Monday, 30 March 2009
After church yesterday we went to the nice little place by the airport for brunch (pancakes-- it's Lent) and by the time we got home it was like 75 degrees and sunny and beautiful. Jessy and Lisa were Lisa's room playing (Barbies) till they heard Daddy start up the boat in the garage. Both of them went down there. Neither of them was fully dressed... which is only typical when the weather is like this.
I lay up here on top of my bed cutting out pictures and articles for the poster board part of this very ridiculous job-hunting project on 2-ft-by-3-ft poster board that we're supposed to have done for history class. I had been procrastinating this for about two weeks because I thought it is idiotic. Most people have done theirs on things like nursing and culinary arts and even farming-- and those things are easy to depict in pictures. I mean for nursing, you just go on any careers web site and they will have a picture of some woman in scrubs. How do I depict a teacher? --just some person standing there talking. I did get a little far-reaching about it by using a picture of the school board office-- in Ship Bottom, just down the Island from where we used to live, where I would most want to teach. When I took it in today no one knew where it was.
After I got done with that I went online and sat at my little round table in my panties telling people about my panties (red-and-white floral print, cotton blend, low-rise bikini... cute, yes). It was that warm. At supper time I put on my cover-up shirt. Jessy did the same thing. Lisa had on a t-shirt. In the middle of supper a little thunderstorm hit. It actually turned to hail, prompting Daddy to get up for a 'window check' to see if it was hard enough to break glass. (Sometimes it can. It happened to us when we were at Lewes.) But that passed into a strong rain, then a lighter rain, finally a drizzle, leaving a pure, clean sky out above the ocean. I was at my round table by the window till it was fully dark, just gazing out at it.
The result is that it got cold... really cold. This morning was nothing like spring. I wore a skirt and warm tights and my leather patchwork jacket, and Roger drove us in so I could carry my stupid career project. It was windy and for a moment I almost lost it. Mother insisted I wrap it in a big green bin liner which fluttered and finally tore in the short walk in to the building. Then I had to carry it round with me till fourth period. People kept asking what it was. It was awkward and embarrassing.
When it came to fourth period, the teacher had each of us stand up and say a few words about what we had chosen to put on the board and what it meant... naturally. I found that many people had not got their projects done. (Why could I not have been one of them?) I was surprised-- actually stunned-- to find how many people liked mine. For something I waited 12 days to start and then finished in less than three hours it was pretty well put together. They all went 'Oooo' and 'Ahhh' and everything. I used coloured paper as background and used bold fonts and big letters, very simple really, but sensible and eye-catching and clear, which are the main virtues of a successful poster-board project. The teacher hung it up in the room... in the front of the room, where we can continue to look at it during future classes. Well-- other people can. I have done with it.
Over lunch I sat with Jessy and her 10th-grade posse and also Petrel who is in my history class. When the others were talking about what they did yesterday Petrel asked me about my project. (Really.) She said, 'Some of us thought you were going to have some cool thing about singing and going on concert tours in foreign places.'
I looked at her. 'Really?'
She shrugged, now feeling a little silly. 'Well-- I did. Other people did. We thought it would be something about going back to England.'
I shrugged then too. Jessy was looking across the table at me. 'I don't know,' I said. 'Actually, I was only thinking that I would....'
Jessy smiled at me as I didn't know how to put it. 'She's going to move back into our old house on the beach in New Jersey and be a spinster who teaches little kids how to... what is it? --play their instruments very ill.'
I laughed-- she was paraphrasing 'Pride and Prejudice'. But she was right. 'Something like that,' I said, now feeling a little ashamed of it.
'Oh, no,' Petrel said then. 'You have to go away and do something really exciting, and romantic. You just--'
Then she realised we were all gazing at her like she had just figured out there is no Easter Bunny. Rita smiled at her. 'I know what you mean,' she said softly, putting her hand on Petrel's then. (I do not know that Petrel is that affectionate with her friends, as the other girls at the table have all become from hanging out with Jessy and me. But she probably will be more so from now on.) 'We all expect great things of Janine. She's kind of a heroine to all of us.'
I got red then. When the topic turned to what we all did yesterday during the hail storm, I was able to say I was lying round my room all day in my red-and-white floral-print panties and so felt a little less embarrassed.
...
30 March 2009
24 March 2009
'To wardrobe' = a verb meaning to use anything you already have in a creative way.
Tuesday evening, 24 March 2009
Lisa is upset. Well, wait-- I must go back.
This past weekend, Daddy drove the 1961 Buick up to New Jersey, where he keeps his cars, and brought back the 1965 convertible. The 1965 convertible is just like the one he had back in the '70s when the band was first starting out, and in that time the big blue Buick was a common sight up and down the Island. Much later in life he located another one and had it rebuilt to copy the first one. It is a metallic light blue with white lower panels, white upholstery, and a white hood (top). There are bucket seats and the manual gearchange is in the console and it has chrome wheels and lettered tyres. And it's big-- really big, the way they haven't made cars for 30 years.
Of course when he first got the jet boat back in about 1978 he had it painted to match the 1965 convertible, in the same metallic blue with a white bottom and a white flames design on the deck. So, if you are following this, you can conclude that my daddy had gone to get the 1965 convertible this weekend for a reason. On Monday morning he drove Jessy and me to school in it and then disappeared 'on an errand', but I had him figured out by the end of the school day when he came to collect us... and yes, there was a trailer-towing ball beneath the back bumper of the 1965 convertible. How did I guess? --now that he has the original boat back, he would ensure that the car truly matches the one he once had, for 30 years ago he used to tow the Buick-powered jet boat with the 1965 Buick convertible he had then. I giggled till it embarrassed him. But this is what we love about our daddy. His optimism and sentimentality have got us through some very trying times, and there isn't one of us who would ever want him to change a single bit.
Over dinner last night he announced that, with the weather improving so dramatically, he was looking forward to commemorating the start of the season by towing the jet boat with the 1965 convertible over the Ferry and up the Parkway to the beach house where we will use the boat this summer. When he gets excited like this there's no stopping him. So we all discussed who would ride in which car (for of course someone has to take pictures!) and what we would all wear for the commemorative start-of-the-season event. Since I already have a red-and-white polkadot swimsuit that matches the softball team's jerseys I decided I would find one in the same blue as the car and the boat, hopefully with a complimentary white in it too. Little Lisa said she wanted the same thing; but that was just a ruse to get to go shopping with Jessy and me because, as Mother said, Lisa already has a white one-piece that would do just fine, especially if we are in blue. Lisa is a little too little for a two-piece anyway. (I never understood that-- and never wore a two-piece myself till I was old enough to... fit one. What is the point of a 5-year-old in a bikini?)
This morning I was saying good-bye to little Lisa (which really means we were hugging the stuffing out of each other) and we looked up as Jessy descended to the front hall. My mouth dropped open, and then I started to laugh. After all, we already knew Jessy already had the perfect swimsuit to wear when Daddy takes us out on the speedboat. It's a traditional Speedo racing one-piece in the very same light blue as the car and the boat... and THIS is what she wore to school today, as a shiny light blue leotard under her little tan cotton ruffle skirt and a white shirt with the tails tied round her middle, with opaque white tights and her tan round-toed pumps. This is my sister! --wearing a swimsuit to high school! --and it was superb and yet tasteful in every way.
Mother was impressed. 'You look... cute,' she finally pronounced.
Jessy shrugged, with a cute toss of her head (and those natural curls never fall out, unless of course she lets them fall out, and either way she's stunning-- grrr). I giggled. Lisa did too, mainly because I did, and then she said, 'Is that your bathing suit?'
Jessy shrugged again. 'People wear leotards under other stuff,' she said. We know. She has. I suppose we all have-- even Mother.
'It's brilliant,' I said to her.
'Mummy!' Lisa raved excitedly then, even as Jessy and I were kissing her good-bye. 'Can I wear mine too? The white one you said I have? Can I wear it too--' now she was looking at Jessy-- 'with my little brown skirt, and a shirt tied like that... and I could wear my good church shoes-- And did I get my white tights for Easter yet? Mummy!'
Lisa is still upset over it.
...
Lisa is upset. Well, wait-- I must go back.
This past weekend, Daddy drove the 1961 Buick up to New Jersey, where he keeps his cars, and brought back the 1965 convertible. The 1965 convertible is just like the one he had back in the '70s when the band was first starting out, and in that time the big blue Buick was a common sight up and down the Island. Much later in life he located another one and had it rebuilt to copy the first one. It is a metallic light blue with white lower panels, white upholstery, and a white hood (top). There are bucket seats and the manual gearchange is in the console and it has chrome wheels and lettered tyres. And it's big-- really big, the way they haven't made cars for 30 years.
Of course when he first got the jet boat back in about 1978 he had it painted to match the 1965 convertible, in the same metallic blue with a white bottom and a white flames design on the deck. So, if you are following this, you can conclude that my daddy had gone to get the 1965 convertible this weekend for a reason. On Monday morning he drove Jessy and me to school in it and then disappeared 'on an errand', but I had him figured out by the end of the school day when he came to collect us... and yes, there was a trailer-towing ball beneath the back bumper of the 1965 convertible. How did I guess? --now that he has the original boat back, he would ensure that the car truly matches the one he once had, for 30 years ago he used to tow the Buick-powered jet boat with the 1965 Buick convertible he had then. I giggled till it embarrassed him. But this is what we love about our daddy. His optimism and sentimentality have got us through some very trying times, and there isn't one of us who would ever want him to change a single bit.
Over dinner last night he announced that, with the weather improving so dramatically, he was looking forward to commemorating the start of the season by towing the jet boat with the 1965 convertible over the Ferry and up the Parkway to the beach house where we will use the boat this summer. When he gets excited like this there's no stopping him. So we all discussed who would ride in which car (for of course someone has to take pictures!) and what we would all wear for the commemorative start-of-the-season event. Since I already have a red-and-white polkadot swimsuit that matches the softball team's jerseys I decided I would find one in the same blue as the car and the boat, hopefully with a complimentary white in it too. Little Lisa said she wanted the same thing; but that was just a ruse to get to go shopping with Jessy and me because, as Mother said, Lisa already has a white one-piece that would do just fine, especially if we are in blue. Lisa is a little too little for a two-piece anyway. (I never understood that-- and never wore a two-piece myself till I was old enough to... fit one. What is the point of a 5-year-old in a bikini?)
This morning I was saying good-bye to little Lisa (which really means we were hugging the stuffing out of each other) and we looked up as Jessy descended to the front hall. My mouth dropped open, and then I started to laugh. After all, we already knew Jessy already had the perfect swimsuit to wear when Daddy takes us out on the speedboat. It's a traditional Speedo racing one-piece in the very same light blue as the car and the boat... and THIS is what she wore to school today, as a shiny light blue leotard under her little tan cotton ruffle skirt and a white shirt with the tails tied round her middle, with opaque white tights and her tan round-toed pumps. This is my sister! --wearing a swimsuit to high school! --and it was superb and yet tasteful in every way.
Mother was impressed. 'You look... cute,' she finally pronounced.
Jessy shrugged, with a cute toss of her head (and those natural curls never fall out, unless of course she lets them fall out, and either way she's stunning-- grrr). I giggled. Lisa did too, mainly because I did, and then she said, 'Is that your bathing suit?'
Jessy shrugged again. 'People wear leotards under other stuff,' she said. We know. She has. I suppose we all have-- even Mother.
'It's brilliant,' I said to her.
'Mummy!' Lisa raved excitedly then, even as Jessy and I were kissing her good-bye. 'Can I wear mine too? The white one you said I have? Can I wear it too--' now she was looking at Jessy-- 'with my little brown skirt, and a shirt tied like that... and I could wear my good church shoes-- And did I get my white tights for Easter yet? Mummy!'
Lisa is still upset over it.
...
23 March 2009
Sweating like a pig, thank you; and yourself?
Sunday 22 February 2009
For a while after he was married Daddy used to ride a bicycle, a really nice Italian racing bike, pretty much everywhere. Using all sorts of 'excuses' to ride, like marathons and fundraisers, he crossed the state a few times on it, going both ways, and rode up into New York State and as far south as Chincoteague, just above where we live now. Then we moved to southern Delaware, and he continued to ride till Jessy was walking, or learning how to ride a bicycle herself, and by the time Mommy got sick he had stopped for some reason. Recently he has been interested in riding again, and down in the basement here at Terncote he has been using the rowing machine.
I sort of accepted a dare from Jessy to wear my new bikini for certain softball practices. The team jerseys are red with white polkadots and so is the swimsuit. And I'm totally willing to do it, because I think the little girls will think it's very cool of their coach and just because it would seem cute anyway. The one thing that would NOT be cute about it is if I did it looking as I do now... so... it is down stairs to the rowing machine with Daddy for me.
The machine has a computer on it that tells you what your time and speed would be in a standard 2-km race. A good speed for someone who does not compete too seriously would be under 9 minutes. Right now I am rowing about 9:50, which is deplorable. Daddy rows about 9:20 and he's fifty years old. Jessy came down, observed our times, and then said, 'Well, there's more to being a pretty girl than rowing fast.'
I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand and looked up at her as the rotor spun down. 'What's that supposed to mean?'
Girlishly she shrugged. 'I guess I'm saying you can get away with not being too athletic if you're pretty.'
I stared at her. She was totally serious. You would never expect it but Jessy is much more conservative than I am when it comes to gender relations. I actually believe she would be content to marry someone a little older and a lot richer who would happily support her while she bakes brownies and does aerobics to stay slim and then greets her husband at the door with no clothes on when he comes home. When you're as pretty as she is, why break a sweat?
I should say that Jessy is by no means UN-athletic-- she swims very well (and fast), she used to race karts in England, she is a good surfer and an excellent ballerina and can run almost endlessly without having to breathe through her mouth. She was also really good at football (soccer) and rounders.
I looked at her and realised she was serious... or at least trying to dare me. 'Grrrrrrrgh!' I growled, and reached for the bar and gave it a long hard pull. I cranked that stupid machine right back up to about 2:20 per 500 and concentrated on not breaking form. I did not watch Jessy but out the corner of my eye I saw her wander over and sit down on Mother's stationary bike. But she didn't ride it.
(Did I mention that The Princess was in panties? --cute ones, too, silver-and-white, satin-finish, low-rise bikini... the kind of thing only a true underwear princess would ever wear... and no, she wasn't wearing anything else because, after all, she doesn't need to.)
I pulled the full extra 500 metres at 2:27. Not bad. At last I sat back on the thing, letting go the bar and listening to the rotor spin down again. Daddy came back in then, seeing us like that, Jessy perched prettily on the completely stationary stationary bike and me bent over backwards boiling in sweat. 'Two-twenty-seven? That's good.'
'My two-k sucked,' I groaned over myself.
'At two-twenty-seven, you did a nine-oh-eight.'
'I did a nine-fifty-something!'
'Really? Okay... well... that sucks.'
Jessy laughed. 'Grrrrrrrgh!' I complained.
He leaned over and poked me gently in the bare belly. I sprang up as a reflex. 'All right,' he said. 'Go easier tomorrow, shoot for ten, and get yourself four times that beat it during the week.'
I looked at him. 'I'm not raising my target time because I suck,' I said.
'Yes, you are. That's exactly what you're doing. You're being realistic. Look, from how you're panting right now, you got a good workout. What do we care what your time is?'
I thought about that. 'I wanted to break nine,' I said.
'Why?' he asked me.
I thought. 'Because that's what I used to row, in--'
'In your old school? A year and a half ago?'
I had to think about that too. 'Yeah,' I finally said.
Jessy wagged a finger at me from behind Daddy. Daddy didn't see her. 'You're living in denial,' he told me. 'Deal with the reality and stop trying to kill yourself. You row twice a day, four days a week on that thing, you'll be gorgeous by Memorial Day.'
I made a sad face. 'I thought I was gorgeous now,' I said, pretending to be offended.
'I was trying to tell her she already is,' Jessy said.
Daddy looked at her for a moment and then back at me. 'She is,' he said. 'You are. I mean, you'll be running marathons. You handle four workouts a week on that thing, twenty minutes plus warm-ups and cool-downs, getting your time down each time... my God. You'll run rings around a marathon.'
I nodded. 'I know.'
He held up a finger at me. 'You're done today. Stretch it out, have a shower. Your mother is making supper.'
I nodded. 'Yes, Daddy.' He left. I looked at Jessy then. 'Why does he think I want to run marathons?'
She shrugged, looking pretty. 'I think he just wants you to feel healthy. And to like yourself more.'
'Whoever said I didn't like myself?'
She shrugged again. 'Personally I think you ask too much of yourself.'
I pinched my side. 'See this? This, right here? THIS is too much of myself.'
Jessy laughed. 'This is what you get for buying the polkadot bikini before you can fit into it yet.'
'Stop it,' I said.
She only laughed again. I reached down and pulled the bar back to start another 500... with vengeance.
...
For a while after he was married Daddy used to ride a bicycle, a really nice Italian racing bike, pretty much everywhere. Using all sorts of 'excuses' to ride, like marathons and fundraisers, he crossed the state a few times on it, going both ways, and rode up into New York State and as far south as Chincoteague, just above where we live now. Then we moved to southern Delaware, and he continued to ride till Jessy was walking, or learning how to ride a bicycle herself, and by the time Mommy got sick he had stopped for some reason. Recently he has been interested in riding again, and down in the basement here at Terncote he has been using the rowing machine.
I sort of accepted a dare from Jessy to wear my new bikini for certain softball practices. The team jerseys are red with white polkadots and so is the swimsuit. And I'm totally willing to do it, because I think the little girls will think it's very cool of their coach and just because it would seem cute anyway. The one thing that would NOT be cute about it is if I did it looking as I do now... so... it is down stairs to the rowing machine with Daddy for me.
The machine has a computer on it that tells you what your time and speed would be in a standard 2-km race. A good speed for someone who does not compete too seriously would be under 9 minutes. Right now I am rowing about 9:50, which is deplorable. Daddy rows about 9:20 and he's fifty years old. Jessy came down, observed our times, and then said, 'Well, there's more to being a pretty girl than rowing fast.'
I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand and looked up at her as the rotor spun down. 'What's that supposed to mean?'
Girlishly she shrugged. 'I guess I'm saying you can get away with not being too athletic if you're pretty.'
I stared at her. She was totally serious. You would never expect it but Jessy is much more conservative than I am when it comes to gender relations. I actually believe she would be content to marry someone a little older and a lot richer who would happily support her while she bakes brownies and does aerobics to stay slim and then greets her husband at the door with no clothes on when he comes home. When you're as pretty as she is, why break a sweat?
I should say that Jessy is by no means UN-athletic-- she swims very well (and fast), she used to race karts in England, she is a good surfer and an excellent ballerina and can run almost endlessly without having to breathe through her mouth. She was also really good at football (soccer) and rounders.
I looked at her and realised she was serious... or at least trying to dare me. 'Grrrrrrrgh!' I growled, and reached for the bar and gave it a long hard pull. I cranked that stupid machine right back up to about 2:20 per 500 and concentrated on not breaking form. I did not watch Jessy but out the corner of my eye I saw her wander over and sit down on Mother's stationary bike. But she didn't ride it.
(Did I mention that The Princess was in panties? --cute ones, too, silver-and-white, satin-finish, low-rise bikini... the kind of thing only a true underwear princess would ever wear... and no, she wasn't wearing anything else because, after all, she doesn't need to.)
I pulled the full extra 500 metres at 2:27. Not bad. At last I sat back on the thing, letting go the bar and listening to the rotor spin down again. Daddy came back in then, seeing us like that, Jessy perched prettily on the completely stationary stationary bike and me bent over backwards boiling in sweat. 'Two-twenty-seven? That's good.'
'My two-k sucked,' I groaned over myself.
'At two-twenty-seven, you did a nine-oh-eight.'
'I did a nine-fifty-something!'
'Really? Okay... well... that sucks.'
Jessy laughed. 'Grrrrrrrgh!' I complained.
He leaned over and poked me gently in the bare belly. I sprang up as a reflex. 'All right,' he said. 'Go easier tomorrow, shoot for ten, and get yourself four times that beat it during the week.'
I looked at him. 'I'm not raising my target time because I suck,' I said.
'Yes, you are. That's exactly what you're doing. You're being realistic. Look, from how you're panting right now, you got a good workout. What do we care what your time is?'
I thought about that. 'I wanted to break nine,' I said.
'Why?' he asked me.
I thought. 'Because that's what I used to row, in--'
'In your old school? A year and a half ago?'
I had to think about that too. 'Yeah,' I finally said.
Jessy wagged a finger at me from behind Daddy. Daddy didn't see her. 'You're living in denial,' he told me. 'Deal with the reality and stop trying to kill yourself. You row twice a day, four days a week on that thing, you'll be gorgeous by Memorial Day.'
I made a sad face. 'I thought I was gorgeous now,' I said, pretending to be offended.
'I was trying to tell her she already is,' Jessy said.
Daddy looked at her for a moment and then back at me. 'She is,' he said. 'You are. I mean, you'll be running marathons. You handle four workouts a week on that thing, twenty minutes plus warm-ups and cool-downs, getting your time down each time... my God. You'll run rings around a marathon.'
I nodded. 'I know.'
He held up a finger at me. 'You're done today. Stretch it out, have a shower. Your mother is making supper.'
I nodded. 'Yes, Daddy.' He left. I looked at Jessy then. 'Why does he think I want to run marathons?'
She shrugged, looking pretty. 'I think he just wants you to feel healthy. And to like yourself more.'
'Whoever said I didn't like myself?'
She shrugged again. 'Personally I think you ask too much of yourself.'
I pinched my side. 'See this? This, right here? THIS is too much of myself.'
Jessy laughed. 'This is what you get for buying the polkadot bikini before you can fit into it yet.'
'Stop it,' I said.
She only laughed again. I reached down and pulled the bar back to start another 500... with vengeance.
...
21 March 2009
Twittishness is contagious.
Friday evening 20 March 2009
It was colder today but I had a little fire and was sitting in here typing in my cover-up shirt. The cover-up shirt is something Mother (our stepmother) had, when she used to be our teeanged nanny, just an old cast-off men's dress shirt that you can wear over a swimsuit. Being too big, it comes down low enough that it's almost like a robe. Mine is pale blue with a button-down collar and long sleeves. It is NOT an old one of Daddy's but something I got in a charity clothing centre. I am still wearing panties (because of...) but with the cover-up shirt on I am comfortable.
Out in the side gallery I heard a curious exchange. It might have sounded like someone stepped on the cat...but we have no cat. In the first second there was a high-pitched chirp. Then there was a loud excited squeal, breaking into inane laughter, and then footfalls of bare feet and a door closed. Half laughing myself I got up to see what had happened.
Little Lisa, still naked from her own bath an hour ago, hovered in the doorway to her own room at the left end. 'She didn't see me! I wasn't looking! I wasn't!'
Across from mine the bathroom door emitted the steam of a warm shower just ended. Jessy's door was closed at the other end. There was silly giggling going on in there. Of course Josie is still staying with us, till tomorrow. I rapped gently on the door. 'Are you guys okay?'
'Eeek!' I heard.
Then Jessy called calmly. 'It's okay.'
The door was not fully closed and I pushed it open gently. Jessy's fireplace cracked softly. Jessy lay across her bed like she often does, calmly reading in a magazine by the one lamp on in the room. Behind her on the other side sat Josie, her hair in one towel, just closing, or reclosing, the other towel round her chest. By now a presence behind me told me Lisa had returned. 'Sorry,' I said. 'It sounded like a catfight was starting out here.'
'Oh, no,' Josie said, and then she smiled at me. 'It was just....'
'I think they surprised each other,' Jessy said, and then looked up, seeing Lisa cowering shyly beside my leg. 'I think that one is supposed to be in bed.'
I nodded, putting my hand on her head. 'Yes, well... sorry for that, Josie. She's quite good at wandering round where she shouldn't be... but, no harm done then.'
'It's all right,' Josie said, smiling demurely from under the big towel round her hair. 'I don't... mind.'
As I looked down Lisa was smiling over at her, feeling much better from that remark. She wants so much to be accepted... even if she seems a little in the way at times. I always say, if you have to have a little sister, let her not be a total nuisance! And Lisa really never is.
'Let's get you to bed,' I said, wrapping the shirt round myself and leading her off up the gallery. I pulled Jessy's door closed to preserve her room's warmth. 'Get yourself in there, and I will call Mother for you.'
She nodded, impetuously wrapping her arms round my legs and leaning her head upon my hip as a kind of hug. This is her way of saying 'Thank you, and I love you.'
Mother came up and tucked her in and then knocked quietly on my door. When I called she came in and said, in her tender nighttime voice, 'I'm sorry, Janine. She wants you to go in and say good-night too.'
I nodded, sitting back from the computer. 'All right.'
'Are those other two birds settled in for the night?'
I shrugged. 'Who knows? I'm sure they're fine.'
Mother leaned on the doorway to my dressing area and folded her arms across her tummy. 'You are all good girls,' she said. 'I thank God you all get on so well.'
I smiled. 'But of course.'
Then she stood up straight to go. 'Good night, sweetheart. I love you.'
'I love you, Mother.'
And I had to go in to Lisa's room to kiss her good-night then.
...
It was colder today but I had a little fire and was sitting in here typing in my cover-up shirt. The cover-up shirt is something Mother (our stepmother) had, when she used to be our teeanged nanny, just an old cast-off men's dress shirt that you can wear over a swimsuit. Being too big, it comes down low enough that it's almost like a robe. Mine is pale blue with a button-down collar and long sleeves. It is NOT an old one of Daddy's but something I got in a charity clothing centre. I am still wearing panties (because of...) but with the cover-up shirt on I am comfortable.
Out in the side gallery I heard a curious exchange. It might have sounded like someone stepped on the cat...but we have no cat. In the first second there was a high-pitched chirp. Then there was a loud excited squeal, breaking into inane laughter, and then footfalls of bare feet and a door closed. Half laughing myself I got up to see what had happened.
Little Lisa, still naked from her own bath an hour ago, hovered in the doorway to her own room at the left end. 'She didn't see me! I wasn't looking! I wasn't!'
Across from mine the bathroom door emitted the steam of a warm shower just ended. Jessy's door was closed at the other end. There was silly giggling going on in there. Of course Josie is still staying with us, till tomorrow. I rapped gently on the door. 'Are you guys okay?'
'Eeek!' I heard.
Then Jessy called calmly. 'It's okay.'
The door was not fully closed and I pushed it open gently. Jessy's fireplace cracked softly. Jessy lay across her bed like she often does, calmly reading in a magazine by the one lamp on in the room. Behind her on the other side sat Josie, her hair in one towel, just closing, or reclosing, the other towel round her chest. By now a presence behind me told me Lisa had returned. 'Sorry,' I said. 'It sounded like a catfight was starting out here.'
'Oh, no,' Josie said, and then she smiled at me. 'It was just....'
'I think they surprised each other,' Jessy said, and then looked up, seeing Lisa cowering shyly beside my leg. 'I think that one is supposed to be in bed.'
I nodded, putting my hand on her head. 'Yes, well... sorry for that, Josie. She's quite good at wandering round where she shouldn't be... but, no harm done then.'
'It's all right,' Josie said, smiling demurely from under the big towel round her hair. 'I don't... mind.'
As I looked down Lisa was smiling over at her, feeling much better from that remark. She wants so much to be accepted... even if she seems a little in the way at times. I always say, if you have to have a little sister, let her not be a total nuisance! And Lisa really never is.
'Let's get you to bed,' I said, wrapping the shirt round myself and leading her off up the gallery. I pulled Jessy's door closed to preserve her room's warmth. 'Get yourself in there, and I will call Mother for you.'
She nodded, impetuously wrapping her arms round my legs and leaning her head upon my hip as a kind of hug. This is her way of saying 'Thank you, and I love you.'
Mother came up and tucked her in and then knocked quietly on my door. When I called she came in and said, in her tender nighttime voice, 'I'm sorry, Janine. She wants you to go in and say good-night too.'
I nodded, sitting back from the computer. 'All right.'
'Are those other two birds settled in for the night?'
I shrugged. 'Who knows? I'm sure they're fine.'
Mother leaned on the doorway to my dressing area and folded her arms across her tummy. 'You are all good girls,' she said. 'I thank God you all get on so well.'
I smiled. 'But of course.'
Then she stood up straight to go. 'Good night, sweetheart. I love you.'
'I love you, Mother.'
And I had to go in to Lisa's room to kiss her good-night then.
...
20 March 2009
Castle Field.
Friday 20 March 2009
Some time ago I promised my blog readers I would let them in on a secret and then I honestly forgot I said that and the secret never got spilt. Please forgive me-- this is what I was going to tell you about.
Since we came back from England Daddy has wanted to try a little 'experiment' and broke ground on it last fall. There is a tract of land immediately to the south of ours that he was able to buy up with the stipulation that he could NOT built residences on it. But he already had a plan for something else.
We all got into softball a lot during the two or three years we were home-schooled in Delaware. We didn't have PE class and so joining a team was valuable for a lot of reasons. It became a lot of fun for the whole family. Daddy found out how inexpensive it is to support a team and vowed that if he ever had the property to do it he would build a playing field and give the kids a really nice place to call home. And so was created Castle Field.
Castle Field is a modest but well-equipped girls' softball stadium. It is intended to host two, possibly three teams, specifically 5-6-7, 8-9-10, and 11-12-13. It has permanent stadium seats for about 150 people. At each end is a flat terrace for like a barbecue area. The dugouts are low in front with a 'secret door' to the locker rooms. Under the guests' side is a snack bar, some really nice restrooms, and the guests' locker room. Just to one side of the backstop is an actual tower, identical to the top two floors of the tower where Lisa's room is, with a real announcer booth at the top-- hence, 'Castle Field'.
Under the home- team's side is a weight room and offices for coaches. The individual players' lockers are these really cool stainless-steel forms that Daddy designed. The whole place is a soft grey and white colour scheme. The home team's locker room has a wide red stripe round the top of the wall because red and white are our team's colours. While it is set up only for girls' softball, Daddy designed an annexe on the home team's side with more locker-room space and another workout room for when J.J. is old enough to join a team.
The best part is that Jessy and I will both be assistant coaches. Jessy chose the 5-6-7 team. They are called the Ladybits. They have red t-shirts and cute pale grey pants. The 5-6-7 league is a 'coach pitching' league. Jessy is perfect for that age group... and Lisa will be on the team.
I have chosen to co-coach the 8-9-10 league. We are called the Ladybugs. We wear red jerseys with white polkadots. The caps and jerseys will be done next week. We have already drafted to the team and have a lineup of eleven girls. (The league assigns the players to the teams. We just coach and host them.) We will be looking for two more for when practice starts next weekend.
We are leaving the 11-12-13 team till later, to be made up of players who advance from the Ladybugs. They will be called The Ladybirds. (It's all 'lady' as in the ladies of the castle.) I will probably move up and co-coach them while Jessy moves up with Lisa. Lisa is phenomenally excited over this. As of right now she wants to play about 15 field positions.
We all contributed to most of the phases, from the layout of the field to the kind of food we will serve there. Mother came up with the uniforms and the colour scheme. It was almost red-and-black, like a ladybug, but we all thought that was too severe for nice little girls. My job is to be the den mother (ha!). I will teach them to be polite as well as sportsmanlike and our coach and his wife, who played on an NCAA college team, will teach them the major skills.
The first team meeting is Saturday the 21st... at Castle Field. I'll get to meet everyone and show them round what will be their team home. Then we'll go out for water ice [wink]. The first practice is Saturday the 28th. They will be on Saturday mornings till Easter and then we'll have them after school or in evenings till the season begins the first week of May.
The worst part of all this is that last month I found (and bought) a red-and-white polkadot bikini. Jessy dared me to wear it to practices, 'just to stir things up'. I wonder what kind of role model that will make me. Jessy's friend Josie says it might be more positive than I think. 'Everyone likes a pretty girl who cares about little kids,' she says. That of course describes herself. But, as to me... we shall see....
...
Some time ago I promised my blog readers I would let them in on a secret and then I honestly forgot I said that and the secret never got spilt. Please forgive me-- this is what I was going to tell you about.
Since we came back from England Daddy has wanted to try a little 'experiment' and broke ground on it last fall. There is a tract of land immediately to the south of ours that he was able to buy up with the stipulation that he could NOT built residences on it. But he already had a plan for something else.
We all got into softball a lot during the two or three years we were home-schooled in Delaware. We didn't have PE class and so joining a team was valuable for a lot of reasons. It became a lot of fun for the whole family. Daddy found out how inexpensive it is to support a team and vowed that if he ever had the property to do it he would build a playing field and give the kids a really nice place to call home. And so was created Castle Field.
Castle Field is a modest but well-equipped girls' softball stadium. It is intended to host two, possibly three teams, specifically 5-6-7, 8-9-10, and 11-12-13. It has permanent stadium seats for about 150 people. At each end is a flat terrace for like a barbecue area. The dugouts are low in front with a 'secret door' to the locker rooms. Under the guests' side is a snack bar, some really nice restrooms, and the guests' locker room. Just to one side of the backstop is an actual tower, identical to the top two floors of the tower where Lisa's room is, with a real announcer booth at the top-- hence, 'Castle Field'.
Under the home- team's side is a weight room and offices for coaches. The individual players' lockers are these really cool stainless-steel forms that Daddy designed. The whole place is a soft grey and white colour scheme. The home team's locker room has a wide red stripe round the top of the wall because red and white are our team's colours. While it is set up only for girls' softball, Daddy designed an annexe on the home team's side with more locker-room space and another workout room for when J.J. is old enough to join a team.
The best part is that Jessy and I will both be assistant coaches. Jessy chose the 5-6-7 team. They are called the Ladybits. They have red t-shirts and cute pale grey pants. The 5-6-7 league is a 'coach pitching' league. Jessy is perfect for that age group... and Lisa will be on the team.
I have chosen to co-coach the 8-9-10 league. We are called the Ladybugs. We wear red jerseys with white polkadots. The caps and jerseys will be done next week. We have already drafted to the team and have a lineup of eleven girls. (The league assigns the players to the teams. We just coach and host them.) We will be looking for two more for when practice starts next weekend.
We are leaving the 11-12-13 team till later, to be made up of players who advance from the Ladybugs. They will be called The Ladybirds. (It's all 'lady' as in the ladies of the castle.) I will probably move up and co-coach them while Jessy moves up with Lisa. Lisa is phenomenally excited over this. As of right now she wants to play about 15 field positions.
We all contributed to most of the phases, from the layout of the field to the kind of food we will serve there. Mother came up with the uniforms and the colour scheme. It was almost red-and-black, like a ladybug, but we all thought that was too severe for nice little girls. My job is to be the den mother (ha!). I will teach them to be polite as well as sportsmanlike and our coach and his wife, who played on an NCAA college team, will teach them the major skills.
The first team meeting is Saturday the 21st... at Castle Field. I'll get to meet everyone and show them round what will be their team home. Then we'll go out for water ice [wink]. The first practice is Saturday the 28th. They will be on Saturday mornings till Easter and then we'll have them after school or in evenings till the season begins the first week of May.
The worst part of all this is that last month I found (and bought) a red-and-white polkadot bikini. Jessy dared me to wear it to practices, 'just to stir things up'. I wonder what kind of role model that will make me. Jessy's friend Josie says it might be more positive than I think. 'Everyone likes a pretty girl who cares about little kids,' she says. That of course describes herself. But, as to me... we shall see....
...
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