Home Sweet Home

I asked Catie if I could become stylist for the flaming-red
red hair she has.

Last night the Peter and Nora Young family came over for supper.

That made 11 of us around the dinner table.

I was somewhat reminded of when we had that many people at home for supper, reminded especially of the numerous side conversations that happen among people around a large table.

At one point only Eric and I were at the table.

I did the styling but we had no two way mirror
so that she could see what I was doing.

Catherine had introduced supper saying among other things, that Sunday is the day they pull out the fancy beverages, and she proceeded to put at least six colourful bottles on the table, inviting people to take juices of their choosing.

As well she told the children that this was a day when they only had to take food they wanted. Nothing was to be put on their plate that was not of their choosing.

I think the plates were piled higher than usual.

Back to the side conversations, I asked Eric when it was that he first knew he loved juice.

As long as I have known him, I have also known that he likes juice.

She told me if I took a picture on her phone,
she could at least see what was happening back there.

In fact, sometimes when I am shopping back in Alberta, I go down the juice isle and wonder if I can find a bottle of something he hasn’t tasted before.

He laughed when I asked him the question, when is it that you first knew you liked juice?

He answered that he has always loved juice, but he thinks it was cemented when his family was on George’s sabbatical to Switzerland.

He said that the juices were plentiful and fresh and that is when he must have known how delicious they could be.

I did a good job at taking the pictures.
She couldn't leave my work in for
more than 10 minutes.

Of course George also loved juice as had George’s father, though his love was concentrated more in the fruit than the juice.

At any rate if you are here on Sunday, be prepared for a variety of drinks at the table.

Speaking of living with other families, here I am until the 9th of January.

I see something every day that is so charming and which reminds me that this is just a normal little family like any other.

Hebe hasn’t quite decided how I am fitting into the family: should I be ignored or engaged with.

I did put some chocolate chips in front of her and then turn my back and say I hoped she wouldn’t take any, as I stooped to take some flour out of the bin to make brownies.

She only took out three.

I turned back to her, asking her if she had taken any and she said, “It really wouldn’t matter for there were lots in the container for me, whether I took some or not.”

I don’t know how to get reciprocal teasing in with her, though she did try some of her own before we ate supper.

I am going to the hair magazines to see

what it was I was doing that was so wrong.

Hebe was asked to say the blessing.

I decided to watch her, not with my eyes wide open, but there was enough space left that I could see her face as she prayed.

She didn’t close her eyes at all and leaned against her mother's arm for support while she was saying the blessing.

I noted that half way through the blessing a slight smile came across her face and the regular rhythm of the blessing was interrupted and she said “And bless grandmother who is stupid”, and if not those were not the words, they were something much worse.

Her parents ignored the parenthetical addition to the blessing.

I was thrilled to see the smile that flashed across her lips before she said those words.

Maybe not the right time, but the right impulse.

Arta