Something is the matter with the refrigerator. The meatloaf I pulled out for my Sunday lunch was covered in mold. I would have thought, under normal conditions, it could have lasted at least a week. The last of our bread also turned up spotted with white spores Sunday afternoon. That discovery was made after I had just finished an admittedly dry peanut butter and honey. Which makes me gag when that happens. The moldy bread was no fault of the cupboard however. It’s just that it was the bran bread and Granty only likes the white, fluffy “church bread,” one of the dangers of organized religion, so the bran bread sits and goes bad.
So Monday morning I woke up and the bread and cereal cupboard was all but bare, since no one eats the oatmeal, so it might as well not be there. And I went down to the laundry room, which is my normal routine, where I had to admit to myself that something is also the matter with the dryer, as the towels required a third cycle, and I felt bad that I will have to call Granddad, the landlord, and talk about these inefficiencies, wishing I could be more self-reliant. Everyday a step closer. Am I right?
But Olivia woke up productive, as usual, and when I suggested pancakes, she got out the griddle herself and we mixed up the batter, and as Ben came down the stairs he said “Olivia, those pancakes smell great.” For a moment we were functional. I could smell the blueberries cooking too. It did smell great. It smelled like a cozy morning. This was just as I noticed that there were, forming outside, some lovely grey, heavy clouds, and a strong wind blew in. There was even a grocery bag stuck to the tree in the front yard. Production Value! And it started to rain a little bit, but everyone was intrigued by the cozy, comforting smell of the pancakes. We felt like a fortress.
Olivia you intrigue me too.
She knows her multiplication facts now. I can hardly believe she should be that old. And she made breakfast for everyone.
We have become rabbit owners. I bought Kyle a rabbit for his birthday, which he named Cocoa. She is sometimes affectionate and sometimes what you might be tempted to call aggressive; probably just defensive. The kids were theorizing that maybe Cocoa came to us pregnant, and that’s why she has been a little nasty at times. Which made me wonder a bit about myself, since I have been pregnant for the better part of their lives. And she has a voracious appetite for cabbage. It is a good thing we bought her around St. Patrick’s Day, or we might have never discovered that.
Kyle is a good rabbit owner, and if he is not the first to tend to the rabbit after school, it is Olivia. I wonder what she will become. She is a nurturer and a natural caregiver. And she is good at math. So maybe she will be a nurse. Or a vetrinarian. It is a blessing to be here watching them grow. They are all their own universe, and I am here to be perplexed, confounded, endeared, and so often amazed.
The next time I write about rabbits it will be a discussion about rabbits on leashes. I haven’t decided what angle to take yet.
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