The Rhythm of our Days
Most days do have a certain rhythm to them. Routine, I would imagine most people think. Predictable in many ways, although little things out of the ordinary always occur, regardless of how well we know the rhythm of our days. Ah, today was Friday, the 13th, an auspicious day. Fridays are fairly predictable for us. After breakfast I always do some baking, and today it was an apple pie. Finished that, I prepared a bread dough and stuck it in the refrigerator to use on Saturday when we make our ta-da! - Saturday-night pizza. Then I prepared a chicken soup for our evening meal, and also the sauce which will go over chicken breasts before they go into the oven. The sauce is rather nice, comprised of chopped green bell pepper, a jalapeno pepper, white mushrooms, and tomatoes. Over these chopped vegetables I pour a concoction comprised of chopped garlic, grated ginger, soya sauce, dash of brown sugar, half a tin of tomato paste, and a bit of olive oil. This stews in a bowl on the kitchen counter until I pour it all over the chicken preparatory to baking it.Good grief, where was I? Oh sure, while I'm busy in the kitchen, my husband does things like mow the lawn (after he brushes the dogs' teeth - no kidding, no tartar). One of our neighbours, Mohindar, comes over to jaw-jaw in his inimitable way. He's just had a shoulder operation and is out of commission for a bit. Then we went out for our morning ravine walk. We hadn't gone very far when a female Cardinal flew across the path down below us on the hill, her scarlet body muted by her red-brown wings. From a nearby tree the male trilled and thrilled us. Now that's notable, isn't it? This day we did come across a few other dog walkers, and Riley, our nutty little toy dog, growled, snarled and lunged as is his wont, loving to flirt with the potential of a swift demise. On our way home, we see a white cat in front of another neighbour's house, so my husband crosses the street to let its owner know that the cat is out, as it is not permitted to roam outdoors. This neighbour is a young and comely woman of superior intelligence, someone my husband spends many enjoyably relaxing hours speaking with.
Later, we did the food shopping. Since my husband simply cannot bear to leave our two little dogs at home alone (sob!), I do the food shopping and he either sits in the car with the dogs, or hoists them and takes them into Canadian Tire for that elusive tool or fitting that he simply must have. While I unpack the groceries, he replaces burnt-out bulbs, one in the powder room, a funny little affair quite unlike a conventional bulb, and the spotlight in our potlight, ha, a poet. We take a short break to peruse the two daily newspapers.
While he was mowing the lawn, the postie arrived and handed him a small box, with large Mao TseTung stamps covering the side surface. Because my hands were well floured, he opened the box and extracted a silk bag wherein lay three silver Tribal bracelets which I'd ordered through e-Bay. These are old cuff-type bracelets, beautifully worked with dragons' heads, set with torquoise, carnelian, lapis lazuli (the poetic cadence of the stones' names take me back to girlhood, reading books about Egypt). The smallest of the bracelets is for Angelyne, the other two, quite wide, are for her mother who loves bracelets and wears them marching up each arm. When our daughter was just out of her teens we first began buying her bracelets and since that time she has amassed a museum's worth.
I was glad they arrived (and speedily too) so soon after having paid for them. Reason was she'd had a kind of miserable day yesterday. Before she came by to pick up her daughter from us she'd gone by the gym (does this three to four times a week) for a work-out. She had waited, she said, about 15 minutes for the loose weights, asked the guy using them how much longer he'd be, and he said two sets 'and then it's over to you' he said. Trouble was, he left, and just as she made over to the weights, some other guy, big build, like most of them, thought he'd take over, and was putting his weights on. Not so fast, she said, wait your turn, or if you're in a hurry, work with me and we can do this together. This guy, about ten to fifteen years younger than her from her description, told her to get lost, only not so kindly. In fact a stream of profanity issued from his lips and he just wouldn't stop. Nor would she, and she informed him that she would tolerate some profanity directed toward her, but there was a limit, and if he considered himself an adult, he should behave like one, since his behaviour was such that she would not accommodate from anyone. He snarled she should get herself a brassiere, and she responded she would once he got himself a jock strap, and how did he like that? Whereupon she set about removing his weights and placing her own. He was with friends, and none of them said a thing. However, the manager did overhear what was happening and finally came over to put a stop to this guy's ongoing abuse.
Today, she had a telephone call from the owner of the gym who was extremely agitated, apologetic and determined to assure her that something like that would never happen again. Turns out this guy was a personal friend of the owner and the manager. The onlooking friends told the owner what had happened and he was apoplectic with anger at this 'friend'. So, you see, I wanted to bring a little lift to her spirits the following day and the bracelets, arriving just as they did, would do the trick, I thought.
Meanwhile, my husband went down the street to meet the school bus, and our granddaughter bounced cheerily into the house to tell us triumphantly that she'd aced her latest spelling test: 20 out of 20. Good going. What's more, the day before she had placed first in her age group in the racing heats and will now represent her school (among the other age-group runners) in the intramural races. And how about that? the evening before, her mother had pulled out that loose tooth, which had become reeealy loose, 'Boob' (that's me, her Bubie).
Angie was famished, of course, so she started off with a bowl of blackberries, consumed the rest of the Brownies, decided on one of the popsicles I'd frozen for her using cranberry-grape juice. She sucked the end of the popsicle, demonstrating for me how the end turns colourless as she sucks the juice out of the crystals, taking great pleasure in her little experiment. Oh yes, that wasn't quite enough, so she had a bowl of chicken soup and rice, and chased that down soon afterward with a stick of cheddar cheese. Have I yet mentioned how tall she is for her age, not yet nine? How smoothly graceful and lissom? I haven't? Consider it said.
She goes into the living room where her grandfather is reading the newspaper and plunks awkwardly into a miniature copy of a Victorian armchair which we had bought when she was a year old, and which she fit into very nicely at that time. She knows it is hers, I've told her that when she gets older and has her own apartment she can take it home. She has decided to ask whether she can take it home now, today. Greedy little oinker, because she's already wearing the beautiful bracelet that we showed her upon her arrival.
When her mother arrives, Angie shows off her bracelet. I show off the box with the large Chinese stamps. Our daughter's face lights up when she sees the bracelets and she is overcome with admiration for the work represented by these pieces of folk art. She has had a good day, after all. We see them off, Angie hoisting her chair into her mother's vehicle, then settle down for the quiet and peace of our Friday evening.
posted by Pieface @ Saturday, May 14, 2005
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