Wordy Wednesday: The Book

Last updated on: December 7, 2016 at 9:02 am by Anne Kennedy

Wordy Wednesday: The Book 2016-12-07T09:02:12-04:00 Anne Kennedy

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Monday night I had to stay up blisteringly late–till ten o’clock or something completely ghastly. We’d had the ridiculous idea to watch a Christmas movie with the children, you know, because we hate ourselves and hate our children. That’s what it ended up seeming like after forty-five minutes of struggling with the failed Internet. Finally gave up and read them a story. And really, there’s nothing more charming than trying to read a book to a bunch of jerks who thought they would be watching a movie. What is a book, after all, especially if it doesn’t have pictures, compared to the glories of a sweeping soundtrack and people moving around and talking to each other on a sparkling screen? We suffered through the book and then they all went careening into bed and I had to sit around in the living room for a whole hour and a half waiting for them to stop coming down and asking questions.

That Itself was unusual. In our house, I always go to bed first. I used to tuck the children in, sing to them, pray for them, attend to their little souls in some kind of sickly sweet maternal haze. But after awhile I discovered that 1. By eight o’clock I am, as you might say, literally done. About even to lose my….what’s the word I’m looking for? Cool? Yeah, that’s the one. And 2. The second you say goodnight to a child and leave the room, that very child pops up out of bed with questions about the days of the week, what’s going to happen tomorrow, how can you know what tomorrow even is, what should be done to the other child who was a big meany, when will there be more bandaids available because look at all the hurts that are there without any bandaids, they all hurt I’m thirsty. “Go To Bed,” you mutter between clenched teeth. So now I go to bed and then the children “go to bed”. You can hear them sleeping silently in shrieks and bangs.

So there I sat on the couch when it was past my bedtime and the little girls looked at me like it was the end of the world. “What are you doing here?” they asked. Elphine loomed over them knowingly. “I’m staying up with your dad while he yells at that nice lady on the phone about the Internet,” I said, with no confidence in my voice. They knew this was ridiculous. I Don’t Stay Up for any reason.

Finally there was silence, basically, and I locked myself in my dreamy laundry room and cut tags off big fluffy slippers and stuffed them with chocolate coins and chocolate Santas. All the while I thought about all those holier more sensible people who just go with the chocolate coins and a nice book for all the children to share. Every year I think about those people. What got me started with all the little presents? The Russian nesting dolls? The mugs? The spoons? The pocket knives? And this year the enormous sleds and huge slippers? It’s ridiculous. They would never have even known if on that long far off ill-fated day I had just strewn about some chocolate and an orange.

So chocolate for breakfast. That set us up for a great school day. But we did do school. We did absolutely do some school. Nearly all the school. Laboring on subject by subject. Trying to pay attention to anything in the presence of slippers shaped like dogs and flamingos. And then a St. Nicholas pertinent lunch of Taco Tuesday. It’s so great watching children smear sour cream and salsa all over every surface. Out of self preservation I cleaned the kitchen myself instead of wandering away to let the little kids break everything. And I folded all the laundry as a defense against early onset mental illness. And then I rolled out some boiled pie crust einkorn dough.

It may be that I happened on some bacon in the fridge and laid it out in strips on my oblong disk. Boiled crust works so much better for einkorn than a butter, cold water one. I don’t even know how to do the boiled crust because Matt always makes it and then I roll it out and bake it. If he ever dies I will be devastated. Having to order the flour myself, but then also having to make the dough. It will be really heart breaking. Over the bacon it may be that I layered some cheddar, and then rolled it all up and cut it into one inch pieces and baked it at 375 for a while until the aroma of bacon and permeated every corner of the house. Like an idiot, though, I didn’t do it in time for tea. Which on Tuesday is always at four.

Not like high tea. Just a hefty dose of caffeine to get you through the work of the evening. On Tuesday’s a friend comes. That’s right, I have a friend. We sat and chatted about important matters which have already escaped me, only pausing every three seconds to tell lurking children to Go Away. And then, after a while, my friend produced a book from her gorgeous bag.

Now, for realz, for two days people have been texting me pictures of my book which has been arriving into their mailboxes and hands. And I’ve been gazing at them–these pictures–in wonderment. Checking the mailbox myself every few minutes. So when my friend pulled this book out of her bag I was completely amazed, and also extremely jealous. She let me hold it in my hands. And…it’s kind of heavy. About three times as thick as I thought it would be. I think she was able to see that she wouldn’t be able to pry it out of my vice grip so she left it with me “to sign” and I brought it up to my bed and read the introduction to myself and then guffawed, disturbing my dog in his sainted slumber. Because, here’s what I wrote, “This book is book is only very small, and you will eventually lose it.” Bwahahhaaaaaa. This book is a fat lunking four hundred and seventy-one page brick that you will probably pause and think about before you lug it anywhere. All this time, indeed, with every single word I bashed onto my tiny keyboard, I thought I was doing some sort of light fluffy little “devotional” which is by nature, you know, small. This thing you won’t be able to “let fall lightly away” as I also wrote. If you drop it on your toe you will do yourself a serious injury.

So, for true. I am completely amazed. I can’t really understand how I came to write it and why my name is emblazoned on the front. I hope you like it. And just as soon as I find out the website of the artist, I hope you’ll go check her out because somehow, without ever meeting me, she saw into my very soul.

Happy Reading!

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