Observations on a Life

We had a dinner party for 10 adults and 8 children.
Among us:
A vegetarian who eats fish.
A vegetarian who does not eat fish.
A man who cannot eat dairy.
A man allergic to meat.
A woman allergic to corn.
A child who is allergic to nuts.
A child who was once allergic to nuts.

A perfect snapshot of Modern Living, I think.

***

Do you read the newspaper? Seriously, you should. Wonderful nuggets.
I cannot stop thinking about the woman who baked more than 4,000 cookies for Christmas. Why?
And, from the obits, I learned of an 83-year-old man named Finis. He was the last of his mother’s 15 births (10 children lived), hence a name that meant “The End.”
I would have liked to have met his mom.

***

I left the door between the guinea house and the enclosed pen open one night. On that night, something — bobcat, fox, wolf, raccoon, who knows — pried open the pen door, got into the coop and walked out with one of the guineas.

The surviving birds were outside the coop, in the rain, making a racket when I woke. It’s how I learned of the kidnapping. I found no remains.

Fast forward a few days. Maria and I, and a 6-year-old friend, went for a walk in our woods. Just off the trail, about a five minute walk from the coop, there’s a spot in the brown leaves that looks as if someone has shaken a down pillow. I let the girls walk ahead of me a bit and go look.

Nothing but feathers.

I am in awe. Amazed by the destruction and the eerie scene. I wish I knew a CSI to help me discover the culprit, a determined beast who has pried open the pen door every night since. Frustrated no doubt, because now I always close the wooden coop door.

***

Christmas morning Maria was pleased to hand me the envelope she decorated with pictures of us both, plus trees and curly lines. Inside was a gift certificate to a skin-care salon, a gift from my husband and my daughter.

“Mommy, it is so you can go get your skin back to your younger days.”
I glance sideways at my husband.
His palms are up in defense.
“I swear I only told her it was for a facial.”

Honestly, I am just glad my 6-year-old daughter realizes I, indeed, had younger days.