I got out the ingredients, chopped the onion. A bit worried, I picked up the phone and tried to call my husband. The call wouldn't go through. Hmm. I tried again, to no avail. So, I turned on the burner, waited a bit for to pot to heat up, drizzled in some olive oil and threw in the onion. Distracted, I added a few herbes de provence and some salt and pepper, stirred it around a bit, and turned down the heat. Then I tried to call again. This time, I managed to get his voice mail, but I know from experience it's a fool's game to leave a message. So, I tried once more, but the call wouldn't go through. Rats.
I crumbled up the sausage into the mix, letting it brown with the by-now golden onion, then subjected two cans of tomatoes (one diced, one sauce) to the Swingaway. That made me think of our exchange student's fascination with this wall-mounted restaurateur's device. And when I thought of him, I thought of SMS. I wondered: if I can't get through via telephone, might I be able to send a text message to my dear husband? I tried it:
Im worried. Where r u?I pushed send and stirred my pot. Pretty soon, my phone lit up and played its little SMS jingle.
01/10/07 17:54
On our way - walking, at bakery now/
***End***
Relief-I knew they were OK and where they were! But that was still a good three miles away, which meant it would take them at least another hour to get home. It also meant our five-year old had already walked two miles, and it was past suppertime. I added wine to the sauce while I composed my next message.
Can u take a bus? Is D OK?
I filled the pasta pot with water, put in a dollop of oil and turned on the gas. The cell phone made its happy sound again:
01/01/07 18:01
We're fine, having fun, see u in 1 hr
***End***
Number One Son is relieved, as am I, and we try to think of what we can do to help. They'll be cold and tired. I know, he says, we should walk out to meet them!
Tell me when you get to 20Th and Bel Red. Well meet u at aRDMORE park
Aside: I wish I could figure out how to force lower case text entry.
01/01/07 18:11
ok, we're at ymca now
***End***
What could we bring to help warm them and feed them? Tea? Cocoa? No, too hard to drink and walk. Baked potatoes? They warm your hands, and you can eat them, but I only have boilers in the larder. Hand warmers would be good. The water boils, I open the larder to get the noodles, and there is the bin of rice. It hits me: rice hand warmers. Little One's kindergarten teacher was looking for a natural alternative to disposable hand warmers (have you seen the warning labels on them?). Google offers me Knitty Pocket Warmers. Cute and warm. Clearly, I don't have time to knit them up, but we do have time to put rice in some cloth tea bags. We zap them and they're perfect! I call the Kindergarten teacher to let her know and she's ecstatic. Then I tell her Little One is hiking home in the snow, and she is very impressed-he'll have a story to tell her when school gets back in.
I drain the noodles. Number One and I eat a plate of spaghetti and agree we'll save the rest until we're all home. On cue, the phone rings: Dear Husband is at Trader Joe's, using their phone, and do I need anything? No, I say, I just want to see you again. We figure if we head both out now, we'll meet at the park. We zap the warmers, bundle up, and set off.
How magical it is out there, with snow clinging to every twig and leaf. It's skier's dream powder, squeaky-crunchy underfoot. We trudge up the hill, past sledding teenagers and slipping cars, and at the corner the boys see each other. They break away from both of us and do the movie run-to-each-other to a brotherly hug. Then they pick up snowballs and throw them at each other.
It is 8:45 by the time we push back from the table, legs tired and bellies full of sgabetti. We don't need a phone call to tell us there's no school tomorrow. We're already thinking of food to warm our bellies between building forts and making snow angels.
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