DIZZY DIAL SPINNING

It is no secret that I am not exactly a baby.  Chronologically speaking, smartie pants!  I have always been able to drive any automobile planted on this fabulous planet of ours!  I borrowed Skip's souped up Charger to do my practice teaching roughly 100 years ago.  Never having a car of my own until I began teaching, I could handle Dad's Chevelle ('66) and Maverick ('70).  My cousins taught me how do drive in a '68 Impala (too big, thanks) and a something of other Covair (yes, perfect size).  I could handle my cousin's Gremlin that ran on 3 of 4 cylinders.  I can't say that I was particularly skilled, but I could handle Steve's old, old, black Impala.  Time passed...

In the Dark Ages, I signed a contract to teach in Wayne, New Jersey!  At 11 A.M., Mr. Van Dyken, the principal, welcomed me aboard.  At 1 P.M., that day, Dad and I were sitting in "Wayne Ford"...a dealership for my own car!  YES!!!  Grandpa Scillieri (aka, Ralph the Barber) had money for his grandchildren set aside.  There was the deposit!  My father lost his marbles because I was so anxious, I really wouldn't let him negotiate a good price.  No worries!!!   I had my very own, brand new, 0 miles on it, 1971 white with black vinyl roof Ford Pinto!!!!I was on fire!

In '72, Ann Banks ran a stop sign and in spite of major body surgery on my wheels, the passenger seat remained a little crooked.  By the time my son was born during the Blizzard of '78, my Pinto was a little saggy.  I held wires for the heater together with a cable stitch holder that I procured from my knitting supplies.  But, she was still mine, all mine!  The day that we sold it (or possibly paid some nice people to take it ), I crumpled up in the  driveway and cried.  Steve bought a Ford Fairmont station wagon for our new growing family.  I could handle it, but I could have lived with or without it... (okay, hitchhiking with two little children would have been a chore).  Next was a garbage can grey Audi.  Within nine months, it went back to the dealership thirteen times.  It was after that, Lemon Laws were invented.  We began a string of Mercedes...no complaint.  Ron negotiated a Malibu here in Ohio for me.  Nick, my son, drives it now.  I purchased a brand new Mazda 3 two years ago.  Read about its fate in my blog, INTO THE WOODS, OVER THE RAINBOW BRIDGE.  I began to think that I really didn't want to drive a motor vehicle again.  My "ride" about which Steve often teases really keeps me out of trouble.  But, riding a broomstick to St. Albert's is not realistic.

So, a few weeks ago, I gathered my nerve, in spite of the fact that I wanted a friend to do test driving for me at dealerships, and purchased a 2015 Chrysler 200.  Here's the glitch...  The whole contraption is loaded with buttons and dials.  There is even a weird shaped button for the emergency brake.  One can "remote" start, but to actually drive, press a button with a foot in a certain position on the brake pedal.  On a console, that the Jetsons installed before Dave earned his commission, one will find:  a dial for the radio, a dial for climate, a dial for gears, a dial to dial activation of dials!  There is a snappy screen in the what would have been known as a dashboard in another century.  Now that houses a back-up camera (now I see you Ms. Nosey with your dog),  a GPS, touch screen in case you miss a dial for the same features mentioned.  On the steering wheel, I can do everything including phone the White House...I know, I know...WHY?

Well, I tried to start the car and was rudely reminded by the gnome living inside of a dial to place my foot on the brake, press the correct control.  I turned down the radio by activating air-conditioning (it was seven degrees outside at the time).  I adjusted the "climate" by nearly throwing the thing into neutral.  The radio blasted and took out 45% of my hearing when I tried to put the thing in "drive."  I answered the phone by setting cruise control (which I never, ever would use, even if I aimed for it) and the wipers would up as blue tooth.  I adjusted wipers by the mirror control!  In other words...when I get into that car, I am a stranger in a strange dimension - just DIZZY DIAL SPINNING!

INTO THE WOODS NEAR THE RAINBOW BRIDGE

"Ms. Macy, when you are ready, you can pick up the final remains, you poor dear, but be thankful that the children and you are unharmed." I wore black, tried to keep up a Christmas spirit, attempting to sing along with carols blasting a rental car's radio. I was too nervous, numb to drive. An old faithful friend drove me to Rutherford's Auto Body Shop in Pickerington, Ohio. That was where I would say farewell to a reliable, faithful friend...my car. Upon our arrival, I was handed a bag in which I could finish clearing what I had left before the tow truck came to the Zanesville driveway. Garage door opener and ice scraper (like I had a car, never mind a windshield at this point). I sat in the car to remove a small broom riding witch from the rear view mirror. As I clung to her, I began to apologize to her, to the car, to the deer. My friend, most likely with a crowbar, eased me out of the corpse, mostly carrying me back to the shop's office. I was handed a box of tissues by the kind receptionist as a technician handed me my license plates! I was then inconsolable. Let me explain: At about 6 P.M. on December 3, my grandchildren Tess (10, Tanner (7) and I set out to go to gymnastics. Todd, their brother, eleven years old, chose to remain at home with his Mom, my daughter. So, singing Christmas carols, we drove my 2012 Mazda 3 along South River Road in Zanesville, Ohio. The four lane road parallels a river. We were on the far side, fourth lane from the river. Suddenly, "on the fourth day of Christmas" there was a thud, a severe push to the side of the road, glass, airbags commandeered the car! Tanner, riding behind me, began screaming and crying...his airbag began pushing him to the other side of the car. "Tanner, try to undo the seat belt and scoot behind Tess (riding next to me - "shot gun") Hurry, something is wrong!" Tess, the swiftest of us: "Meme! (may-may) are you okay? Call 9-1-1!" I hadn't a clue what had happened. My driver's side air bag deployed, glass was everywhere from the driver's side windows! As I turned off the engine, at the side of the road, I looked out of my windshield to see a white mist, a white fog in the loose shape of a deer! The spirit arched over my hood and dissolved! There was nothing. "Tess! Did you see that?" Crying, both children responded that the ghost of a deer was there and gone! A State Trooper recommended that I pull my car into a nearby side street. The driver's side of the car was terribly damaged. My door couldn't open, so I crawled across the car to exit. We were all unharmed. I was not scratched, cut, however, my seat was loaded with glass! The entire side no longer existed, really and there was not much left of the driver's front fender, headlight, part of the hood either. There was some fur wedged into a crevice though. A sweet woman walked over to me with a big black "thing" slung over her shoulder. "Hey M'am, where do you want your wheel well cover?" Dazed, I responded, "How about the trunk?" My son-in-law arrived with my daughter. He,trying to be helpful said: "Laura, you just can't see deer at night, you know. Hunting season has just begun and deer are running will-nilly." Gee, that made me feel better...NOT! I began to complain to the Trooper that since the deer didn't have insurance and since that poor creature was running from the river for his life, hunters should learn to go food shopping in stores and leave the deer alone! This is 2014, not pioneer days! My son-in-law assured me that he has had two deer crashes himself! Swell. My daughter, not so understanding. She began berating me for not being alert to have seen it coming, she didn't want the car returned to her driveway, that since I was a ninny, to just go home! Double swell. Tess spoke up and told her: "IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! MEME DIDN'T AIM FOR A DEER! SHE USED TO WORK AT THE ZOO AND LOVES ANIMALS! TWO DEER LIVE IN HER YARD!" Tanner, still sobbing, told her: "Hey Mom! I was looking out of my window to try to see the river and I didn't see the deer! He hit my side of the car and I didn't see him!" The Trooper looked at this collection of crazies and was extremely sorry that he didn't call in sick that evening. MY son-in-law insisted that my daughter be quiet, that we bring the car back to the house. I asked the Trooper if I could drive it 132 miles back to Kettering. He guaranteed me that: 1. it wouldn't make it - it barely turned the corner to park out of traffic; 2. illegal to drive without two headlights; 3. no visibility with airbags inflated; 4. I would freeze without windows. The scenario sounded rather bleak! Since we were only 1/4 mile from the house, my son-in-law said that he would drive the car back and I could drive his. Knowing that I would never drive again if I didn't put on my big girl panties and get behind the ailing car's wheel, I insisted that I take it back. As Mazda and I limped along, I stopped! My son-in-law, got out of his car, behind me, and approached: "Why are you stopping, here in the middle of the road?" As if he landed from Mars, I responded: "Look! All across the road, there is such a mess...the deer must be splattered all over!" He stood there, shook his head and said: "There is nothing! Drive on, or let me get in front of you and you take my car with the children." Hmmmm....strange. The Mazda and I continued. My daughter's nasty was still raging. I ignored her. Todd ran to me: "Meme! Are you okay?" I assured him that I was "righter than rain". He then replied: "Oh boy! I miss all the good stuff! I shoulda gone to watch those two flip out and around! I could have seen it all and not gone to gymnastics after all!" Ah, to be eleven! We are aware of "The Rainbow Bridge" where our pets wait to play with us again. After watching the spirit of the deer rise, I know that those poor beautiful creatures who meet accidental, untimely ends, through no fault of their own, play, forage, wait for their families if you go INTO THE WOODS NEAR THE RAINBOW BRIDGE.

EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT! (Or Not)

There are two things that I must have to jump start my day. Well, actually, just to start my day, jumping or not...COFFEE and THE DAILY NEWSPAPER! I know, I know, there are at least 1,000,000 News Programs on the television. The ultimate morning entails sipping coffee, reading the paper with The Today Show tickling the background! Now, that is luxury living at its finest! BUT... This morning, the Newspaper was not at my door! Crushed, saddened, confused, I phoned the Newspaper Customer Disservice Office. I was told that someone or other would be dispatched to "redeliver" the paper within ninety minutes! If the newspaper didn't stagger to my door, be sure to phone before 10 A.M. to speak with Ms. Representative again. Well, I didn't want to argue, but how can a paper be redelivered, if it was never delivered in the first place? But, I did bite my tongue and refrained from my smartie-aleckie response. SO... I drained the coffee pot while watching the clock. At 9:50...no paper! At 9:53, I phoned Customer Disservice of the Dayton Daily News again. I was connected to an automated, press 1, press 3, press 2, spin around three times, press 7, spit, press 1 again system to file a complaint. Well, now what? I've callused my fingertips, gotten a headache from prompts and I still had no paper and no response! My grouchometer was elevated too! WHAT THE CARELESS NEWSPAPER DON'T REALIZE: Not only did I pay for this misery, but, I am now in a dark vacuum for the day, unless I actually shower, apply make-up, do my hair, dress, fire up my "ride" and go to a newsstand. The vital sections of the paper are like mother's milk to me! Take the Horoscopes for instance...now should I read my own Tarot Cards? Too boost my intelligence morale, how about the Word Jumble, the Word Scramble or the challenge of the Crossword Puzzle? The funnies - Life in Sketches! How can I check up on my parents without "The Lockhorns" or "Blondie"? My son - "Funky Winklebean" alternating with "Hagar Che Horrible". My three grandchildren are "Peanuts" if nothing else: Todd - Charlie Brown; Tess - Lucy; Tanner - Linus. My daughter is in the center ring of "The Family Circus"! What will I do for self affirmation that life is just dandy compared to the whiners who write to "Dear Abby"? Heloise has saved so many items of clothing sporting stains and how about that closet organization! What is opening in the Movies this weekend, or are the TV listings better? The Sports section has protected my work area from messes that are the by-products of my art projects. I can check the Business Section's Dow Jones to see if I have to go shopping to boost the economy of this great Nation of ours! See what I mean? I NEED THE NEWSPAPER! It is hereditary, you know: My grandfather loved to read the Obituaries to gloat - he was sipping his coffee reading about some peers of his who were listed, if you know what I mean. My mother can do a crossword puzzle in a flash, before most people can read the hints across and down. She also analyzes the Bridge strategy of legendary card players on the same page. My father is a headline hound, I think to boast to Mom that he's pretty smart after all (she doubts that very much). And, finished with today's paper? I can make you a paper mache piggy bank! WELL... My shower is water has warmed. Time to put myself together and go to the Newsstand because I have Home Delivery (not) of the Dayton Daily News and I want to READ ALL ABOUT IT!

FISH WHISPERER

As my children grew up, as with many of us, goldfish were the classic pets. My daughter had a pink and white one that we named: "Fish Cake" during the "Strawberry Shortcake" days. When Tiffany was about three or four years old, Fish Cake took up residence in a bowl in Tiff's room. That finned friend lived for about eleven years! No joke! She was an amazing fish! Fish Cake grew and grew. We always accomodated her with larger and larger bowls. She recognized Tiffany, or her "vibration" as she entered her room. Full of personality, Fish Cake would dance with her nose to the water line and tail fin down nibbling food from Tiffany's fingers. Fish Cake grew so old that her scales were rather funky and sort of falling off! I was grateful for her authentic longevity because her coloring was so unique... And... Nick and Tiff had assorted gold fish over the years. When the children were little, I didn't want to clutter up their happy world with the concept of death. So, when a fish was found floating on its side, I would say that the next day, I would take the ailing fish to "Dr. Mackerel", the vet who specialized in fish, to cure him/her. I would drop brother and sister at school, or my Mom's, head to a pet store and replace the expired critter with the same looking fish! The fish were "cured" and frisky! Everyone was happy! I will add, that when Tiffany was fourteen or fifteen years old, neither she, nor her brother, Nick, were still on board with the whole "Dr. Mackerel" story, so we did have proper services for such an fish with amazing longevity! She, I am sure is waiting for Tiff, swimming in the Sunshine Brook, beneath The Rainbow Bridge! Time passed, as it always does... Now, the Trio, my grandchildren, Todd, 11; Tess, 9; Tanner, 7 have goldfish, well, and minnows. You might be aware that the rock group: "Chubby and The Minnows" have an extended booking at my house. Tess' Chubby is a huge goldfish in an aquarium and Tanner acquired minnows. The minnows occupy a bowl in his room at my house. Todd's goldfish, "Figaro" had taken up residence in a huge crystal snifter with floating candles in my dining room. Figaro has been decorating my dining room for well over a year or so. Two evenings ago, I did a "head count", and "bed and bowl" check. I found Figaro moving his mouth, but floating on his side. He seemed to be looking at me, trying to plead his case not to count him out, but to help him. Figaro, between you and me, could be replaceable...shhh! But, where there is life, there is hope. So, I filled another bowl with fresh, clean water and moved Figaro into it. I emptied, cleaned refilled the snifter and left it waiting for us. Figaro didn't try to escape the net...a concerning sign! After I placed him in my watery doctor's office, I righted him. He tried to swim, but couldn't maintain his balance. For an hour and a half, I coaxed Figaro by gently nudging him upright and softly talking and encouraging him. I would give a tiny push to have him try to swim forward and then support the "down" side. He kept wobbling and trying. I continued to softly talk and gently nudge. I decided to try to put him back in his snifter. He didn't run from the net. Not a good sign. But, once I released him in his home snifter, he seemed to stay erect for a little longer than before! Another hour of encouraging him to try and boosting as he needed it, Figaro seemed to be rallying! I napped for about an hour or two. With dread, I returned to the snifter. Figaro was chipper, swimming quickly around his home, approached the side where I stood, moved his mouth emphatically! Did he thank me or was he demanding to know when room service would be bringing his breakfast? Figaro gobbled his breakfast with loud lip smacking! As I type, I am watching his antics. I have no idea what happened. I have no idea how Figaro was cured. Gentle nudging and soft words are the only prescriptions that I can recommend as, what this Grandmother has become, THE FISH WHISPERER!

LISTEN, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW A SECRET? SHHH!!! (or...There's Nothing New Under The Sun!")

My mother told me that there is nothing new under the sun. She more or less meant that history repeats itself in one way or another. Typical of Mom...she just might be spot on, right! When I was seventeen years old, my father was going to be admitted to a hospital for gall bladder surgery. In the "old days", a surgeon would make an incision, remove the monster affliction and stitch the patient back up. This required a hospital stay of at least a week and recovery period at home for ages. On the morning of my father's admittance into the hospital, he pulled his old, old, dark blue, wrinkled bodied Volkswagen Beetle around to the patio, behind our house in order that my Mom could pull her car in and out of the driveway to visit him. My mother was never, ever approached to teach Drivers' Education! She couldn't back up, refuses to drive on highways, won't make left turns, only parks in parking lots in "pull through" spaces and the list goes on and on. My father told me to start the car every day to keep the battery charged. It was February and he didn't want anything to "freeze". Ah-huh. He repeatedly warned me to attempt driving nowhere! I couldn't drive a "stick" and had already failed my driving test three times. I promised that I would simply turn the engine on, let run for a few minutes, turn it off and leave the stick, choke and clutch alone. So, on the following morning, I turned on the engine, thought that I could drive that bug around the backyard (huge corner acre) and return it to its secure spot on the patio! With a lurch, Blue Bug wound up straddling three steps leading up to the back porch! My Grandmother came out of the house. To say that she was shocked, momentarily speechless and upset is just not doing the poor woman justice! "Dolly Dear, what are you doing? You're going to knock down the house! You aren't supposed to drive the car! You aren't supposed to drive the car up the back steps especially! Get that off!" This was done as she continuously blessed herself and with a strong Italian accent! Ugh! "Nana, the guys at school pick this kind of car up all of the time and turn them around or move them!" I was interrupted by: "But, they don't drive them up[ steps!" I tried again: "Nan, let's just pick this thing up and we'll put it back!" Pleading ensued: "Dolly Dear! Make that car go back! Your papa is going to be mad at both of us!" Her exasperation and frustration were only topped by her reluctant and ineffective attempt at pushing, pulling, lifting with me. Realizing that the brute strength of an elderly woman and 101, 5'2" weenie was non-existent, I said, "Never mind, Nan. I'll just back up." Thinking that I could back a car, resting at a forty-five degree angle, off brick steps, I smartly put the car in reverse. I splintered a wooden picnic table, which unceremoniously crashed into the cedar shake of the house! Groaning, I slammed that Beetle into first gear and managed to stop it, just short of another trip up the stairs! Then, I was regaled with the Litany of Saints in Italian for my black, black soul and the demise of an old picnic table, benches and the rear of a house! "Nana! Stop! All we have to do is touch up the paint on the house". The house was due to be painted in the spring. It was a light grey. The "touch up paint", definitely looked way too fresh. Nana and I tried scraping loose cedar and applying paint. Oh, that looked so bad! That evening, my cousin Stephen visited along with is parents, my grandfathers, aunts, uncles, great aunts, great uncles. The beauty of being Italian, not to sound corny..."You'll never walk alone." I convinced my cousin to sneak out of the house with a flashlight with me. We brought bleach, cleanser, steel wool, anything that we could think of to fade the grey and blend the "patch" with the house. Stephen was sworn to secrecy. After the immediate world left, I said to my Grandmother: "Hey, Nana, do you think that we could not tell Dad about his car, the steps, the patio, the picnic table, the house and the paint?" She guaranteed that she would not tell a would not tell a soul, even my Grandfather. Whew! At my twenty-sixth birthday dinner, my sister, my parents, my grandparents and I were gathered around the table. Right before my birthday cake was brought out, we were all having a lively conversation about who knows what - everything and nothing. At one point, I looked across the table at my Father and kiddling said that he really never knew what was going on in the household. I said that his cluelessness was part of his charm and that's why we loved him. He looked directly into my eyes and said: "Oh, yeah?" I assured him that if he had been so intune, he would have noticed a few extra dents in the Volkswagen nine years ago. My Grandmother gasped and threw her fingers to her lips! "Dolly Dear, be careful!" The story of the car, steps, patio, picnic table, house, painting ruse came tumbling from me. Nana exclaimed: "All these years, I never said anything! Now, told? Dad was still, silent. And then: "Is that so?" Looking at Nana: "You were in on that with her?" We all,including my ButterScotch, my cat, held our collective breath. Enlightened, he declared: "Well, you two are always in cahoots! Hey Ang! (my Mom),let's light the candles and get this show on the road." Time has passed, as it always does. Tess, my nine year old Granddaughter, called a month ago to tell me that her brother (oldest, eleven year old Todd) was in trouble and if Mom (my daughter) found out, all three (Todd, Tess, Tanner (7) children would get into trouble. I said, "Hmmmm...and this news is such a great Grandparent's Day gift Tess. What's up?" She then shrieked, "That's it! I'm cheering today. I know you couldn't come to the game because of your ankle (Broken) and all, but, you have to come to the game for Grandparents' Day! We'll do a special cheer! Todd, come here! Meme (may-may) is coming to the game, we're saved!" Call me slow, but, I still didn't know what was going on. "Wait, wait Tess, what is the Big Trouble before we get on about the Fourth Grade Football game?" Here it went: Todd, the 2014 version of "Charlie Brown", Tess (nine year old cheer/ring master) and Tanner (7 and clueless) went swimming in a friend's pool on the day before. Todd left his brand new eye glasses there. Mom has zero tolerance for irresponsibility. The Trio had to retrieve those glasses, without anyone knowing what had happened. So, after painstakingly readying myself, cushioning my leg, I made a two hour drive to Zanesville. I would "surprise" everyone by my strength, go to the football game, take a soaking at the snack bar and the Trio would jump into my car after the game and guide me to McKenna's house for the rogue glasses. Simple? When I was ten minutes from the field, my daughter phoned. Cell phones are blessings...why? "Mom! Tess told me some nonsense about Grandparents' Day and that you are coming to the game! You'll never heal! You FELL you have to heal! We need you so much to stay with the kids when we travel this year. Why are you doing this? What's wrong with you? If you are already almost here, YOU go to the game. I'm so mad that you are worse than a child! YOU need a sitter! I can't believe...Tess! You wait here for Meme! She can go to the game. Tanner! Get Meme a chair. She needs a psychiatrist, but a chair will do! Mom, you fell! You're hurt! This is serious! What are you..." I pulled into the driveway, as I slowed down, kids, chairs, literally jumped into the car! Tess: "I'm sorry you got in trouble, Meme!" Like bandits plotting to hold up the next train heading West, we giggled and laughed as I zoomed to the football field. We were on pins and needles for that game to end! I seriously wondered of Todd was a techno-geek enough to rig that digital scoreboard to cut out some of the time! Finally, the last whistle, horn, whatever blew! Three different directions to one house, minutes later, we roared into McKenna's driveway. Tess jumped out of the car before I had it in "Park" and raced up the front stairs. McKenna's Mom answered the door and said: "Oh, Tess! McKenna must have told you we are having a lazy day at home. She said that you phoned whispering about something. I have Todd's glasses. I was just about to phone your Mom to tell her that they are safely here!" Tess screeched: "Don't tell Mom! There's Meme in the car. She wanted to say HI and pick up the glasses for us!" Wave, wave, smile, smile, see you next trip to Zanesville, sure, we'll do lunch. Tess jumped back into the car and off we went with Todd sporting his glasses. The children eventually were home, all snug in their beds, with visions of naughty Meme dancing/limping in their heads. For about twenty minutes, as I drove back to Kettering, Mom yelled and blathered; said that she guessed that I should have stayed the night, etc. Finally, I said: "What? What? I must be riding in a black hole! I can't hear you!" Disconnect. Nana, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW A SECRET? You kept my secret. I think it best that you come with me to Tess' twenty-sixth birthday dinner and please, please, help me keep a secret, because there truly is nothing new under the sun!

SPINNING IN CIRCLES BACK TO SCHOOL

With the timing of a pro-avoider, my daughter decided to leave town to move some things from a house that she and her husband were selling just as a new school year began for the Trio, her children, my grandchildren: Todd, 10; Tess, 9; Tanner, 7. In other words, she left Zanesville, Ohio for Naples, Florida with clear, distinct, detailed instructions: "Mom, school starts on the 18th (Why Ohio, why August? In good old New Jersey, we started in September). Button up having the kids ready and don't forget that they should be on time! Try to keep the morning stress free. Have fun!" So, for days before the school bell rang at Bishop Fenwick Catholic School, we bought a new "Sonic" lunchbox and "Sonic" eyeglass case to match Todd's "Sonic" backpack; bought Tess' cheerleading bloomers; smocks bought and personalized (I embroidered their names on them at about 2 A.M. in the morning): the right, "cool", but uniform friendly, shoes; decorative basket for Tess' room; three sets of headphones; Tanner's new back pack; Tess' complete "Justice" ensemble of backpack, lunch box, water bottle sporting a "T" on everything; haircuts for the boys and a trim for Tess; all meals out for days as we continued to move swiftly through unending supply lists. Whew! On the eve of the first morning, we steamed uniforms, stood new backpacks at the door, made lunches! Thinking we were organized, in great shape, it then began: "Meme! (may-may) I can't find any white knee socks! I may have to wear ankle socks, but you aren't allowed! Should I wear pants instead? Oh no! These shoes don't go! I hate these!" That was Tess for starters. And then Tanner: "I don't want to try on this stuff!" Todd: "We have to tr your stuff on! Meme! These pants are too tight! We just bought these! What's up with that? I think you shrunk them while you were steaming." Tanner: "My pants are falling down!" Todd and Tess: "Wear a belt! It's part of the uniform!" There followed: "I can't find a belt!" "Check the belt drawer!" "Do we have a belt drawer?" And the finale: "Tomorrow we can't go to school! Let's go shopping and start over. We can go out for lunch too!" Seriously? Finally, scrubbed, shampooed, jammied, breakfast orders placed with the misguided idea of saving time, the Trio managed to giggle themselves to sleep. my The dawning of the First Day of School for the 2014-1025 School Year! We pride ourselves on consistent chaos as usual! Why does school start soooooo early? Just asking. The boys confused their uniforms; again, the magical mystery belt conflict reared its ugly head. Tess awoke with smooth, silky hair. I cringed when I heard: "Meme! For the first day of school, I'm going to curl my hair! I can do it myself while you make breakfast!" Tanner: "Meme! This shirt stretched overnight!" Todd: "Take it off! It's mine!" Eggs, bacon, toast, hot chocolate ordered last night turned into cold cereal with the garnish: "You don't want milk on that do you, just throw it in a cup it in a cup and eat it in the car!" After twenty minutes of trying to free Tess' tangled hair from the curling iron, without shaving her head, the whole "on time" concept was fading. Six feet scrambled into shoes in the back of my car and then I remembered: The classic "First Day of School Photo Shoot!" Oh nuts! "Get out! Grab your backpacks (hey at $75 a pop, they were picture worthy) and line up on the step..SMILE! Another year of school is here!!! Smile! Don't grit your teeth and mummer!" A quick snap of the camera phone, photo texts to Mom and Grandpa, we were off! We careened to TAnner's school first. The same Bishop Fenwick School has grades K-3 in one building and up a hill on the other side of Main Street, is the Middle School - Grades 4-8. Cars were lined up smartly as children walked into Tanner's building. I had exactly NO minutes to get the other two to their school door. Leaving my car in a nifty "no parking" zone, motor running, doors gaping open, I grabbed Tanner, his lunchbox flapping behind him, backpack swinging lethally, ran through cars as they screeched to a halt across the street, nearly knocking the good pastor over. Salvaging myself from ex-communication, I smiled, said,"Here's Tanner, have a great day, love you, see you later!" I raced back to the car (time saver to keep doors open and motor running). Practically running over three students, an older woman pushing a baby stroller and pushing traffic out of the way, I managed to pull up to the Middle School's door, just as Sr. Smiling...not so much...was about to close it! I slammed on the brakes, beeped the horn, waved and tried to control my hysteria: "Oh wait! Two more here!" Wanting to crawl into a crack in the pavement, but instead blowing me kisses, the duo, aka, Todd and Tess raced into the school. Fundamental rule of life: School begins and school is dismissed. I made the rounds picking up the Trio. We decided to go out for an early, early dinner to exchange the stories of the day at school. I asked: "Hey! do any of you have homework tonight, on the first day?" This brought an onslaught of laughter. I began to weigh the possibility of headlining in Las Vegas, if I ever got out of Zanesville. In three part harmony: "No Meme! But you do!" Piles of papers for me to sign (What happened to tree conservation?) Homework contracts, emergency info papers, behavior contracts, menus for the month, special enrichment subject acknowledgements and my personal favorite: "Notice that signature required here___________ acknowledging checking students' backpacks, folders and papers sent home for signatures." The Trio was pretty efficient pushing the papers in front of me and I have never been to slow with an autograph, so after an hour and a half, we managed to move smoothly through it all. Later, the circus wagon, aka, moving truck arrived with Mom. The driver, a friend of the globe trotters, announced that in the morning, before we all go our ways, he would make a huge breakfast. I warned him that we have to be in the car and down the driveway by 7:25 A.M. He said he understood. The next morning, slightly smoother than the one before, we assembled in a quiet, empty, clean kitchen. There was no breakfast action even as late as 7:18! We were running out of time. Thank goodness for my stash of Lucky Charms in my embroidery bag! Either Breakfast Man: 1. Has no children: 2. Has never attended DAY school; or 3. Had a death wish thinking that 7:18 was the time to begin! He appeared in the kitchen just as my signature: "You don't want milk in those Lucky Charms do you? Let's roll!" hung over the room. Cool Breakfast Man mumbled: "How about some scrambled eggs?" In an attempt to be polite rather than timely, we scrapped the Charms and by 7:40, we blew past two State Troopers, that little old lady pushing that stroller, nearly missed Tanner's principal's toes and threw body blocks against Todd and Tess' principal to hold the door open! I returned to the house to collect my bag, computer, sewing to return to home turf. Giving myself "atta girls" for managing to not have lost my touch for the first days of school, I froze in terror! Three brand new lunch boxes waved and mocked me at the door! Oh no! I snatched the rogue boxes, raced to Tanner's school first, introduced myself and surrendered his lunch. I then retraced the original route to the Middle School. The secretary buzzed me in and said: "Ah, Mrs. Macy, we're beginning the new year just as we ended the last!" Another contender to headline in Vegas! I smiled as sweetly as I could and asked that she give Todd and Tess their lunches. As I turned around, I collided with Todd: "Meme! I am so glad that you're here! We forgot our lunches! You shouda reminded us!" R-I-G-H-T, who knew, my bad! "Todd, can you bring Tess her lunch so that we don't have to disturb the machinery here anymore than we have?" The relieved secretary strained a smile and a happy Fifth Grader sang as he swung both lunch boxes skipping down the hall. As he rounded a corner, he turned, winked, smiled and said: "I love you Meme!" And so, the whirlpool slowed after SPINNING IN CIRCLES BACK TO SCHOOL!

GONE FISHING

My daughter was traveling for a week during the summer and my grandchildren - Todd, 10; Tess, 9 and Tanner, 7 (aka The Trio) stayed with me. Tiki, their cat and Figaro, Todd's goldfish came along for my care as well. The Trio, still impressed by my five years at the Central Park Zoo in NYC thought that I could care for any living thing. Todd's goldfish took up residence in a decorative snifter with floating candles that I have in my dining room. Figaro, I believe has moved in permanently. The week was fun, adventurous, all critters, human and/or not, thrived. My story begins when the Trio went to visit Bio-Dad. Excuse my sharky-ness. My daughter and their Dad have been divorced for a while. Their two week "visitation" was to start as my week ended. I seldom receive any communication fro the other camp, other than logistics of meeting to exchange the Trio. At 9:24, on a Tuesday morning, Tess called: "Meme! (may-may) I have a big goldfish here at my Dad's. It is about four or five inches long and really fat! I giggled and said: "Hey Tess! Is his name Chubby?" She groaned: "Meme! It's a girl!" Corrected, I replied, "Oh, I'm sorry, Tess, is her name Chubby?" Tess exhaled an eye rolling sigh: "Okay, if you want, you can call her Chubby. I don't want Chubby to live here and Mommy won't be happy when we meet her to go home with a great big goldfish! So, I asked Mary (Bio-Dad's fiance) if I could call you to pick her up! Can you come here to meet us and take my fish home with you? I want my fish to live with you so that when we come over, I have my fish to visit!" Warily, I responded: "Is this okay with Dad and Mary?" Tess, growing impatient: "Meme! Dad's at work, Todd is with him, Mary said we'd meet you what ever time is good for you" Hmmmm..."Tess, put Mary on the phone." A pause, Mary: "Tess said that you'll take the fish. Thank you, she's so happy What time is good for you?" We agreed that at 2:PM, I would arrive in Tipp City (one half hour drive from my door) to pick up Chubby. I quickly showered, dressed, made up (casual, summer shear) and headed for the pet store. After explaining that Figaro wouldn't be safe with a big, still sight unseen Chubby in a snifter, which would be too small for Chubby anyway, the sympathetic (but very amused at the story) clerk helped me based on the amount that I wanted to spend - $0.00 and what I had to spend - $75.00 plus tax and a donation for the local animal shelter to feed homeless kitties and puppies. The "alert" sounded on my phone with an urgent message as I staggered to my car with Chubby's new digs. Mary sent me a text: "Tanner wants the minnows. Can he have them to take to your house too? And, if so, how many? He has about a dozen. He fell in love with them. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wants to save them. It's hard for me to say no to him! Lol!" My response: "Oh, sure. Let him keep them all. Why not? I've never seen a minnow. Priscilla (my cat) has a new cookbook: '101 Ways To Cook Fresh Fish'. Sounds like a fish fry!" Minnows? I phoned a friend on the way to the rendezvous with Mary, Tess, Tanner and new finned friends. "I'm on my way to pick up a huge goldfish and some minnows. I don't know how to care for minnows. I've never seen a minnow!" Deep laughter emitted from my phone: "Ah, you might mean guppies...small colorful. Minnows are bait or feeder fish. Minnows are skinny, grey, little. They aren't pets." Hmmmm. I assured him that I didn't misunderstand and that I would let him know. Two children ran to me, jumped and hugged me giggling. Mary carried a huge carton containing an enormous fishbowl (with Chubby and the minnows. Hey! Sounds like a rock band!), two nets (one large, one small), a few decorative rocks, fish food and secured it in my little white car! "Thank you so much! The children love you so! You really are a wonderful grandmother, you know! Give Meme hugs and kisses and let's go to the park!" I thanked Mary for the compliments, smiled about the fish (sort of), assured her that Priscilla would have a dilly of a fish fry and headed for home. She laughed and said to enjoy the fry! On the way, I phoned my friend back: "Hey, I'm on the way to cross the Kettering border with Chubby and a slew of skinny, grey, little fish." A deep laugh: "Well girl, better go fishing! You've got yourself a mess of minnows!" Priscilla was waiting for me with her frying pan on the counter as I struggled to bring in the fish cargo. I immediately told her: "Pris! Shame on you! You know GRILL, don't FRY!" She muttered something about health freaks and climbed on to the counter to supervise move-in day with a scowl. Ugh...mount background scene; put filters in the filter; wash stones, arrange plants...I should be a decorator! Oh, wait, I am an aquarium decorator. Finally, something water to neutralize it - like wetness? Time for Chubby t move into her new home. Ah-ha...right. For twenty-seven (yes, that was 27) minutes, armed with the larger net, I launched a high speed chase to capture Chubby to more her scaly, finny body into the tank. I was wet, tired and losing the sea battle badly! Finally, Pris stuck her paw in one side of the bowl and voila! Chubby practically jumped into my net on the other side! The tank sits on one end of the piano, the snifter with Figaro on the other. This project did not get any easier! I cleaned out the mega-bowl after spending forty-two (yes, 42) minutes corralling, are you ready? Corralling eighteen (yep, 18) minnows to transfer to the cleaning/holding bowl. A circus performer couldn't be more flexible and fast to be sure! After cleaning mega-bowl, placing a cute grey stone in the bottom, I went on a minnow round up again to move them into their spacious studio apartment. You guessed it: 57 minutes to gather these little beasts, practically one at a time. A floating candle on the top should put me on the cover of "Home Decor International". That lovely domain rests between the other two. I dried the kitchen, disinfected, mopped, scrubbed myself senseless (ah, that may have been the problem in the beginning). I snapped pictures of Chubby and MInnow World to text to Mary to text to Mary to share with the children. Her response: "You're awesome! Enjoy the fish fry!" As Priscilla and I settled back for a cup of tea and to rehash the day, my cell phone blasted its "Pirate Jig" ringtone. God love friends who say: "I hope you don't miss the children too much. Use the time to do what you want to do. Where were you earlier?" Frankly, I had "gone fishing"!