Sundaystuff

First, a happy fathers' day to all the dads reading this ... most especially tallin, from Seaners and me. :-) Presents were opened and enjoyed. Dinner tonight is lasagna. I'm trying the Moosewood low-fat bechamel garden lasagna, and praying I don't screw up the bechamel. I have a problem with sauces. I may have to consult Cookwise again. *worships at the temple of Shirley*

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Still hot. I'm becoming very dissatisfied with this 90F weather. It can stop any time. Thanks.

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The kittens are apparently fine - I'm basing this on the fact that we haven't seen much of Velvet at all. I suppose one benefit to this is that they're not chasing each other around like mad lunatics. Of course, later there will be kittens that will chase each other like lunatics. So this is a temporary state.

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And this week's drabblemania topic has me stymied. Hairbrush?

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And you should all go to CDBaby and buy this album (which is called 'Smiling Politely') right now.

drabblemania topic: hairbrush

(Because every boy has done this at least once, or knows someone who has ...)

"I hate the lighting in here." Anneka made a face in front of the mirror, twisting her beautiful features in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the girls' bathroom. "And would it kill them to retile the place in some colour that wasn't Spit-Up-Your-Gallbladder-Green?"
"Yes. They're doing it on purpose to keep us in class." Trish handed Anneka a purple-handled brush out of her backpack, pulling it out of the nest of English notes and granola bar wrappers, and went back to what she was doing. "They figure that if they tile the walls a colour that makes no one look good, then we'll quit fussing in front of the mirror and concentrate on algebra."
"As if." Anneka sniffed, primping with her hair.
"Nobody said it would work. Besides, would you buy these tiles for anything?" Trish replied practically, still wrestling with herself. "I bet they got them on clearance."
"Probably." Anneka rolled her eyes and snickered, reapplying her lip gloss. "What the hell are you doing?"
"My bra strap's screwed up."
"Here." Anneka sighed, handing Trish the hairbrush. "Fix your hair, and I'll fix your bra strap." She unzipped the top of Trish's lime green dress, sliding the dress' shoulder strap away to reveal red lace, and started adjusting it. "That better?"
"No, too tight."
"You have sloping shoulders, love, that's why. You should sit up straight. Posture is important." Anneka lectured, still fiddling with the strap.
"It doesn't help that that's the most annoying bra in the world." Trish rolled her eyes.
The door swung open, and a young man walked through it, a distracted expression on his face. Anneka and Trish glanced at each other for a moment; Trish put her hand up to her mouth, stifling a giggle. "Um ..."
The boy looked up, and all colour drained out of his face.
"I think you're probably lost." Anneka remarked, her early training in the arts of noblesse oblige at odds with the smirk on her lips.
"Oh, God, I'm sorry ..." His blue-grey eyes met Trish's green ones for a second as he turned, and he ran smack into a tiled halfwall before managing to find his way back outside.
Anneka and Trish erupted into fits of giggling.
"Who was that?" Anneka asked curiously, still snickering as she made some final adjustments to the bra strap and zipped up the back of Trish's dress.
"The new kid." Trish chuckled, shaking her head. "His name's Jack, I think. Evan's new roomie."
"He likes you."
"Nah." Trish shoved the hairbrush back in her bag and reshouldered it, shaking her head as they walked back into the stream of students changing classes. "Doubt it."

Another niblet from 15minuteficlets

( Today's secret word ... )

"Hi dad." Fabian smiled nervously from the doorway.
Evan was sprawled on the sofa, carefully investigating the freshness of a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips by stuffing them in his mouth two at a time. The football was on television, like it always was on Sundays, and always had been, as long as Fabian could remember when his parents had been around.
"Fabie!" Evan shouted cheerily. "Come in, come in." He pushed his black hair out of his face and opened one bright blue eye. "What's th' occasion?"
"Um, happy Father's day, an' stuff." Fabian entered the apartment, kicked off his shoes by the potted ficus tree, and settled down on the floor, folding his long legs underneath him like a crane. "Where's mommy?"
"Gone shoppin' I expect." Evan replied, rolling his eyes. "An' if we're lucky we'll even have a bank account tomorrow then. Where's yer, um ... yer husband then, an' yer wife?"
"They'll be along in a minute. They had to pick something up." Fabian fidgeted. His father was not ... homophobic, as such. More like 'homo-not-understandic.' The subject of his son's sexual preferences was like a large rain cloud that Evan elected to ignore, rather than deal with or reason against. Now that the three of them were married, it was becoming a little harder, but Evan was nothing if not stubborn. Friends and relatives claimed that they'd tried, and it was like talking to him in Urdu or Intel X86 machine language. Fabian could believe it, especially since he'd wasted an hour and a half trying to explain the esoteric reasons of why the heart bends the way it does. Evan had just looked at him as though he'd grown a spare ear. They left it well alone after that.
The door rattled, and Audra and Jakob let themselves in, settling on the floor, ducking out of the way of the television as they hid a large box behind them.
"Hello, dad-schnookiebaby." Jakob grinned.
"And hello te you too then." Evan peered at his son-in-law with an inquisitive stare. "And hello te the little miss with the multicoloured tresses. Now was there somethin', or did ye just want to watch the football?"
"We brought your fathers' day present." Audra replied simply.
"That was right nice of ye. Unless it was a tie. Then ye need yer heads examined."
Jakob shoved the heavy, flat box to sit beside the sofa. Setting aside the bowl of potato chips like a mother cat watchfully monitoring its brood, he sat up, yawned, and started tearing off the paper.
A familiar logo stared back at him. Evan crossed himself, spat because he remembered he wasn't going to do that anymore, and stared at the three of them reverently.
"Ye went an' bought me a case of Guinness?"
"Well, we couldn't really think of anything else." Fabian shrugged.
Springing off the sofa, he threw his arms around the three of them in turn, and then around the case of Guinness before he started to drag it toward the kitchen. "Sweet Jesus, I love father's day."