Sometimes it’s hard to hear things in Our Little House in the summer due to the buzz of our window air conditioning unit, but Dale and I both reacted to the thunderous crash on Sunday afternoon.
Earlier in the day, we heard the buzz of two military transport helicopters flying rather low almost right over our house.
This, however, sounded like an explosion and rocked our little dwelling.
“What in the world?” I jumped up from the couch. Dale was making taco sauce and the dogs began barking.
“That had to be thunder,” he said.
“Or an explosion,” I replied.
Sundays are the days we like to just stay at home and relax. We might get some home maintenance tasks done around Our Little House, yesterday we took the recycling over to the fire station, but whatever we do usually doesn’t require much exertion.
Dale has been working lots of overtime and for the past several weeks Sunday has been his only day at home.
Whatever we do routinely involves cooking. At this time of the year, Dale will usually grill, but also for the past several weeks, we’ve fallen into the habit of making tacos on Sunday.
This week, I had to make the third trip to our new dentist since our move to Our Little House. He reminds me a lot of the man who was my first dentist (and Dale’s since we grew up in the same town).
My mother helped calm my fears of the dentist as a child, but the small town dentist also had a lot to do with it. He wasn’t scary, nor did he make the visits seem they should be.
I remember him as being older – although when you’re a kid, everyone is “older” – and a friendly, talkative type.
Like the rest of my family, my teeth didn’t seem to get a good start and I had a mouth full of cavities that usually required at least a couple of follow up visits once the obligatory cleaning and check up was completed before school began each fall. He always complimented me on my good behavior and much to my mother’s delight, complimented her as well.
Although I remember whispers of his drinking habits, he never seemed drunk when I was there and he must have done a pretty good job, as our dentist in this small town marveled at his work, some of it now more than 40 years old.
When we recently visited some of our friends in Kansas City, they proudly showed off their newly remodeled kitchen. One of the first things she pointed out was her cookie sheet cabinet.
I took a new appreciation for the fact that I was at least smart enough to install one of these in Our Little House.
I don’t care how you plan, there’s always something you forget in a construction project. Our friends down the road even forgot to design a linen closet into their home although he is a builder and they’ve flipped several houses in their lives.