The shampoo I lather on the kids’ head is in fact the cheapest I could find. $1.50 per bottle. It’s supposed to smell like apples, and it even does without any gross chemical underlinger. The soap is cucumber and green tea, and also new today. Everything smells good. Phoenix says, quite judiciously, “That soap looks expensive, I won’t use much.” I think how Nels and I are birds of a feather and would spend our last dime on dinner with friends and a box of cheap wine to keep us company. Phoenix takes more after her dad (and my brother, it appears). More… measured. Conservative.
The bathroom is filled with steam and our large kitty Harris purrs as the kids drip water on his coat; he waits and watches with contentedly slanted demon eyes. The kids squint up at me: “It’s your birthday,” they tell me. “Do you know how old I am?” I ask. “34” replies Phoenix, her face as bright as a penny. Nels smiles, reaches for a kiss, whispers, “34”. It has some kind of meaning.
Tired. I forgot to even tell you about the whole Wishkah Valley High School / TRALI / blood donation thing yesterday. Surreal. Ralph came out with me. I’m really grateful he came, as my vision swam a bit during and after my “donation” (hardly – rather three small sample vials). Very odd.