We drove over to
to the house Owen and Jean rented, with another couple
and their kids. We drove both vehicles. She left her truck
for Balder. I drove us home in the family station wagon.
I don’t remember if the air-conditioner worked. I don’t remember if
we had two baby seats. I gave Owen $2,000 for his truck. He’ll drive it
to us Saturday when he picks the kids up and goes to the Davis Family Reunion
with us. Balder’s comimg over for the reunion, too. He’ll pick up Rowan.
No, wait. Owen and Jean came over Friday and we met at Uncle Ernie’s
for lunch. Then they went shopping for a new vehicle and found one they wanted.
Thursday I took the kids to Under the Oaks Park and they played on the slides,
the swings, and the jungle gyms. A lot of enlisted military dependents.
I was behind on my writing from housecleaning and babysitting.
I felt like I had slipped out of the middle class.
Buying and selling vehicles is stressful to me.
Men are babies. Artists are sissies. Mark Rothko
had an aneurism, didn’t feel good, and committed suicide.
I’m not that bad. Yet. But my kidney is hurting.
Possibly from too much coffee. Possibly from
dehydration. It’s hotter than the hinges of hell.
The kids played in the sprinkler.
The kids played in a plastic wading pool.
