Eric Bittle (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
puckandpie) wrote2017-08-03 02:11 pm
puckandpie) wrote2017-08-03 02:11 pm
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The timing is just about perfect. Classes at Barton have just started up again so I don't yet have too much homework and camp is still in full swing so I know Jack won't be home until after 4:00 at the earliest. I can't help but hope the kids are spoiling him something rotten today, can't help wondering if they brought in a cake and hung streamers and sang for him. I'll definitely be asking later but, for now, I have work to do.
It takes more than a few hours of preparation when all is said and done and the dinner is the easy part.
Eventually, though, there are five pictures hanging up on the walls, each of them wrapped in a different colored paper. Or, well. It's a fake wrapping, honestly. Just enough to cover the front so Jack won't have too much difficulty opening them, so to speak. Each picture is a photo Jack's taken over the past year or so: there's one of a little family of ducklings hanging up in the dining area, one of Elvis next to one of Macha and Shannon together in the entryway, one of about a dozen of Jack's camp kids in a dogpile hanging up by the window and a beautiful black and white one of his and my skates hanging above the television.
At the very least, there's no way he'll be able to miss them all.
I'm a little worried at first about the timing on all of it since I'm not exactly sure when Jack's going to be home, but he texts me when he's about to leave and that helps. It gives me just enough time to put on all the little finishing touches -- namely setting up the table, dimming the lights and trying to tame my cowlick one last time -- before dishing up the filet mignon and homemade poutine and grilled veggies. I put all the little tricks I've learned the past few months to use to make the most appealing presentation of both plates while I have the pie keeping warm in the oven.
I've put the little doggie blockade up in the hall to keep Macha and Shannon from trying to eat everything in sight though I feel a little bad for it when we all hear the familiar jingle of Jack's keys in the lock and they immediately start whining in anticipation.
"I'll make it up to y'all later, I promise," I tell them as I grab the celebratory bottle of wine from the bucket and rush to meet Jack at the door. "Double the milk bones tonight."
Then I turn on my brightest, warmest smile as the door opens, holding the bottle of wine up. "Happy birthday!"
It takes more than a few hours of preparation when all is said and done and the dinner is the easy part.
Eventually, though, there are five pictures hanging up on the walls, each of them wrapped in a different colored paper. Or, well. It's a fake wrapping, honestly. Just enough to cover the front so Jack won't have too much difficulty opening them, so to speak. Each picture is a photo Jack's taken over the past year or so: there's one of a little family of ducklings hanging up in the dining area, one of Elvis next to one of Macha and Shannon together in the entryway, one of about a dozen of Jack's camp kids in a dogpile hanging up by the window and a beautiful black and white one of his and my skates hanging above the television.
At the very least, there's no way he'll be able to miss them all.
I'm a little worried at first about the timing on all of it since I'm not exactly sure when Jack's going to be home, but he texts me when he's about to leave and that helps. It gives me just enough time to put on all the little finishing touches -- namely setting up the table, dimming the lights and trying to tame my cowlick one last time -- before dishing up the filet mignon and homemade poutine and grilled veggies. I put all the little tricks I've learned the past few months to use to make the most appealing presentation of both plates while I have the pie keeping warm in the oven.
I've put the little doggie blockade up in the hall to keep Macha and Shannon from trying to eat everything in sight though I feel a little bad for it when we all hear the familiar jingle of Jack's keys in the lock and they immediately start whining in anticipation.
"I'll make it up to y'all later, I promise," I tell them as I grab the celebratory bottle of wine from the bucket and rush to meet Jack at the door. "Double the milk bones tonight."
Then I turn on my brightest, warmest smile as the door opens, holding the bottle of wine up. "Happy birthday!"
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"Beep boop," I joke, making jerky robot motions with my arms. Macha licks my face and I laugh as she crawls on me, forcing me back until I have to press my elbows into the floor to brace myself. "Is that so? Our dogs have a discerning eye for art, eh?"
After awhile I disentangle myself from the dogs and whistle sharply, sending them to their beds before I pull myself to my feet. My clothes have fur and slobber on them and I give Bits a lopsided smile. "Are you still gonna want to kiss me a bunch if I smell like dog?"
My eyes drift to the covered frame over the television and my breath catches slightly, because I have no idea what could be underneath. Whatever it is, Bits decided to make it the focal point. It will probably make me cry for real.
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"I'll always want to kiss you," I tell him even as I reach out to start picking tufts of fur off his shirt, arching an eyebrow when he looks over my head and back toward the other room. Following his line of sight, I see what it is that's caught his attention and turn my grin back on him.
"Go on," I encourage him, stepping aside to lead him back toward the living room. "I think that one's my favorite, though. Maybe you should save it for last."