I’m going to be involved in some time consuming projects for the next several weeks, so I’ve decided to post some Pearl, Grace, Pearl the dog, and Ellie/Essie stories. Some will be reruns and some will be new. I hope you’ll agree they will make for some fun summer reading.

My name is Ellie and I’m almost fourteen. That is if you consider eleven almost fourteen. I don’t live with Pearl and Grace, but I take care of Pearl the dog for them. I’m over at their rooms above the store so much, I just as well live with them. I’m on my way over there right now. I sure hope Pearl the dog isn’t too uncomfortable. I was late getting home from school today. I had to carry my heavy old saxophone home because my lesson is tomorrow, and I have to act like I practiced, so I haul it home, hoping somebody sees me so it’s not for nothing, and then I haul it back the next morning.

I sure wish there was another way. If I had known what I know now, I never would have played the saxophone. I have two reasons. Number one is it’s heavy, and number two is you have to suck on wood, which they call a reed. You have to keep buying new reeds because after you suck on them and blow air through them, they get yucky and you have to switch it out. My cousin plays the saxophone too and that’s a bad deal. He sits beside me and either socks me in the arm all of the time, or makes me laugh which gets me into trouble. It makes me mad every time I think about it!

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Later:

When I got to Sanderson’s Store, I climbed up all those stairs and knocked on Miss Grace’s door first. She hollered for me to come on in. I don’t really have to knock, but every time I just meander on in, she jumps about a mile in the air and screams. Then Pearl starts hollering from her place, and Pearl the dog starts howling and barking. Believe me, it’s much better to knock than go through all that nonsense. It’s a little better if I go to Pearl’s place first. I never have to knock on her door. She’s pretty nosy and somehow knows I’m at her door and she open’s it before I get there, then she begins to tell me how bad her day was.

According to Miss Grace, she has to do all this stuff for Miss Pearl, and according to Miss Pearl, she works her tail off taking care of Miss Grace. The truth is, I take care of both of them. Except for an occasional tip, I do it all for free. I actually think, since I’m almost fourteen now, I should start charging, but Mom says a big fat no. She says I need to train for the day she turns old. Don’t you just love how everybody has my life all planned out?

“Come on in Essie.”

See what I mean? That’s Miss Grace. I went on in.

“Miss Grace, I just wanted to let you know I’m here, but I’m late, so I need to get Pearl the dog and take her outside. I’ll come back over here when we get back.”

Did this picture scare you? It did me when I first saw it hanging in Pearl’s living room. I think it must be her mother and that’s why Pearl wears those hoot owl glasses and tries to be stylish and all flashy. She doesn’t want to resemble her mother. Some people do that. I can read Peal like a book.

When I turned around to face Miss Pearl’s door, she was standing there glaring at me, and puffing on her air cigarette. When she holds it in her mouth and puffs away, that means she’s mad. I sometimes worry that sucking in all that oxygen without breathing out much carbon monoxide, she’ll hyperventilate again. She did that one time. I was there too when her eyeballs rolled to the back of her head and she fainted dead away. I had never seen anything like it. Thankfully, she landed right and didn’t break her big-eyed glasses. Someone would’ve of had to haul her over to Pierre again to the Red Owl Store so she could get some new owl glasses. She says they’re her “statement,” and they go with her other “statements” like her millions of bracelets and wild colored clothes. When she really goes all out, she even has a cigarette holder in every color to hold her air cigarettes.

I hope I don’t sound too mean. I’m just in a bad mood. I get that way sometimes, and then I don’t act right.

I just ignored Miss Pearl’s hateful look and started petting and talking to Pearl the dog. She didn’t seem to be in a big hurry to get outside, but I sure was. I knew by the time we got back, Miss Pearl’s wrath would have subsided. She’s just like an open book that way.

Pearl the dog and I went for an extra long walk, and when we got back, guess who was there? Miss Pearl was standing in her doorway, and right across the hall, Miss Grace was standing in her doorway. Mr. Bradley Crandall was standing in the hall.

I could smell something really good cooking, but I couldn’t tell who’s kitchen it was coming from. In the time it took me to take Pearl the dog out, those two had really dolled themselves up. I knew they must have hurried, because when Miss Grace turned around she almost tripped because she only had one rubber band around her little black flats. I don’t know if it’s because they’re too big, or she doesn’t have any arches, but she cannot keep her shoes on without a rubber band. She also left one of those pink foam curlers in her hair. It was in the back where her bad cowlick is.

Miss Pearl looked pretty normal, except she was holding an ashtray and every once in a while she held it out to Mr. Crandall so he could ash his air cigarette.

You have probably already figured out that Miss Pearl and Miss Grace both lust after Mr. Crandall. It’s not like he’s the only man in town, although I can’t think of any others around who are single and almost ninety. I felt sorry for him because he must have been invited to supper, and he was waiting to see where his food was cooking. That must be a very awkward feeling.

Well, I couldn’t wait to find out how it all played out, because I had to go home and suck on my reed, so when Mom gets home from work, she’ll think I practiced. I know she checks my reed because I’ve seen her do it.

It has been a while since I posted on the blog. I have over scheduled myself. I had two of my beautiful grandsons here for several days and I’ve been trying to help out at the library. Wednesday, I facilitated an art class with too many kiddos to count. Or maybe my eyes glazed over when I saw them all. They painted a self portrait with acrylic paint. Need I say more? They had a blast, but the clean-up crew will never forgive me.

On Thursday, we had an Einstein Science Fair. I demonstrated the Whoopie Jug. You put alcohol in a five gallon jug, roll it around to coat it and drop a match inside. It whoops…loud. I think I ruined the jug, but I found one online for $37.00 so I’ll be covered. I also spilled the 91% alcohol on the floor. The lady who was teaching me, handled it very well. She finally said, “She will be putting on her goggles” loud enough to sink in.

After the fair, the boys and I swam in the lake, played putt putt golf, went to the park where they shot baskets, and got ice cream. At 9:30 p.m. they talked me into taking them to a movie that was having it’s first showing that night. It was actually pretty good. The eight year old said everything was “interesting” and he used the word, literally a lot. I’m tired of the words, Literary, Literature, literacy, and literally. Not really…I have really been enjoying myself, but you can understand why other things have been knocked off the list. 

I wrote this poem tonight. Even kids can feel it when something isn’t quite right…

Here comes the rain…

We were playing in the vacant lot and felt a cold chill.

The dark clouds hovered over us and the air was still.

Should we stay and stand close to that old shed?

Or should we run for it and find a safe place up ahead?

I was thankful the decision wasn’t mine to make.

My older cousin said the clouds would soon begin to break.

Here comes the rain…

Hours later, we were still standing by the shed.

What if lightening strikes us? We’ll all be dead!

My older cousin said that was a foolish thought.

She said I was worried all for naught.

The lightning struck this old shed years ago.

See the hole in the roof where the chimney used to go?

Yes, this place has paid the price.

And lightning never strikes the same place twice.

Here comes the rain…

It wasn’t at all like she said it would be.

A torrential rain was pouring down on me.

Our moms will think we’re the ones to blame.

We should have sense enough to come in from the rain.

I’ve learned my lesson well today.

It will be days before I’ll get to play.

I’ll show Mom how I’ll handle cousin conflict.

Then maturely ask her if she could be less strict.

That older cousin who just won’t let me be?

I’ll tell her she’s not the boss of me!

Here comes the rain…

The cutie in the pigtails just welcomed her first grandchild. He was born on our Grandpa Sanderson’s birthday…

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I would like to add that Gus went to officer training school while I’m the army and was a 2nd Lieutenant.