It has been a long time since we described any of the escapades of the children at the house but since so many of you have said, tell us some more about them, and since this is a pleasant leisurely time of year for chatting, this little interval between threshing and fall work, it is a good time to catch up on their summer doings. We have just had our "vacation", a weekend with the other grandma 100 miles away. We went down on Saturday and came back on Monday, leaving Ruth for an important two week visit. She is released from music lessons for the month of August and she feels quite grown-up, making a visit alone.
Sonny has had a ringworm on his scalp, caught from his pet calf, Quitile. It did not seem to give him any discomfort, but was an ugly and slow healing sore. Incidentally, he broke out in heat rash for a few days, and altogether looked well battered up – though to tell the truth that is more or less his normal appearance. I never saw a child who carried more scars of battle on his body at one time. Bruises, scratches, rash, blisters, splinters, bee stings, and so on. Furthermore, he both tan sunburns and freckles; but his darling little smile lights up the little battered face like a lily in bloom.
Speaking of Lilies
Speaking of lilies, our big boy, Wilbert has the baby light complexion of the family. He is tanned a little, but normally his skin is lovely white with a damask rose blush, and his hair is light and fluffy. That is, it is fluffy while he sleeps and in between meals. When he comes to the table, it is plastered down to his head with so much water that it fairly drips. He feels more masculine with flat hair. Margie Ruth is our dusky maiden – dark hair, black eyes, well browned summer skin. She is fragile in build, but hardly as a shrub. Never sick, never much banged up. Tough and active as a hickory sapling. Very practical in many ways but with a charming and amusing delicacy of fancy. She lives much of the time in a little fairy world of her own manufacture.
The other day she asked permission to get supper all alone, for the children and me (for we have early supper before the men come home from chores). When we came in from gathering the eggs we were asked to go around to the front door, take places at the dining table, and order for the menu card we would find. This was the menu:
Coffee Meiligan (French)
Pink milk Potatoes
Milkshake Peas (cold)
Eggnog Onions
Bread and butter
We were supposed to order Meiligan (French) as that's what she had. It was the hobo mixture that uncle Wilbert told us about years ago – bacon, potato, onion, and egg all cooked together. The children I are fond of it for sentimental associations more than its appearance and flavor, and on state occasions, two or three times a year, we have it. For a drink we were supposed to order milkshake as that was prepared, but the boys unexpectedly setting their hearts on eggnog, The service was delayed a little bit.
Good but Weak!
The next night Wilbert of course had to have a turn getting supper. He shut set himself up in the kitchen for a while, then brought out Ruth's same menu for us order from, but no matter what we ordered from it we had to take we had prepared, which was cheese sandwiches and lemonade. The sandwiches were neatly made, and very good, but the lemonade was somewhat weak, as he had filled in enormous white pitcher on the strength of two lone lemons. He told us with a shy smile that it was good, but a little weaker than common. He made a cup of coffee for me as the extra touch of a thoughtful chef.
Sonny was to have his turn the following night, but something more exciting turned up and his interest in cooking temporarily waned. Heaven only knows what he would've served.
A few days later, I was unexpectedly called away from home at about 11 o'clock to help cook for threshers at a neighbors. There was no time to prepare the children's dinner, but they were tremendously excited and pleased to be told that they might pack themselves a picnic basket, using any food whatever they could find in the house, and carry it up the road to eat with grandma. The only stipulation made about appropriating any food was that they think carefully before they took it whether they would rather save it for more more important time. They chose carefully and well, it seemed to me, none of the choice delicacies having been used. But it would be impossible for me to say whether those delicacies were left because of sound judgment or because of the fact that the tops were on so tight.
So the workdays run on full of fun and work of happiness and childhood troubles. We talk much of the good time we had at the other grandma's where seven little cousins were gathered for the first time, and we fill the days as best we can, looking forward to the time when sister will be home again, and bringing Aunt Grace and little cousin Peejee with her. – Hope.