if I didn’t know better, I’d think you had something to do with that. Can’t wait for the Super Bowl.
Audrey chose the freshest-looking vegetables. She’d decide what to do with them later.
I finally met the man from the brown house. He’s a nice old guy named Felder—not sure if that’s his first name or his last. He really knows his way around the garden.
We had a roots problem in the basement, but our family tree came to the rescue! Seriously. The plumber turned out to be one of my very distant, castle-grabbing cousins. I also found out we’re not bolted to the foundation. Your dad has promised to tie us down this summer. I know…
Evan is doing well overall, though I don’t remember 15 being so hard for you or Joe. He runs every day now to the park and back. His times are all over the place. He must take breaks over there.
Audrey stood in line at the checkstand. She glanced at a magazine: “Avatar breaks box office records.”
Oh, we finally saw “Avatar”!! It was amazing. I never want to see another flat movie. I’m kidding, but it was like being right inside the story. I got to review it for a travel magazine. They want me to review a few more films, and even a play this weekend in Portland.
She unloaded her groceries on the belt.
I went with your dad to the wood store, and he went with me to yoga. He was stiff as a board for days. I suppose we’ll be doing more of this as time goes on… trading spaces. Virtual spaces. He thinks books and magazines and are going away, and paper in general, which would make Evan happy. I don’t want my paper to go away. You can see things through it.
So, there goes January. I hope Joe is writing to you. We love you and pray you’re safe.
Audrey mailed a letter in the drive-thru lane at the post office. Her window rolled up as she drove away.
©2010 Pam Wells