Susan Senator

I was able to crawl out of my black hole this morning and squint at the bright daylight and yellow leaves and think, like Dido, “It’s not so bad, it’s not so bad.”

My boy is all grown up. Eighteen years old. A man. Long, gangly, hairy arms and a beard on his face. But I went into his room before he was fully awake and I kissed and kissed him and it was like putting my lips on cake.

And speaking of cake…
Nat chose a Duncan Hines yellow cake and chocolate frosting. Benj made Nat’s cake. Ben. Yes, Ben. Well, I helped. And so did Nat. And of course there were ulterior motives, but let’s not get into that. He was really, really sweet. He was grumbling about what Nat liked as if it was all so dumb, but he kept on working at it and telling us his ideas. He had the idea of adding a rectangle of vanilla frosting on top of the chocolate frosting! Genius. Sweet B!!!!

We woke up with a bang this morning. No, not that kind! A real loud noise, like something fell over downstairs. We were scared, so we went together to check it out. For some reason, a picture had fallen off the playroom mantle and had knocked over to other things. We could not figure out why. I said, “Is Ghostie back?” And Ned said, “Maybe.”

I wonder why she is back? Our houseghost was always a benevolent presence, if a little mischievous. She seemed fond of hanging out on the second floor hallway and front staircase landing. Once Ned looked up and saw me coming down those stairs. He looked again, and there was nobody there. Another few times Little Tiny Benj complained about a “little blue ghost with a silver hat” in his room, which we think was the fire hydrant outside. But still. He constructed a ghostcatcher to get rid of it, and we thought it worked.

Until now. It could be that they were a pair, or that we have a new one? Or else it was a vibration from the heat going on. Uh-huh. I think whoever it is wants to wish Nat a happy birthday! Just next time, let us sleep a little later, okay? Boo-tiful.