Let me begin with a shaky foundation. I bought the trio (Todd, 10; Tess, 9; Tanner, 6) Kindle Fires. They have the ability to text from those contraptions. Their cell phones have been lost, broken, not replaced (yet). My phone has a rather loud "Pirate Jig" ringtone and my text alert sounds like a "clang" heard at your local fire department. I am not a morning person.
BUT...I am a smothering, over involved Grandmother.
SO... After a weekend visit, the usual hugs, kisses, see you next weekend , I love you's and "call anytime" I unknowingly sealed the deal that I just might never sleep until sunrise again.
BECAUSE... This morning, my text alarm clanged at 7:02 A.M. That startled me out of a rather pleasant dream. UGH. I managed to grope and grab my phone after knocking the alarm clock (never used), some papers, a pen, two paper clips, an emery board, three flash drives, two prayer books, a photo of my grandparents, a bracelet and a glass of water off of my night table onto the floor. The text was from Tess: "Good morning Meme (may-may)! I love you! I'll talk to you later!" So, one eyed, stiff fingered, I replied something to the effect: "Good morning pretty Princess! I love you too!" I gently closed my eyes. At 7:18 A.M., the Pirate Jig, not to be outdone, rattled me. "Hello?" Todd: "Meme! Is Tessie bothering you? I told her that texting would wake you up. Your text thingie is so loud! I'll talk to her about bothering you early in the morning!" Ah-ha...is it me? "Todd, I was up anyway". (Oh sure, let's see now - America's top lies: 1. "the check is in the mail" 2. "you can tell me anything" and 3."I was up"), so no worries. Are you getting ready for school? Better have some breakfast and I'll talk to you when you get home!" Todd: "Okay, love you, bye!" Click. I settled under the covers again, ignoring the mess on the floor. I snuggled in just right, when, you guessed it...a text followed quickly by the jig! Tanner, before I could speak : "Meme! Todd grabs the phone before me! Tess said that I can't text you while she is because that's too much at once and your phone will break! I think that they make stuff up and grab the house phone faster because I'm the baby!" Oh boy. "Tanner. It's true that you are the youngest. But, you are no baby, because you have those two figured out! Quick Fingers and Bossy Bloomers have nothing on you!" Giggling: "I love you, Meme! You are always right!"
When children are 6, adults are right. When they are 10 until, oh maybe yesterday (talking to my 36 year old son), not so much! Of course, call or text anytime and I'll remind you!
Laura Macy Author & Actress
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Sunday, February 16, 2014
THIS WILL BE RECORDED FOR QUALITY ASSURANCE AND TRAINING PURPOSES
How many of us has phoned "Customer Dis-Service", oh, excuse me -"Customer Service"? If one is on this planet, at one time or other, this experience, this exercise in exasperation, has been "enjoyed."
Usually,the joy ride begins like this: You phone "Customer Service" with a problem. Before you do, you logically think the entire mess through in order to sound intelligent, methodical in order to talk the "representative" through the swamp of dishonest disgust in which you are forced to wade. A phone connection is made with five options to press buttons to "serve you more effectively". Only the English option is valid, the rest does nothing to address your issue. After pressing "O" enough, you hear: "Thank you for contacting ____customer service. Your call is important to us, so please stay on the line and your call will be answered in the order in which it was received." Then, you hear, "All calls are recorded for quality assurance and training purposes." Now, right there, I challenge any and all companies, if calls were truly used for accuracy and training, one would think that someone would learn something and clean up the rather poor, badly lacking comedy show...the "get the hook" act is so old, stale, and basically ironically sad and insulting to the consumer. Shabby comes to mind. And so, you are placed on "ignore" and if your call was important, you wouldn't be placed on ignore right out of the box! The music that is played, apparently is geared to agitate an unhappy customer to the point of hysteria. Horrid, offensive, abrasive music finds it's resting place in customer dis-service "hold" lines. Finally, totally incomprehensible syllables spill into your ear. After at least seventeen attempts on your part, pleading and apologizing: "I'm sorry, I don't understand you! Is there someone who can speak reasonably understandable English?" (in those grass shacks with coconuts and strings...no, you can't say THAT) Finally, a representative who has marginal command of General American English takes you on. As a rational, mature adult, you begin your tale of woe after introducing yourself. Whoa! Whoa! "Spell you name please." Name spelled, story begins. Whoa! Whoa! "Please may I have your full address and verify your zip code." Address reported. Zip code fine and dandy, story begins. Whoa! Whoa! "The county?" UGH. You reveal the county. (Why?) "May I have your phone number please, area code first?" Now, after all of that, you begin the reason that you are calling. Whoa! Whoa! "E-mail address?" You patiently (yeah, sure) give your e-mail address and are told that it is not a valid e-mail address. The fact that you have received e-mails with that address for twenty years and that you are receiving e-mails on your phone at that address while you are being told that it is not a valid e-mail address is not relative, I suppose. After a sparing match, I finally say: "I don't have an e-mail address."
There you go! Do I have an order number, shipment number, item ID number, transaction number, authorization number, reference number, receipt number? NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO,NO! "How can I help you?" Whew! Finally! By now, you have spent three days trying to make a connection in order to ask a question. You have missed your child's first step, the first day of school, the birth of your second child and dinner!
So, you explain the "nature of your call." You are stopped, challenged, made to repeat yourself. You try to explain in other terms, answer questions and are told: "We'll get back to you." OH NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!!! You demand to speak to a supervisor who is always in a meeting. Now, I believe that my publisher, my cell phone carrier, FragranceNet.com, Amazon have parties/meetings together scheduled for supervisors all at the same time. Occasionally they meet with the billing department supervisor of my Doctor's office, the cable company's supervisor and any government agency supervisor (or not) and yuck it up together while you are waiting, because, if you do not "remain on the line" (aka IGNORE), you will never hear from any "customer dis-service supervisor" EVER! And, if you try to phone back, you have to go back to square one and begin at the very first "hello" at the start of the loop from deep, dark, tangled gyrations suffered in the previous paragraphs! So, you wait and wait as you begin looking for a machete, a lead pipe or two or a sub-machine gun to attempt achieving a little attention and "blow off steam", after you've emptied your wine bottle. Finally, you have a 50/50 shot and someone gets on the phone with a marginal vocabulary, fair language skills and whose IQ just might reach the temperature of the room. BUT...you have to explain your name, address, zip code, county, phone number all over again. Apparently, he/she is incapable of pressing "play" to hear the "recording". And then he/she gets slick: "E-mail address?" Ah-ha! you learned that you don't have a valid e-mail address from the last round in this ring...'None" you boast proudly. Snarky pants sitting in "supervisor's" chair: " So, you are telling me that ____________@____.com is not your e-mail address? I will have to transfer you to..." "NO! NO! NO! My e-mail address is: ____________@____.com, but I was told that it is not valid. When I said that I don't have one, I was still connected to the service department. Don't make me start this mess all over again! And further more, why is my e-mail address an issue? I am not phoning about e-mails, my problem is..." Then Ms. Snippy launches into : "Mam! Mam! " (I hate that) "This is for your own security! We respect privacy and security!" The Yahoo address worked just fine, Mam. Now, your mother's maiden name please?" How is your identity protected with Mom's name when I never filled that out when I bought the items (in a brick and mortar store)
in question? UGH!!!
Now, the fancy talking really begins. Let me share my latest experience:
For Christmas, I bought the trio (Grandchildren: Todd, 10; Tess, 9; Tanner, 6) Kindle Fires. I walked into Staples during a sale. Three grandchildren = three Kindle Fires. In the snappy boxes containing these electronic contraptions, only the Fires and USB cables were nestled. The actual plug for the cord ($25 each) and cases (starting at $50 are sold separately, thank you very much. By mid January, Tanner's wouldn't charge (loose port) and Todd's had no sound! So, we trooped to Staples. A nice saleswoman handed us a phone number: "Here's the phone number for Amazon Customer Service (Apparently, Amazon is the sponsor of the Swindle Fire line of torture) You will be able to resolve all of your issues in a phone call." Sure after 1. The check is in the mail and 2. You can tell me anything. I will not repeat the previous paragraphs, but actually, they accurately retell my experience. I was told: "We'll send you replacements. You must return the damaged Kindle Fires in the boxes in which the new ones are shipped. We are e-mailing you shipping labels immediately." (you know, to the invalid e-mail address? don't go there). After removing the replacements, place the returns in the boxes, USB cords, use the shipping labels and bring them to an authorized UPS shipment facility. We will take your credit card number and only if within a week, we do not receive the old Kindles, we will charge you for the new ones." This conversation occurred on Monday, January 13. On Tuesday, I received two new Kindles. On Wednesday, January 15, the defective testaments to technology were on their way back to the Thieves (without Ali Baba) Cave. I thought, "Hot Diggity!" The trio danced to "The Bird is the Word", performed Virtual Surgery, played games, built in Minecraft. In spite of the insanity with Customer Dis-Service, life was good.
Until:
February 16. A month after the Customer Dis-Service polka and shipment watusi. An e-mail from Amazon was in my in box stating that my credit card will be charged for an unreturned Kindle! Without rocket fuel and before I shed my boosters, I launched into space! I spent an hour in the scenario that I described in the beginning of this blog (again). I endured the music, the questions, retold the story 1,000 times, give or take. I stressed that if my previous calls had been recorded, they could pull from the archives my information. I also had to resort to telling "Debbie" (supervisor...got to her in 32 minutes of hellish music) that I was a finger away from hitting "send" to the BBB for this after I talk to my bank. My attorney would then tap dance because of fraud and theft. Well, well...all resolved. I asked for a confirmation of the solution, no charges, etc. She said she would e-mail it to me. Yep, the same "invalid" e-mail address through which the threatening letter was sent. Go figure. She made the mistake, after I saw the confirmation on my screen, to ask: "Is there anything else that I can do do help you? I apologize. You made sense." With every possible fiber of my being, I maintained rational restraint and replied: "Lose the abrasive, annoying, obnoxious music and please DO BE SURE that "this conversation was recorded for quality assurance and training purposes" instead of replays for amusement around the water cooler. Common sense is severely lacking. Language is a problem. Please record that for quality assurance and training purposes!
Usually,the joy ride begins like this: You phone "Customer Service" with a problem. Before you do, you logically think the entire mess through in order to sound intelligent, methodical in order to talk the "representative" through the swamp of dishonest disgust in which you are forced to wade. A phone connection is made with five options to press buttons to "serve you more effectively". Only the English option is valid, the rest does nothing to address your issue. After pressing "O" enough, you hear: "Thank you for contacting ____customer service. Your call is important to us, so please stay on the line and your call will be answered in the order in which it was received." Then, you hear, "All calls are recorded for quality assurance and training purposes." Now, right there, I challenge any and all companies, if calls were truly used for accuracy and training, one would think that someone would learn something and clean up the rather poor, badly lacking comedy show...the "get the hook" act is so old, stale, and basically ironically sad and insulting to the consumer. Shabby comes to mind. And so, you are placed on "ignore" and if your call was important, you wouldn't be placed on ignore right out of the box! The music that is played, apparently is geared to agitate an unhappy customer to the point of hysteria. Horrid, offensive, abrasive music finds it's resting place in customer dis-service "hold" lines. Finally, totally incomprehensible syllables spill into your ear. After at least seventeen attempts on your part, pleading and apologizing: "I'm sorry, I don't understand you! Is there someone who can speak reasonably understandable English?" (in those grass shacks with coconuts and strings...no, you can't say THAT) Finally, a representative who has marginal command of General American English takes you on. As a rational, mature adult, you begin your tale of woe after introducing yourself. Whoa! Whoa! "Spell you name please." Name spelled, story begins. Whoa! Whoa! "Please may I have your full address and verify your zip code." Address reported. Zip code fine and dandy, story begins. Whoa! Whoa! "The county?" UGH. You reveal the county. (Why?) "May I have your phone number please, area code first?" Now, after all of that, you begin the reason that you are calling. Whoa! Whoa! "E-mail address?" You patiently (yeah, sure) give your e-mail address and are told that it is not a valid e-mail address. The fact that you have received e-mails with that address for twenty years and that you are receiving e-mails on your phone at that address while you are being told that it is not a valid e-mail address is not relative, I suppose. After a sparing match, I finally say: "I don't have an e-mail address."
There you go! Do I have an order number, shipment number, item ID number, transaction number, authorization number, reference number, receipt number? NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO,NO! "How can I help you?" Whew! Finally! By now, you have spent three days trying to make a connection in order to ask a question. You have missed your child's first step, the first day of school, the birth of your second child and dinner!
So, you explain the "nature of your call." You are stopped, challenged, made to repeat yourself. You try to explain in other terms, answer questions and are told: "We'll get back to you." OH NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!!! You demand to speak to a supervisor who is always in a meeting. Now, I believe that my publisher, my cell phone carrier, FragranceNet.com, Amazon have parties/meetings together scheduled for supervisors all at the same time. Occasionally they meet with the billing department supervisor of my Doctor's office, the cable company's supervisor and any government agency supervisor (or not) and yuck it up together while you are waiting, because, if you do not "remain on the line" (aka IGNORE), you will never hear from any "customer dis-service supervisor" EVER! And, if you try to phone back, you have to go back to square one and begin at the very first "hello" at the start of the loop from deep, dark, tangled gyrations suffered in the previous paragraphs! So, you wait and wait as you begin looking for a machete, a lead pipe or two or a sub-machine gun to attempt achieving a little attention and "blow off steam", after you've emptied your wine bottle. Finally, you have a 50/50 shot and someone gets on the phone with a marginal vocabulary, fair language skills and whose IQ just might reach the temperature of the room. BUT...you have to explain your name, address, zip code, county, phone number all over again. Apparently, he/she is incapable of pressing "play" to hear the "recording". And then he/she gets slick: "E-mail address?" Ah-ha! you learned that you don't have a valid e-mail address from the last round in this ring...'None" you boast proudly. Snarky pants sitting in "supervisor's" chair: " So, you are telling me that ____________@____.com is not your e-mail address? I will have to transfer you to..." "NO! NO! NO! My e-mail address is: ____________@____.com, but I was told that it is not valid. When I said that I don't have one, I was still connected to the service department. Don't make me start this mess all over again! And further more, why is my e-mail address an issue? I am not phoning about e-mails, my problem is..." Then Ms. Snippy launches into : "Mam! Mam! " (I hate that) "This is for your own security! We respect privacy and security!" The Yahoo address worked just fine, Mam. Now, your mother's maiden name please?" How is your identity protected with Mom's name when I never filled that out when I bought the items (in a brick and mortar store)
in question? UGH!!!
Now, the fancy talking really begins. Let me share my latest experience:
For Christmas, I bought the trio (Grandchildren: Todd, 10; Tess, 9; Tanner, 6) Kindle Fires. I walked into Staples during a sale. Three grandchildren = three Kindle Fires. In the snappy boxes containing these electronic contraptions, only the Fires and USB cables were nestled. The actual plug for the cord ($25 each) and cases (starting at $50 are sold separately, thank you very much. By mid January, Tanner's wouldn't charge (loose port) and Todd's had no sound! So, we trooped to Staples. A nice saleswoman handed us a phone number: "Here's the phone number for Amazon Customer Service (Apparently, Amazon is the sponsor of the Swindle Fire line of torture) You will be able to resolve all of your issues in a phone call." Sure after 1. The check is in the mail and 2. You can tell me anything. I will not repeat the previous paragraphs, but actually, they accurately retell my experience. I was told: "We'll send you replacements. You must return the damaged Kindle Fires in the boxes in which the new ones are shipped. We are e-mailing you shipping labels immediately." (you know, to the invalid e-mail address? don't go there). After removing the replacements, place the returns in the boxes, USB cords, use the shipping labels and bring them to an authorized UPS shipment facility. We will take your credit card number and only if within a week, we do not receive the old Kindles, we will charge you for the new ones." This conversation occurred on Monday, January 13. On Tuesday, I received two new Kindles. On Wednesday, January 15, the defective testaments to technology were on their way back to the Thieves (without Ali Baba) Cave. I thought, "Hot Diggity!" The trio danced to "The Bird is the Word", performed Virtual Surgery, played games, built in Minecraft. In spite of the insanity with Customer Dis-Service, life was good.
Until:
February 16. A month after the Customer Dis-Service polka and shipment watusi. An e-mail from Amazon was in my in box stating that my credit card will be charged for an unreturned Kindle! Without rocket fuel and before I shed my boosters, I launched into space! I spent an hour in the scenario that I described in the beginning of this blog (again). I endured the music, the questions, retold the story 1,000 times, give or take. I stressed that if my previous calls had been recorded, they could pull from the archives my information. I also had to resort to telling "Debbie" (supervisor...got to her in 32 minutes of hellish music) that I was a finger away from hitting "send" to the BBB for this after I talk to my bank. My attorney would then tap dance because of fraud and theft. Well, well...all resolved. I asked for a confirmation of the solution, no charges, etc. She said she would e-mail it to me. Yep, the same "invalid" e-mail address through which the threatening letter was sent. Go figure. She made the mistake, after I saw the confirmation on my screen, to ask: "Is there anything else that I can do do help you? I apologize. You made sense." With every possible fiber of my being, I maintained rational restraint and replied: "Lose the abrasive, annoying, obnoxious music and please DO BE SURE that "this conversation was recorded for quality assurance and training purposes" instead of replays for amusement around the water cooler. Common sense is severely lacking. Language is a problem. Please record that for quality assurance and training purposes!
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
THE DOCTOR IS IN!!!
For Christmas, I bought my grandchildren: Todd, 10; Tess, 9; Tanner, 6 Kindle Fires. I found them on sale and thought that I made a real coup! I did the happy dance at the savings until I purchased three chargers and three cases. Todd downloaded at least 1,000,000 "Apps" for WWE and Minecraft, including music. Tess found cute animal things and really good hip-hop and pop music. Tanner acquired the aptitude for some kitchen or bakery things and then started dancing around to: "The Bird Is The Word" !!! I thought that the dance party would never end!
Until...
Tess began downloading decorating "apps" such as "Baby Room Makeover". Todd was developing the knack for laughing like a hyena over some office chaos game and "Kill the Boss" thing. Tanner, well, what do you think of "Toilet Time"? They just loved teasing me with an "app" that made a shattering/breaking sound and the screens would then look cracked. Oh well, different? Maybe?
Until...
I overheard the children, riding in the back seat of my car, discussing surgery, very seriously. They were consulting each other about all sorts of major operations and the implements that they needed. It sounded as if they were surgeons "assisting " each other. Having to keep my eyes on the road and diligently respecting the speed limit while looking for that skunk, Trooper Davis hiding in bushes, I could not really get too involved in the mobile hospital I was transporting.
Until...
The next morning, my e-mail in-box contained confirmations from Amazon/Kindle for:
HIP SURGERY
VIRTUAL EYE SURGERY
ZOMBIE DENTIST
NOSE JOB
TONSILLECTOMY
The trio, I suppose, will be doing their "residencies" at Amazon.com. People say that you can find anything and everything on-line, specifically on Amazon's site. My recommendation: On your next visit to your doctor, especially a possibly recently certified one, eye-ball his wall for diplomas and assorted wall ornaments from brick and mortar institutions, with which you are familiar. Chances are that he might have been riding in the back of his grandmother's car performing his first medical procedure! And, just think, on the screen before that procedure, he might have been building with the block head (literally, cube headed) Steve in "Minecraft", or playing "Toilet Time" while dancing to "The Bird Is The Word"!
Excuse me...gotta run...I don't feel well...no worries...THE DOCTOR IS IN!!!
Until...
Tess began downloading decorating "apps" such as "Baby Room Makeover". Todd was developing the knack for laughing like a hyena over some office chaos game and "Kill the Boss" thing. Tanner, well, what do you think of "Toilet Time"? They just loved teasing me with an "app" that made a shattering/breaking sound and the screens would then look cracked. Oh well, different? Maybe?
Until...
I overheard the children, riding in the back seat of my car, discussing surgery, very seriously. They were consulting each other about all sorts of major operations and the implements that they needed. It sounded as if they were surgeons "assisting " each other. Having to keep my eyes on the road and diligently respecting the speed limit while looking for that skunk, Trooper Davis hiding in bushes, I could not really get too involved in the mobile hospital I was transporting.
Until...
The next morning, my e-mail in-box contained confirmations from Amazon/Kindle for:
HIP SURGERY
VIRTUAL EYE SURGERY
ZOMBIE DENTIST
NOSE JOB
TONSILLECTOMY
The trio, I suppose, will be doing their "residencies" at Amazon.com. People say that you can find anything and everything on-line, specifically on Amazon's site. My recommendation: On your next visit to your doctor, especially a possibly recently certified one, eye-ball his wall for diplomas and assorted wall ornaments from brick and mortar institutions, with which you are familiar. Chances are that he might have been riding in the back of his grandmother's car performing his first medical procedure! And, just think, on the screen before that procedure, he might have been building with the block head (literally, cube headed) Steve in "Minecraft", or playing "Toilet Time" while dancing to "The Bird Is The Word"!
Excuse me...gotta run...I don't feel well...no worries...THE DOCTOR IS IN!!!
Friday, January 31, 2014
GRANDPARENTING - A RICH MAN'S SPORT
I know, I know, money can't buy love. Money is the root of all evil. And so it goes. Sign me up for: SHALLOW. Money doesn't hurt, really. To hear: "Meme" (that's may-may), "This is the best day/night ever!" OR to be able to say: "Okay, sounds great! Let's do it!" without hesitating when asked for lessons, movies, leopard, fur lined shoes dusted with glitter from Justice, new basketball shorts, etc. is exhilarating!
Let me start at the beginning of the story. My daughter, the mother of the Trio - Todd, 10; Tess, 9; Tanner, 6 announced that she would be on a Caribbean Cruise for two weeks - January 11- January 25. She also said, "Mom, you have to stay in Zanesville, because the children have school, but, I know that you will want to take them home with you on weekends." Ah-ha. Okay.
Zanesville, Ohio is a two and a half hour drive from my residence in Kettering, Ohio if I do the speed limit. Trooper Davis in West Jefferson (not quite one-half way from Kettering) is rather prickly about things like speed limits, so to be sure, it's a two and a half hour ride. Zanesville is grey, ugly, unpleasant. That may sound unfair, because Bryan's, Muddy Miser's, Florafino's, Picnic Pizza, Movement on Main, St. Nicholas parish, Bishop Fenway School are rather pleasant and so genteel. The staff of The Comfort Inn is commendable as well. The Stagecoach and The Horseshoe are rather welcoming also. The rest of Zanesville is ill-mannered, impolite, detestable and Duncan Falls Elementary School produces bullies and is proud of it! Zanesville is Naples, Florida (another Blog, a year and a half ago) without money. But, that is not what I am talking about. The only thing to do in Zanesville, is race to the border to get out!
But my new son-in-law's office is in Zanesville, thereby forcing the family to move into the pits and try to make the best of it.
The children and I had a wonderful time! Most of the school days were "snow" days! No school! But, we went to lessons (dance), signed the boys up for basket ball, shopped, frequented restaurants, took in a movie - "The Nut Job". The travelers returned home rested, tanned. Meme , not so much. Instead, I was rather exhausted, on a tight rope bordering poverty stricken, upon their return.
At the "Golden Corral", we indulged in the chocolate, white chocolate and caramel fountains while we strategized future "Darla Darling" shows. We made shopping lists during dinner at "The Stagecoach". Of course, we threw a little educational chat into the mix at "The Stagecoach" over wings and mozzarella sticks.
Todd: "Hey, Meme, did you ever ride in a stagecoach when you were little?" Happy to share a story, I told them about "Frontier Town" in New York State. "Mo, Meme! I mean, did you go anywhere in one? What's a stagecoach anyway?" I assured the Trio that I was not that old and that it was an old-fashioned Greyhound Bus. The differences: the driver rides on top, not inside; the driver steers with reins, not a steering wheel; the horses pull to power in front rather than the engine with horse power inside. Todd needed a black dress shirt and a logo-free, non-hooded sweat shirt or top for his new school's uniform and uniform gym attire. Calvin Klein, thank you very much! Tess saw great shoes in "Justice" - glitter leopard, fur lined - got 'em! Tanner needed dress shoes - no problem. At "Bob Evans", we made a mouth watering shopping list and tore up Krogers, Riesbeck's (Instant Dino Oatmeal...dinosaurs "hatch" from "eggs" when boiling water is added). We dined at"The Horseshoe" and then zipped through "Dairy Queen" to take home dessert. Both boys needed basket ball shorts and Pirouette (Tess' Bearded Dragon) needed crickets. Tess reminded me that the list that she created to replenish items in the "Ducky" bathroom was marking a place in the book I was reading. Hmmm. I had to transfer all of my receipts into a separate, roomy tote bag after purchasing Todd eight T-shirts, since on one snowy day, we used all of his while silk screening cool designs! After lunch at Steak N Shake, we picked up new socks and a light to heat the Shrinky-Dink oven. Two weeks, not including three tanks of gas, totaling $550 for our adventures did not rattle me much...until...
The boys have a tall dresser. A brand new, not yet connected, flat screened TV was perched on top. Evidently, it was too close to the edge. The top drawer was stuck. I yanked. I have quick reflexes and caught the tumbling TV in my forearms. Whew! I thought, - near miss! I have quick reflexes, but not quick enough! Short story, long...I am now on the hook for a new television. The screen cracked!
Restaurants, food stores, drug stores, clothes, shoes, socks, T-shirts, basket ball shorts, paint, crazy gizmos from the Dollar Store, a specialty bulb for the Shrinky-Dink oven, movies AND a television: $1200. Snuggling with the Trio, laughing, playing, just sharing time: PRICELESS. I would not trade the kisses, hugs, "I love you's" for the world.
But, I am here to tell you: GRANDPARENTING IS A RICH MAN'S SPORT not meant for the weak!
Let me start at the beginning of the story. My daughter, the mother of the Trio - Todd, 10; Tess, 9; Tanner, 6 announced that she would be on a Caribbean Cruise for two weeks - January 11- January 25. She also said, "Mom, you have to stay in Zanesville, because the children have school, but, I know that you will want to take them home with you on weekends." Ah-ha. Okay.
Zanesville, Ohio is a two and a half hour drive from my residence in Kettering, Ohio if I do the speed limit. Trooper Davis in West Jefferson (not quite one-half way from Kettering) is rather prickly about things like speed limits, so to be sure, it's a two and a half hour ride. Zanesville is grey, ugly, unpleasant. That may sound unfair, because Bryan's, Muddy Miser's, Florafino's, Picnic Pizza, Movement on Main, St. Nicholas parish, Bishop Fenway School are rather pleasant and so genteel. The staff of The Comfort Inn is commendable as well. The Stagecoach and The Horseshoe are rather welcoming also. The rest of Zanesville is ill-mannered, impolite, detestable and Duncan Falls Elementary School produces bullies and is proud of it! Zanesville is Naples, Florida (another Blog, a year and a half ago) without money. But, that is not what I am talking about. The only thing to do in Zanesville, is race to the border to get out!
But my new son-in-law's office is in Zanesville, thereby forcing the family to move into the pits and try to make the best of it.
The children and I had a wonderful time! Most of the school days were "snow" days! No school! But, we went to lessons (dance), signed the boys up for basket ball, shopped, frequented restaurants, took in a movie - "The Nut Job". The travelers returned home rested, tanned. Meme , not so much. Instead, I was rather exhausted, on a tight rope bordering poverty stricken, upon their return.
At the "Golden Corral", we indulged in the chocolate, white chocolate and caramel fountains while we strategized future "Darla Darling" shows. We made shopping lists during dinner at "The Stagecoach". Of course, we threw a little educational chat into the mix at "The Stagecoach" over wings and mozzarella sticks.
Todd: "Hey, Meme, did you ever ride in a stagecoach when you were little?" Happy to share a story, I told them about "Frontier Town" in New York State. "Mo, Meme! I mean, did you go anywhere in one? What's a stagecoach anyway?" I assured the Trio that I was not that old and that it was an old-fashioned Greyhound Bus. The differences: the driver rides on top, not inside; the driver steers with reins, not a steering wheel; the horses pull to power in front rather than the engine with horse power inside. Todd needed a black dress shirt and a logo-free, non-hooded sweat shirt or top for his new school's uniform and uniform gym attire. Calvin Klein, thank you very much! Tess saw great shoes in "Justice" - glitter leopard, fur lined - got 'em! Tanner needed dress shoes - no problem. At "Bob Evans", we made a mouth watering shopping list and tore up Krogers, Riesbeck's (Instant Dino Oatmeal...dinosaurs "hatch" from "eggs" when boiling water is added). We dined at"The Horseshoe" and then zipped through "Dairy Queen" to take home dessert. Both boys needed basket ball shorts and Pirouette (Tess' Bearded Dragon) needed crickets. Tess reminded me that the list that she created to replenish items in the "Ducky" bathroom was marking a place in the book I was reading. Hmmm. I had to transfer all of my receipts into a separate, roomy tote bag after purchasing Todd eight T-shirts, since on one snowy day, we used all of his while silk screening cool designs! After lunch at Steak N Shake, we picked up new socks and a light to heat the Shrinky-Dink oven. Two weeks, not including three tanks of gas, totaling $550 for our adventures did not rattle me much...until...
The boys have a tall dresser. A brand new, not yet connected, flat screened TV was perched on top. Evidently, it was too close to the edge. The top drawer was stuck. I yanked. I have quick reflexes and caught the tumbling TV in my forearms. Whew! I thought, - near miss! I have quick reflexes, but not quick enough! Short story, long...I am now on the hook for a new television. The screen cracked!
Restaurants, food stores, drug stores, clothes, shoes, socks, T-shirts, basket ball shorts, paint, crazy gizmos from the Dollar Store, a specialty bulb for the Shrinky-Dink oven, movies AND a television: $1200. Snuggling with the Trio, laughing, playing, just sharing time: PRICELESS. I would not trade the kisses, hugs, "I love you's" for the world.
But, I am here to tell you: GRANDPARENTING IS A RICH MAN'S SPORT not meant for the weak!
Friday, December 27, 2013
SHHH!!! (You Don't Recognize Me!)
I am an artist. I am an author. I am an actress. These things are what I do. My father would like me to get a "real job", but I create. Of course, success is measured AFTER the check for any of the "jobs" granted by any of the three CLEARS the bank. That is my life. I love my life. Except, this season, it has been a little stressful.
I will explain. I had been hired as Mrs. Claus at a rather prestigious shopping area - The Greene. I had been Mrs. Claus there before in one of the stores: Von Maur. I was cast as Mrs. Claus for "Cookies and Stories with Mrs. Claus"...no Santa. This year, I was cast as Mrs. Claus with two different Santa's for the month. I would read stories, sing songs entertain children waiting to talk to the Chief. I had to arrive in my costume and depart in my costume. No Problem!
Yeah, right...
One Saturday (14th to be exact) I was to be Mrs. Claus at 2:15 until 4:30. It was my weekend for the children to stay with me. The TRIO - Todd, 10; Tess, 9; Tanner, 6 undoubtedly believe in Santa Claus. (Sh, so do I). I would be mud if I were to reveal my Christmas Season alter-ego! So, I phoned a friend (Suzanne) and recorded a voice mail: I would like to make a reservation at the Spear's costume storage, bath house and changing facility to transform from Mrs. Claus to ME before going home on Saturday, so the children don't see what I am doing. And, while I'm at it, I will leave the costume at your house, return after Church on Sunday and change, work, return and change. In other words, friend, you are to me as the phone booth is to Superman!" I then conned a friend into picking up the children. By the time they all got to the house, I was back, as me and it worked out so well.
Sunday was another story. We had festivities at Church and Sunday school. I had to serve at Mass. The children were with me, of course. I had to escape for a two hour Santa gig again! (12-2). So, I had a friend, deliver the following scenario that I created. "Hey! Kids! Why don't we ditch Meme" (that's may-may) "for a little while after Mass so that we can get her a present for Christmas? Then, we'll meet her later for lunch!" I am so clever, but it did drag an Episcopalian into the Catholic Mass for the morning to seem natural. He was going to take them to have a picture taken with Santa for me too! NOT AT THE GREENE! the trio loves intrigue, secrets, silliness and they bit - hook, line and sinker! So, after Mass, I stepped over the elderly and infirm, knocked over a multitude of children, raced like a lunatic out of Church (well, maybe not that frantic). I broke the speed of light an sound records to run into Suzanne's , change and get to the Greene! When Santa stood at 2 pm and announced that we had to go and feed the reindeer, I could not get out of there fast enough as I smiled, waved, jingled my bell wreath and blew kisses to the departing children! I plunged into my car and had it racing before I closed the door. I jumped the hurdle of Suzanne's cat, Frank (my favorite of her three cats and used to me schmoozing), undressed as I ran up the stairs to the room where I had left my clothes. I changed, brushed my hair (the wig is tough on bangs). Back in my car, as if auditioning for the i Indy 500, my Pirate Jig rattled my phone., "Meme! Are you home missing us? We're on our way and we're going to all have pizza there to watch a movie, okay? Smoothly, I said: "Oh good Tess! I've been waiting for you and wondering when you would be back! What are you up to?" She passed the word and the three were giggling because they apparently pulled something over on me!
As I innocently lounged on the couch, before the Trio came in, I had two thoughts about all of this:
1. I don't think that my grandmother was a quick change artist, speed demon (well, she didn't drive) and so slick. I doubt that she could have been so harmlessly deceptive. Could she have pulled this off? She was so calm, a lady, genteel. Would she be such a cracker jack as myself with hot pepper up her petootie? I don't think that I'm your Mama's Grandmother.
2. When I was a little girl, I was in awe of Santa. I would get so nervous/excited to approach and I was so mystified by just being in his presence. Mrs. Claus was not as prevalent when I was young, but, when the two of them did show up together, I found it magic! I was enchanted by such an amazing. loving, jolly couple. I am on the other side of the costume now, with a crazy life of drama, glitches tucked deeply into my petticoat. Do I impress children as I was impressed? Do they find me magical, enchanting?
In the meantime..."Shhh!!! You don't recognize me!"
I will explain. I had been hired as Mrs. Claus at a rather prestigious shopping area - The Greene. I had been Mrs. Claus there before in one of the stores: Von Maur. I was cast as Mrs. Claus for "Cookies and Stories with Mrs. Claus"...no Santa. This year, I was cast as Mrs. Claus with two different Santa's for the month. I would read stories, sing songs entertain children waiting to talk to the Chief. I had to arrive in my costume and depart in my costume. No Problem!
Yeah, right...
One Saturday (14th to be exact) I was to be Mrs. Claus at 2:15 until 4:30. It was my weekend for the children to stay with me. The TRIO - Todd, 10; Tess, 9; Tanner, 6 undoubtedly believe in Santa Claus. (Sh, so do I). I would be mud if I were to reveal my Christmas Season alter-ego! So, I phoned a friend (Suzanne) and recorded a voice mail: I would like to make a reservation at the Spear's costume storage, bath house and changing facility to transform from Mrs. Claus to ME before going home on Saturday, so the children don't see what I am doing. And, while I'm at it, I will leave the costume at your house, return after Church on Sunday and change, work, return and change. In other words, friend, you are to me as the phone booth is to Superman!" I then conned a friend into picking up the children. By the time they all got to the house, I was back, as me and it worked out so well.
Sunday was another story. We had festivities at Church and Sunday school. I had to serve at Mass. The children were with me, of course. I had to escape for a two hour Santa gig again! (12-2). So, I had a friend, deliver the following scenario that I created. "Hey! Kids! Why don't we ditch Meme" (that's may-may) "for a little while after Mass so that we can get her a present for Christmas? Then, we'll meet her later for lunch!" I am so clever, but it did drag an Episcopalian into the Catholic Mass for the morning to seem natural. He was going to take them to have a picture taken with Santa for me too! NOT AT THE GREENE! the trio loves intrigue, secrets, silliness and they bit - hook, line and sinker! So, after Mass, I stepped over the elderly and infirm, knocked over a multitude of children, raced like a lunatic out of Church (well, maybe not that frantic). I broke the speed of light an sound records to run into Suzanne's , change and get to the Greene! When Santa stood at 2 pm and announced that we had to go and feed the reindeer, I could not get out of there fast enough as I smiled, waved, jingled my bell wreath and blew kisses to the departing children! I plunged into my car and had it racing before I closed the door. I jumped the hurdle of Suzanne's cat, Frank (my favorite of her three cats and used to me schmoozing), undressed as I ran up the stairs to the room where I had left my clothes. I changed, brushed my hair (the wig is tough on bangs). Back in my car, as if auditioning for the i Indy 500, my Pirate Jig rattled my phone., "Meme! Are you home missing us? We're on our way and we're going to all have pizza there to watch a movie, okay? Smoothly, I said: "Oh good Tess! I've been waiting for you and wondering when you would be back! What are you up to?" She passed the word and the three were giggling because they apparently pulled something over on me!
As I innocently lounged on the couch, before the Trio came in, I had two thoughts about all of this:
1. I don't think that my grandmother was a quick change artist, speed demon (well, she didn't drive) and so slick. I doubt that she could have been so harmlessly deceptive. Could she have pulled this off? She was so calm, a lady, genteel. Would she be such a cracker jack as myself with hot pepper up her petootie? I don't think that I'm your Mama's Grandmother.
2. When I was a little girl, I was in awe of Santa. I would get so nervous/excited to approach and I was so mystified by just being in his presence. Mrs. Claus was not as prevalent when I was young, but, when the two of them did show up together, I found it magic! I was enchanted by such an amazing. loving, jolly couple. I am on the other side of the costume now, with a crazy life of drama, glitches tucked deeply into my petticoat. Do I impress children as I was impressed? Do they find me magical, enchanting?
In the meantime..."Shhh!!! You don't recognize me!"
IT'S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR!!!
Early in the morning of Saturday, December 7, I sat in the middle of a circle of Christmas "to do's". The Trio (grandchildren - Todd, 10; Tess, 9; Tanner, 6) were not going to be visiting for another week. So, I, leisurely in my jammies, sipped my coffee while I assessed the projects that surrounded me. Dreamily, I mentally listed: Christmas cookies to bake, tree to decorate, house to decorate, Christmas linens to excavate, purchase a fresh wreath for this year's edition ( I have done a new themes each year for...well, for as long as I could count down for my driver's license ), decorate the wreath, select which Gingerbread House to bake, construct and decorate. We don't mention shopping and wrapping. I began to plan my strategy as I drained the coffee pot.
And then...
My phone's ringtone is a Pirate Jig. That Cellular Wonder danced its way across the "war " table, while the music accompanied the choreography. I snatched the phone with my free hand, still clutching the coffee mug in the other. I connected, but remained mute because immediately: "Hi Meme!" (pronounced may-may) "We are coming over to spend the night now! Do you have your tree up? We'll do it for you if you don't. We'll find everything if you have it all put away still! Do you want me to do the wreath, the boys are not good at it. Well, maybe Tanner can help. No, let's not let him, he's a pest. Did you finish Pirouette's stocking?" (Pet Lizard). "I can help you sew the beads on it! Let's go to Steak N Shake for dinner and have family movie night! You always have popcorn, right? Do you have Taylor Ham for breakfast? I can help you bake cookies and we'll have fun! We have Sunday school, right? Didn't you say you bought a new dress for me? I'll wear that one tomorrow. We're packing! I love you! We'll meet you in Columbus!" (Half way between Zanesville, where they live and Kettering, where I live) Click!
What just happened? My reverie was shattered with Tess and her announcements. Really? Picking up children? When? As I considered returning the call for a time table, the Pirate Jig sounded loud and clear. "Hello?" Todd, with a shred of maturity, sort of: "Meme. We're coming over for the night. We'll meet you in Columbus at three o'clock Mommy said. Same place, Okay? Hey Meme, you have our Dorothy Lane Kid Club Cards don't you? Let's pick up our free cookies, meat, crackers, cheese, snacks that we can with cards, okay?" Tessie said we're going to Steak N Shake. I'm going to have a green shake with dinner. Gotta pack! I love you!" Click. So now, we would do some food shopping to take advantage of our Kid Club Cards, in addition to Tess' list of to do's.
Can you guess what happened next? Of course you can. The Pirate Jig repeated a few fancy steps. "Hello?" Tanner: "Meme! Tessie said that you and Tess will be busy getting ready for Christmas! I told her that Todd and I can help! Tessie said that I'm too little and he's too big!" Oh, and so it begins: "Tanner, put Tess on the phone." The next voice I heard was Todd: "Meme! Tess talked to you already! We are almost ready, but Mom is going to give us lunch first, because it's too far away from three o'clock." Oh boy. "Todd, put Tess on the phone whether I spoke to her already or not! I talked to you a minute ago too!" Finally: "Hi Meme!" I'm bringing my new black shoes to go with the new dress..." I was getting dizzy: "Tess, it's Christmas! Todd and Tanner can help us!" Tess: "Yeah, but Meme, they're stinky boys!"
I picked up the excited, holiday crazed trio on time. We kissed and hugged, happy to see each other. Bags were tossed into the trunk. Toby Keith, Jersey Boys, ABBA and the Village People dominated the disc player. Chatter, stories, outshouting each other. We were rocking!
We stopped at Dorothy Lane Market as soon as we got into town. We popped into Steak N Shake where we planned the evening, as if we were generals around a war strategy table. Todd selected a full, heavy wreath, Tess put it in the car and Tanner proudly paid the tree lot people for our treasure. We hustled home. As if I shook a tumbler of Parcheesi dice, the trio exploded into the house. They scattered to access the decorating task at hand. The boys found the ornaments. Tess bossed, Todd moved cartons and put them on a small dolly. Tanner bounced the boxes, bungeed onto the dolly, up the stairs proudly. Trip after trip! The house looked like a Christmas warehouse of chaos. They reminded me of three balloons that I blew up, forgot to tie off, let go as they deflated spinning and darting all over the room! Tess and Tanner sorted ornaments. Onto the lit, but un-decorated tree, Todd (balancing on a step stool, on tippy-toes) struggled to place the Angel on the top! So desperately did he want to do that. I gave him a boost. He He felt so special and proud. Ornaments were loaded onto the tree branches with amazing speed and efficiency. They sang Christmas Carols, stood back to admire their work, rearranged a few things and asked me to stretch and balance where they could not quite reach.
Other decorations were placed at their professional discretion. I placed silk poinsettias on various picture frames. I hung embroidered Christmas scenes that I had sewn and framed. We placed floating candles, Christmas candles everywhere. We decorated the bathroom, the two tall plants that look more like palm trees and are taller than I with lights and white and silver decorations. The children spread about their Christmas projects that they had made over the years and that I kept. We decorated the wreath in silver and white and hung it proudly on the door. The children thought it was funny when I decorated my witch's hat that is perched on my broom stick at the frond door with white poinsettias and white holly berries.
With the fireplace crackling, we sat back with hot chocolate, chattered "replays" of the evening and admired our work. As we snuggled on the couch and giggled, I knew that this would be a wonderful, happy Christmas. I was off to such a treasured start!
It's the most wonderful time of the year... whenever we're together!
And then...
My phone's ringtone is a Pirate Jig. That Cellular Wonder danced its way across the "war " table, while the music accompanied the choreography. I snatched the phone with my free hand, still clutching the coffee mug in the other. I connected, but remained mute because immediately: "Hi Meme!" (pronounced may-may) "We are coming over to spend the night now! Do you have your tree up? We'll do it for you if you don't. We'll find everything if you have it all put away still! Do you want me to do the wreath, the boys are not good at it. Well, maybe Tanner can help. No, let's not let him, he's a pest. Did you finish Pirouette's stocking?" (Pet Lizard). "I can help you sew the beads on it! Let's go to Steak N Shake for dinner and have family movie night! You always have popcorn, right? Do you have Taylor Ham for breakfast? I can help you bake cookies and we'll have fun! We have Sunday school, right? Didn't you say you bought a new dress for me? I'll wear that one tomorrow. We're packing! I love you! We'll meet you in Columbus!" (Half way between Zanesville, where they live and Kettering, where I live) Click!
What just happened? My reverie was shattered with Tess and her announcements. Really? Picking up children? When? As I considered returning the call for a time table, the Pirate Jig sounded loud and clear. "Hello?" Todd, with a shred of maturity, sort of: "Meme. We're coming over for the night. We'll meet you in Columbus at three o'clock Mommy said. Same place, Okay? Hey Meme, you have our Dorothy Lane Kid Club Cards don't you? Let's pick up our free cookies, meat, crackers, cheese, snacks that we can with cards, okay?" Tessie said we're going to Steak N Shake. I'm going to have a green shake with dinner. Gotta pack! I love you!" Click. So now, we would do some food shopping to take advantage of our Kid Club Cards, in addition to Tess' list of to do's.
Can you guess what happened next? Of course you can. The Pirate Jig repeated a few fancy steps. "Hello?" Tanner: "Meme! Tessie said that you and Tess will be busy getting ready for Christmas! I told her that Todd and I can help! Tessie said that I'm too little and he's too big!" Oh, and so it begins: "Tanner, put Tess on the phone." The next voice I heard was Todd: "Meme! Tess talked to you already! We are almost ready, but Mom is going to give us lunch first, because it's too far away from three o'clock." Oh boy. "Todd, put Tess on the phone whether I spoke to her already or not! I talked to you a minute ago too!" Finally: "Hi Meme!" I'm bringing my new black shoes to go with the new dress..." I was getting dizzy: "Tess, it's Christmas! Todd and Tanner can help us!" Tess: "Yeah, but Meme, they're stinky boys!"
I picked up the excited, holiday crazed trio on time. We kissed and hugged, happy to see each other. Bags were tossed into the trunk. Toby Keith, Jersey Boys, ABBA and the Village People dominated the disc player. Chatter, stories, outshouting each other. We were rocking!
We stopped at Dorothy Lane Market as soon as we got into town. We popped into Steak N Shake where we planned the evening, as if we were generals around a war strategy table. Todd selected a full, heavy wreath, Tess put it in the car and Tanner proudly paid the tree lot people for our treasure. We hustled home. As if I shook a tumbler of Parcheesi dice, the trio exploded into the house. They scattered to access the decorating task at hand. The boys found the ornaments. Tess bossed, Todd moved cartons and put them on a small dolly. Tanner bounced the boxes, bungeed onto the dolly, up the stairs proudly. Trip after trip! The house looked like a Christmas warehouse of chaos. They reminded me of three balloons that I blew up, forgot to tie off, let go as they deflated spinning and darting all over the room! Tess and Tanner sorted ornaments. Onto the lit, but un-decorated tree, Todd (balancing on a step stool, on tippy-toes) struggled to place the Angel on the top! So desperately did he want to do that. I gave him a boost. He He felt so special and proud. Ornaments were loaded onto the tree branches with amazing speed and efficiency. They sang Christmas Carols, stood back to admire their work, rearranged a few things and asked me to stretch and balance where they could not quite reach.
Other decorations were placed at their professional discretion. I placed silk poinsettias on various picture frames. I hung embroidered Christmas scenes that I had sewn and framed. We placed floating candles, Christmas candles everywhere. We decorated the bathroom, the two tall plants that look more like palm trees and are taller than I with lights and white and silver decorations. The children spread about their Christmas projects that they had made over the years and that I kept. We decorated the wreath in silver and white and hung it proudly on the door. The children thought it was funny when I decorated my witch's hat that is perched on my broom stick at the frond door with white poinsettias and white holly berries.
With the fireplace crackling, we sat back with hot chocolate, chattered "replays" of the evening and admired our work. As we snuggled on the couch and giggled, I knew that this would be a wonderful, happy Christmas. I was off to such a treasured start!
It's the most wonderful time of the year... whenever we're together!
Saturday, November 30, 2013
OVER THE RIVER AND THROUGH THE WOODS (Well, Into the Kitchen and Through the Living Room)
I was sad that the Trio (grandchildren: Todd, 10; Tess 9; Tanner, 6) and their Mom (Tiffany, my daughter), would be in Florida for Thanksgiving. I decided that I was going to go home for the holiday. My spirits were elevated upon recalling the "Thanksgiving Song" that I learned so long ago. Nick, my son, was going to go with me. Road Trip! My parents even said that his friend and her daughter were welcome to join us! My niece, Victoria, requested that I make a "Candy Bar Pie" that she likes. Mom and Dad were a little queasy about that...My sister and I have learned: 1/ Don't touch anything in their kitchen; and 2. Bring nothing into their kitchen or to their table., So, my sister and I cooked up an elaborate plan whereby, I would make the Candy Bar Pie in Ohio, keep it still and protected in the cold trunk of my car and drive it to New Jersey. We would then make off with plastic forks, napkins, transfer it directly into her car from my trunk. Victoria, Donna and I would then drive around Packanack Lake and eat pie while Nick unloaded my car, without the Honeymooners catching us. In spite of the fact that my Dad still wonders if I will ever get a job and considers me "wacky" at best, I, for some reason, was looking forward to the family holiday. "Over the River and Through the Woods" with a Candy Bar Pie and my son...Who could ask for anything more?
BUT
Two weeks before the intended trip, Nick bowed out. "Mom, let's do Thanksgiving on Sunday, when you get back, okay? I can't be gone long, blah, blah, blah, ah- ha and so on and so forth."
I made plans to see a friend, continue with Thanksgiving at The Honeymooners'. On Black Friday, Donna and I were going to do all sorts of sisterly things. Candy Bar Pie and I were going to New Jersey for Thanksgiving!
BUT
One week before the intended trip, the weather forecast was miserable. I would be riding in a storm across Pennsylvania on the way to New Jersey and on the way back. No break in sight. It would storm while I was there. The prospect of driving ten to twelve hours alone, half in the dark...not so appealing. Donna said, "It's not a good idea to drive by yourself in bad weather, etc. I'll tell Mom for you. You know Dad will freak if you are out there in a storm by yourself!" I did put on my big girl panties though and called home: "Mom, Donna and I were talking and..." Mom, cut me right off: "Are you trying to upset Daddy? What is the matter with you thinking that you'll drive in horrific weather all alone? STAY HOME and BE SAFE!" That was easy. I called Donna and told her not to call home, I already did. My phone, with a Pirate's Jig ringtone, by the way, went off immediately after I spoke with my sister. It was Dad. "You are so wacky! Why would you put yourself at risk driving here in a storm by yourself? STAY HOME and BE SAFE!" Me: "Dad, I talked to Donna about it and to Mom, we all already decided that we'll see how Christmas week is. Okay?" He agreed and questioned when I will get a job and questioned my Candy Bar Pie intention. I assured him that I am looking for a Literary Agent, I did two commercials and that no Candy Bar Pie will cross the border into Jersey any time too soon. If it did, it would not seek entry into his domicile. Whew!
I told a friend (Jersey Side) about my dilemma. He said, "Book a flight, I'll pay half". Just tell your sister that I want to taste that Candy Bar Pie! You can make it at my house, since you can't board a plane with a Candy Bar Pie!" I heard that the airlines were going to have weather problems, but, I gave it a shot anyway. Then I remembered: I had a ticket for a flight from Dayton to Newark Airport dated last December 1! I knew that I had a year to use it. November 21 was plenty of time before December 1. So, I phoned United Airlines. "Sorry Laura, may I call you Laura? You are one day late. That ticket was purchased on November 20. You should have called us yesterday and we could have circumvented the weather and gotten you home. You had a year from PURCHASE DATE, not FLIGHT DATE. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"
The next call I made was to my son: "Hey Nick, come over on Thanksgiving for dinner on Thursday, not Sunday. I'm not going." Nick: "Great! I'll do the turkey, stuffing and the gravy. I'll bring the camera. We can use some of the photos in our cookbook. We'll go through the menu later. I love your pies! That'll be all your department. I think the Candy Bar Pie sounds interesting, but Mom, it's Thanksgiving. Save that idea for Jersey, not me! Gotta go!" Click.
My phone was getting HOT and BUSY doing it's jig all over the place. Guest list growing, weather predictions even worse and 1,000,000 of my closest friends called to tell me travel plans were OVER...Sure they would love to come to my place. Then, my friend phoned. I told him about the rogue ticket, that I didn't have half of the national budget for a small Third World country. He said: "Let me get off of the phone now and I'll just get you a flight." I hastened to tell him that now, I had my Son, half of Tipp City and Kettering, part of Oakwood coming over.
My son and the immediate world ushered in Thanksgiving Day. He and I worked side by side in the kitchen. We cooked, danced (1,000 top hits of all time on a New York Station that he had broadcasting on his "Smarter than I'll ever be phone). As we engaged in a lively conversation about glazing carrots, Lisa walked in and immediately pivoted and exited the kitchen announcing to the living room guests: "They're talking food, I'm outta there!"
Finally, as the fireplace roared with warmth, we took places at a table that stretched from Kettering, Ohio to Wayne, New Jersey. I looked around as Lisa did a blessing. I felt my grandparents, my parents, sister, niece and nephew. I missed the Trio, but silently sent my embrace. As my Son and I exchanged a glance, I knew that the path to love radiates from within us. We are all each others' Thanksgiving.
So, into the kitchen and through the living room we laughed, danced, played, ate without any Candy Bar Pie!
BUT
Two weeks before the intended trip, Nick bowed out. "Mom, let's do Thanksgiving on Sunday, when you get back, okay? I can't be gone long, blah, blah, blah, ah- ha and so on and so forth."
I made plans to see a friend, continue with Thanksgiving at The Honeymooners'. On Black Friday, Donna and I were going to do all sorts of sisterly things. Candy Bar Pie and I were going to New Jersey for Thanksgiving!
BUT
One week before the intended trip, the weather forecast was miserable. I would be riding in a storm across Pennsylvania on the way to New Jersey and on the way back. No break in sight. It would storm while I was there. The prospect of driving ten to twelve hours alone, half in the dark...not so appealing. Donna said, "It's not a good idea to drive by yourself in bad weather, etc. I'll tell Mom for you. You know Dad will freak if you are out there in a storm by yourself!" I did put on my big girl panties though and called home: "Mom, Donna and I were talking and..." Mom, cut me right off: "Are you trying to upset Daddy? What is the matter with you thinking that you'll drive in horrific weather all alone? STAY HOME and BE SAFE!" That was easy. I called Donna and told her not to call home, I already did. My phone, with a Pirate's Jig ringtone, by the way, went off immediately after I spoke with my sister. It was Dad. "You are so wacky! Why would you put yourself at risk driving here in a storm by yourself? STAY HOME and BE SAFE!" Me: "Dad, I talked to Donna about it and to Mom, we all already decided that we'll see how Christmas week is. Okay?" He agreed and questioned when I will get a job and questioned my Candy Bar Pie intention. I assured him that I am looking for a Literary Agent, I did two commercials and that no Candy Bar Pie will cross the border into Jersey any time too soon. If it did, it would not seek entry into his domicile. Whew!
I told a friend (Jersey Side) about my dilemma. He said, "Book a flight, I'll pay half". Just tell your sister that I want to taste that Candy Bar Pie! You can make it at my house, since you can't board a plane with a Candy Bar Pie!" I heard that the airlines were going to have weather problems, but, I gave it a shot anyway. Then I remembered: I had a ticket for a flight from Dayton to Newark Airport dated last December 1! I knew that I had a year to use it. November 21 was plenty of time before December 1. So, I phoned United Airlines. "Sorry Laura, may I call you Laura? You are one day late. That ticket was purchased on November 20. You should have called us yesterday and we could have circumvented the weather and gotten you home. You had a year from PURCHASE DATE, not FLIGHT DATE. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"
The next call I made was to my son: "Hey Nick, come over on Thanksgiving for dinner on Thursday, not Sunday. I'm not going." Nick: "Great! I'll do the turkey, stuffing and the gravy. I'll bring the camera. We can use some of the photos in our cookbook. We'll go through the menu later. I love your pies! That'll be all your department. I think the Candy Bar Pie sounds interesting, but Mom, it's Thanksgiving. Save that idea for Jersey, not me! Gotta go!" Click.
My phone was getting HOT and BUSY doing it's jig all over the place. Guest list growing, weather predictions even worse and 1,000,000 of my closest friends called to tell me travel plans were OVER...Sure they would love to come to my place. Then, my friend phoned. I told him about the rogue ticket, that I didn't have half of the national budget for a small Third World country. He said: "Let me get off of the phone now and I'll just get you a flight." I hastened to tell him that now, I had my Son, half of Tipp City and Kettering, part of Oakwood coming over.
My son and the immediate world ushered in Thanksgiving Day. He and I worked side by side in the kitchen. We cooked, danced (1,000 top hits of all time on a New York Station that he had broadcasting on his "Smarter than I'll ever be phone). As we engaged in a lively conversation about glazing carrots, Lisa walked in and immediately pivoted and exited the kitchen announcing to the living room guests: "They're talking food, I'm outta there!"
Finally, as the fireplace roared with warmth, we took places at a table that stretched from Kettering, Ohio to Wayne, New Jersey. I looked around as Lisa did a blessing. I felt my grandparents, my parents, sister, niece and nephew. I missed the Trio, but silently sent my embrace. As my Son and I exchanged a glance, I knew that the path to love radiates from within us. We are all each others' Thanksgiving.
So, into the kitchen and through the living room we laughed, danced, played, ate without any Candy Bar Pie!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)