Uh-Oh.

 “What is it?” Mom’s concerned voice trickled down the hall to my room.

Without conscious thought, I scrambled from my bed and hit the hall already at a full run.

We live in Sally’s house.

Dealing with Sally’s escapades on a nearly daily basis.

I’m totally justified in my overreaction.

I skidded around the corner, catching the handle of the fridge to stop my forward momentum.

Mom, looking rather intent, was standing by the sink, her cell phone pressed to one ear. She glanced at me and held up one finger.

I fidgeted while she continued her conversation.

Across the room, Dad was lying on the couch. Well, I’m assuming. Now he was slowly rising, his eyes on Mom.

“Oh. Well, that’s good,” Mom said.

I swiveled to look at her again. The pinched ‘Sally’ look had been replaced by the relieved ‘Sally’ look. There are no other looks.

It was obvious that, whatever Sally (and by association, Mort) were up to, it wasn’t something Mom had to deal with.

I relaxed and Dad sank back to the couch and, once again, picked up the book he had been reading.

Mom pressed ‘end’ and smiled at the two of us. “Well, that was a whole lot of nothing,” she said brightly.

You have to understand the ‘speak’ in our house. “Whole lot of nothing’; is code for: ‘Sally hasn’t done anything that’s gotten her arrested today hallelujah’.

“What’s Sally been doing?” I asked.

“Oh, well, she has a day off from shooting, so she and Mort are wandering a fairground in Munich, seeing who can find the biggest pretzel and dancing to the latest Schlager hits—whatever that means.”

“Schlager is music, Mom. Bright. Lively. I rather like it.”

“Ah. She says if her shoot goes over, she and Mort are going to try to take in Octoberfest.”

I shivered as Dad and I exchanged a glance. Sally at Octoberfest? Someone would be shipping her home in a barrel.

“So what would the two of you like for breakfast? When will Peter be here?”

Dad and I looked at each other. Okay, we are the weirdos of the family. Both of us like a hearty bacon and eggs and pancakes and waffles and maybe steak breakfast.

Mom and Sally and Mort prefer something lighter.

And way more sugary.

Peter is still on the fence. Easily swinging both ways.

“He’s probably on his way. He doesn’t have to work until later today.”

“Well, I’ll just do the usual then?”

Dad grinned at her. Steak and eggs and waffles, it was.

I opened the fridge and dragged out a grocer’s tray of ribeye steaks, which I threw on the indoor grill and painted with my favourite sauce.

Say what you will about people with money, living with one definitely has its perks.

A knock on the front door preceded Peter’s entrance. He came over and greeted me with a quick kiss and a slow hug.

I love that man!

Then he and his uncle, my father, started to set the table as they launched into one of their long, drawn-out discussions about modern government and the state of all branches of the modern military.

You have to know that Dad (the former Uncle Pete Gunn) served many, many years in the military. Marines. Reaching the rank of Major before retiring. He definitely has some opinions.

I flipped the steaks and squirted on more BBQ sauce.

Mom and I have breakfast timed almost perfectly.

But the time I was setting the platter of steaming steaks on the table, Mom was carrying in the bowl of fluffy scrambled eggs and the plate of crispy waffles.

Okay, yes. A big breakfast makes me…poetic.

As everyone was sitting down, I thought I heard a car pull up. I hurried to the big front window and peered out.

“Who’s here?” Mom asked.

“No one. Just someone next door at the Baggins’.”

I started back toward the table, walking past the couch where Dad had been lying. His book had fallen to the floor and instinctively, I leaned over to pick it up and put it in a safe place—and glanced at the cover.

‘The Best Baby Name Book in the World’: Two thousand of the most popular Baby Names Anywhere!

I looked at Dad, who was leaning forward, talking to Mom, their hands linked romantically.

Peter was looking at me. “Gwen? Coming?”

I simply stared at him as my train of thought crashed and died on some lonely shoal.

He started to get up.

Mom and Dad turned to look at me and Dad saw the book in my hands. His face went red. No small feat for someone as deeply and permanently tanned as he was.

“Ummm…something you’d care to share with the class?” I asked. 

Today’s post is a writing challenge. Participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post—all words to be used at least once. All the posts are unique as each writer has received their own set of words. And here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now. 

My words: Oktoberfest ~ Pretzel ~ Schlager ~ Munich ~ Fairground ~ Barrel were sent to me, via Karen, from my good friend, Tamara! Thank you, my friend!

Now see what my friends have done with their words!

BakingIn ATornado     
TheDiary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver 
Climaxed  
Part-timeWorking HockeyMom