Dear Oma and Tante,
I am surrounded by morons. I think it comes from upbringing.
On Saturday, Mama shut my finger in the door. She opened the pantry door, and there was this interesting little crack by some neat little hinges that I just had to explore.. Then Mama closed the door. When it didn’t close the first time, she closed it harder. That resistance? It was Mr. Pointer.
You would think that I would scream and cry and bleed and sob and leave tears and snot and blood on Mama’s shirt.
You would be wrong.
I just said, “GIMME THE RONNIE LOTT!” and went back to playing.
OK, maybe I cried just a little while I said it.
On Sunday, we went to church. God must have turned his back for a minute, and so did Mama. Miss Mirjam put me on a picnic bench made for little girls. It wasn’t made for this little girl, though. I went bottom-over-teakettle and landed on my back. You would think that I would cry and sob and have a knot on my head.
You would be right.
On Monday, I learned how to say, “Hi!” This is a good thing, right? Well after I did it, Mama and Sabrina kept popping their heads around the corner and saying, “Hi!” “Hi!” “Hi!” “Can you say Hi?” “Can you say Hi?” “Can you say Hi?” like a bunch of hysterical hyenas. Why would I say “hi” again? I just said “hi.” I'm not an idiot.
After that, I took a bath with sister. Now, I know I’m not supposed to stand up in the bath, but did big sister really need to pull my legs out from under me to “help” me sit down? And why was
she crying afterward? I’m the one with the bruise where my forehead hit the tub.
Finally, the light fixture. Oh, the light fixture.
I might have told you—Mama is on a home improvement tear. Mama has been painting and replacing doorknobs and putting in new lights and fans and generally improving the beejesus out of this house.
Daddy keeps saying, “what’s wrong with white?” but Mama goes to Lowe’s and comes back and says, “Watch the children.” Then the whole room is all a mess and paint and drills and dust until she is done.
The other day Mama said, “How long does it take for this house to get so messy?” “About as long as it takes you to go to Lowe’s,” said Daddy.
Well, this week Mama has been putting in new kitchen lights. First, she put in one light. And it worked. Then she put in two more lights that go together. And they sometimes worked. But sometimes not. Then, Mama tried for a hat trick. This time, it was the light in the breakfast nook.
First, Mama “turned off” the breaker marked "breakfast nook," and then tried to wire the light. Maybe Mama can't read, judging from the puff of soot, the popping noise, the sparks, and the darkness.
So Mama worked backward. She got the non-working lights working, the circuit breaker back to normal, and the soot off her hands. Then she double-checked the breaker box and “turned off” the breakfast nook breaker again. And she tried to wire the light again.
This time she got fried like a thanksgiving turkey.
Daddy said, “would you PLEASE call an electrician before you electrocute yourself?”
All those sparks must have convinced Mama to stop touching things and open the checkbook because she called a very nice man named “David’s Electric” to come and undo whatever bad things she did and to fix the stuff she had already done and to mark the breaker box with the right words.
When Mr. David Electric came in he asked Mama, “So, where did you get your electrical license?” She said, “law school.” They both laughed and were thick as thieves after that.
After Mr. David Electric put everything to right, Mama said she didn’t need him to do the light, thankyouverymuch, she could do it herself.
After that, she turned off the power to the whole house just for good measure and sister and I couldn’t watch a show or anything. That’s OK, though, ‘cause Mama was her own show. There was sweat and struggle and maybe I’m not allowed to say all the words she said.
I don’t think “Hi” was one of them.
After a really long time and some weird positions and lots of tools and some bad words the whole big thing was up and wired and Mama flipped the switch and said, “Ta-DA!”
But nothing happened.
Mama cried and took to her bed with a glass of wine. Then she called that nice electrician and told him to come back.
Today Mr. Electric came back with his coveralls and gloves and drills and ladder and got up high to see what Mama did wrong. We watched and waited to see what evil thing had stymied Mama. Mr. Electric was very nice when he told her what went wrong.
The light bulbs were burned out.
Mama laughed and asked him to wire the new fan while he was at it and laughed and wrote a check.
Mama says next up is a new kitchen sink and kitchen faucet.
Mr. Electric gave Mama the name of a good plumber.
Just in case.
Love,
Little Linnea Lou-Hoo
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