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"!

THE RESULTS ARE IN! THE ULTIMATE PIZZA COMPETITION!

The Trio and I were rehashing our latest "challenge" one afternoon. Let me explain:The Trio is made up of my grandchildren: Todd, 10; tess, 9 and Tanner 7. In the past, we had a contest between "McDonald's" and "Burger King". See the blog: THE CONTEST, written about a year or so ago. We recently cast our votes and opinions about Ice Cream Parlors during THE TRIPLE THREAT ICE CREAM CHALLENGE (blogged about a month ago, or so). Assorted friends and family have begun asking about our criteria and results. Some asked what our next competition would be. Fun with a purpose, you might say. Todd nixed Chinese. All three can use chop sticks, but he doesn't like the Cuisine at all. A light bulb went off among the three at the same time! The next contest: PIZZA! Armed with paper and pens, we jotted down our ideas, by which we would judge three local pizza shops. We labored, debated and decided which shops, the location, the categories to be judged and the scoring system. "Cassano's" would be running the race against "Marion's" and "Flyi8ng Pizza". "Cassano's" is a long time Dayton tradition. A pizza from Cassano's was the first Mid-West Pizza that I had ever tasted. I had never seen pizza cut into squares before! "Marion's" is also an old timer with a huge following. "Flying Pizza" is "New York style, imported from the East Coast. SLICES - YES!!!! I took our hand written notes and created "score sheets" for each of us. The three pizza establishments were to be judged on the number of toppings, the varieties of crusts. On a scale of 1 (worst) to 10 (best, we were to judge oily/dry, crust, freshness of ingredients, overall taste, inside atmosphere, cleanliness, decor, overall experience. I printed out the score papers, packed four pens in my purse (and a few dollars) to begin the ULTIMATE PIZZA COMPETITION! Over the course of three different days, three different "meals", we pursued PIZZA! We went to Cassano's first. One has to admire "Cassano's". It sponsors a display/installation at the "Boonshoft Children's Museum of Natural History" in Dayton, thereby, embracing fellow Daytonians. We enjoyed the dispositions of the staff, the restaurant in general. Pictures of old Dayton, old "Cassano's", Vic Cassano and celebrities adorned the walls. The crust had a slight hint of salt, but was perfect! The top -not dry, not oily whereby you have to blot, but, just right! We ordered a pepperoni pizza (Trio's favorite). As we licked our fingers and pushed away the empty pizza tray, we began our scoring. !Lively discussion, comparison of notations, "Cassano's" would be tough to beat! Before we went to pizzeria number two: "Marion's", I was told that "Marion's" would put "Cassano's" to shame. Well readers, the judges could not disagree more! "Marion's" pizza was dry, dry, dry! It was palatable because Todd kept the soda run going at a steady pace. Tanner said he filled up on the soda, because he couldn't eat the cardboard! Tess said that the little squares were great to make a craft project, maybe a mosaic of a picture of a pepperoni pizza? There was no pleasure to be had at all! The pepperoni was so old that I think that it was on Social Security and Disability all at once! Maybe "Marion's" was having a bad day. Plates were an issue until I got up and began to whine and scrounged some from the counter. The decor was pleasant enough, but, frankly, we were too hungry and disappointed to appreciate trees "growing" mid restaurant. And, society frowns upon gnawing on the furniture in public. We whipped out our score sheets and let the our pens' ink do its polka. before we left disappointedly! Our third and final contestant was "Flying Pizza". As a New Yorker/East Coaster, myself, I thought that "Flying Pizza" (New York import, new York Style...slices!) would sweep me away. The decor was nothing to look at ...a few New York Photos, but, hey, we were there to fill the pizza space in our tummies! Our order was interrupted twice by one customer who asked for water and another looking for a plate, but eventually taken. Then, we seated ourselves. A delicious looking pepperoni pizza was delivered to our table. Slices excited me! Dry crust that tasted like cardboard did not excite me so much. Tanner said that his teeth were going to crack, break and fall out of his mouth all at once! Todd doubted that and responded that his teeth were getting stuck. No breakage if you're stuck in a crust. Tess rolled her eyes and tried to make the best of the entire episode. Todd, finally removing his teeth from his slice, asked for a bag of potato chips. I never grasped the concept of potato chips with pizza, but, I chalk it up to a "Mid - West" thing. I got up, took a bag from a nearby rack and approached the counter in order to pay. I held a $5.00 bill in view and the bag of chips. There was not a single customer at the counter at that time. I stood watching two workers chat. I remained, in full view, totally ignored. I asked if one of the two could assist me, just as a customer came into the door. Attention was turned to the newly arrived individual. Assuming that I am constructed out of clear plastic wrap and invisible, I left the chips on the counter and returned to my seat announcing "POINTS OFF - PENALTY 5!" Of the fast food play places, of the ice cream parlors and previous "pizza joints", we had a new, unfamiliar issue: IGNORE- or lack of respect for the customer and indifferent disposition! We finished our so, so pizza. We took out our score papers and our lethal pens to begin. Those pens strutted their stuff on no uncertain terms! As we left, we politely said good-bye. The staff did reply, without looking up from their crossword puzzles, "Bye now!". Tanner turned as he straddled the threshold: "You lost points you know!" and scurried out of the door. Our findings: "Cassano's" blew the anchovies off of both "Marion's" and "Flying Pizza" with a combined score of 221.9 out of a possible 236! "Marion's slipped into second place only because "Flying Pizza" was in dire need of an attitude adjustment! The two were a whisper apart in the 118-117 range in second and third place! We are not "restaurant critics" by any stretch of the imagination. But, think about this...we are grandchildren with a grandmother out for pizza (or ice cream, or a bounce in a play place). Baby Boomers, like myself, are considered to be the "big spenders" of our era. At last count, 3.75 million Baby Boomers are entertaining their grandchildren. We are the Pizza consumers! OUr findings just might be advantageous for Pizza establishments to consider. My peers might accept our suggestions and possibly use our "results" (and a coupon) to determine where they will purchase pizza for their grandchildren. That being said, we had fun. I can't say that any of us are clamoring for pizza in the near future. We will be at "Cassano's" when we are, so look for us there! Let the pit fall of "Flying Pizza" teach Pizza merchants something though...Placement will be tarnished by questionable attitude in THE ULTIMATE PIZZA COMPETITION!

CAT SITTER OR GYMNAST?

Since my first grandchild was born, ten years ago, I have always vacationed with my daughter and the three children (now 10, 9 and 7).  We have gone to the beach, to the North Pole, Camp Yogi, every and any water indoor park, Disney World, Ft. Lauderdale, Pirate Dinners, Pirate Cruises, Naples, Florida, New York, New Jersey, Pawley's Island, South Carolina.  At any given time, we get up, get packed and GO! We have been well tuned, efficiently moving, well-oiled touring machines!

But, I broke my ankle!  I am having a difficult time healing.  I am in a walking cast which is heavy and cumbersome.  I am to "relax", curtail activity, limit travel, rest, remain close to my Doctors for constant visits.  UGH.  So, a family trip to the beach (Cape May, New Jersey) with inflexible dates, was not to include me.  The Trio and I were having a difficult time dealing with this, but, as my grandmother would say:  "This too, will pass."  In other words...get over it with style and grace!

While their Mom spent two days packing, getting her nails done, etc. in preparation for the family (minus one) vacation, I thought that I too, would have a sleepover, mini vacation with Todd, Tess and Tanner before they left.  We booked a hotel for two days with a spa and swimming pool, breakfast, accommodating staff, near a mall, restaurants, miniature golf, movie theatre and laser tag!  Firm ground...no shifting sand for my instability.  We shopped, ate, played, swam and I kept my leg elevated while they ran amuck!  After the pool closed for the evening at the hotel, Tess made me tea.  The boys created snacks.  Tess and I gave each other facials, pedicures and manicures!  They did their best to take care of Meme (may may).  Finally, the call came from Mommy: "We have a long ride Mom." (ten hours)  "Maybe, you should bring the children back at 11 this morning.  Everything is packed.  I even have Dad's birthday gift in the rental car."  Sadly, I relayed the message to the Trio.  We returned home.  The "Griswald" (Family Vacation - Chevy Chase) packed car was a reality before me.  Tearfully, we hugged, kissed, promised to call.  This sounds a little over the top for a week's separation, I do admit.  Upon their return, they knew that they would spend the week with Uncle Nick, Vacation Bible School and me...something to which we could all look forward!

Suddenly, Tiff (my daughter) came down the stairs with what we call "Tiki's Space Ship"!  This is a flying saucer shaped, covered litter box for Tiki, their pure white, affectionate, playful, silly cat!  Trying to be cool, collected, mature and dry eyed, I asked: "Tiff, what are you doing?"  Giggles erupted all around: "Meme!  You are taking Tiki home with you!  You won't miss us and you know we'll be right there after vacation  to see you and Tiki!  You two will have fun and you won't cry!"

I had to install Tiki in one of the bedrooms used by the Trio.  Priscilla, my cat, becomes an emotional and mental freak, leading to $3,000 Veterinary bills when her psychosis, insecurities, jealousy manifest themselves into a physical mess of a kitty!  In other words, Priscilla does not play hostess to Tiki with a smile.  She does not offer to play paper dolls, share vittles or breath the same air.  So, the "Space Ship" was placed at the far end of a rather large bedroom/playroom.  Far from it, Tiki's food dishes were assembled.  Disney Jr. played on the television for her entertainment.  Door firmly closed.

This morning, in a flimsy robe, walking cast and one slipper with nothing else on me at all, I ventured down the stairs to distract Priscilla with breakfast and treats before tending to Tiki.  I planned to then shower, dress in comfortable lounging clothes and relax with my leg elevated most if not all of the day to counter the exhaustion of the previous two days.  Maybe I would watch a little television with Tiki to keep her company for a little while.  And so, Saturday was to be stress free, easy, relaxed.

Priscilla was purring as she inhaled her treats at breakfast.  I fed the goldfish, which has taken up residence since the last trip that my daughter took, leaving me pets and children.  I loaded a silver tray (no joke) with goodies for Tiki and snuck down the hallway to Tiki's room.  I smartly opened  and closed the door quickly and firmly.  I scooped the space ship, watered, fed my house guest.  I changed the channel on the television to Westerns (Hey, it was Saturday, after all!)  We made chit chat, a little ear, chin rubbing, "I'll visit you later Tiki", took the tray of dirty dishes, etc. and headed for the door.

I turned the door knob.  Nothing caught to open the door!  I turned and turned and turned and turned the knob more and more and more and more!  Nothing.  I turned it the opposite way.  I turned and turned and turned and turned the knob again and again and again and again!  Nothing!  I could not get out!  My phone was upstairs.  The only other living, breathing beings in the house at the time were Priscilla (can't reach the knob) and the goldfish (can't scale the snifter from beneath floating candles)  Now what?  My aknle was throbbing, even in the boot.  I was panicking!

I was on the first floor.  The windows are rather large.  So, I opened the window and screen in the bedroom.  Tiki was hot on my trail.  I kept telling her to go away and "spot" me from the other side of the room.  I tossed some jingle bells (Tanner had been playing with them last week) across the floor. Tiki took off after them.  I scratched my --- sliding out of the window of the brick palazzo.  I had the presence of mind to hang on by a thread, so to speak, to the screen to close it, confining Tiki.  I am glad that the neighbors are either not nosey, or not outdoorsy to have paid any attention to me!  Luckily, the neighborhood "watch" didn't recommend that I be arrested for indecent exposure!

I limped/clumped around the house, climbed onto the deck and found a window from there, unlocked.  I climbed back into the house, shimmying down a bookcase.  Hmmmm....and I didn't like Gym when I was in school.  Pretty athletic, if you ask me! I was hot, dirty, in agony, but IN THE HOUSE!!!

My phone was ringing upstairs!  I pulled myself up the stairs, missed two calls.  I listened to the first message as I was removing weeks from my hair and the Velcro of my boot: "Hi Meme!  We tried to call you!  You said to call, but you are'n't answering!  How's Tiki?  Are you taking good care of your ankle?  Are you resting or sleeping now?  Grandpa rented a big house.  Too bad he couldn't change the date, but Mom said to stay off of your ankle and take good care of it so that we can play when we come home!  I miss you!  I miss you more!! C'mon guys, we all miss Meme!  We'll call you back later!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!!  Kiss Tiki for us!!!  We'll call you back!"  CLICK  I listened to the second message.  My Mom:  "Now that the children are away, just rest.  Don't exert yourself!  The peace will do you good.  A little tea, a good book and doze - you might be napping now.  You're probably feeling refreshed already."

You know, one just might be able to nurse a broken ankle while the family is away.  I get that.  But, not when Meme is a Cat Sitter!

PET ANGEL WAITING AT THE RAINBOW BRIDGE or A DEATH IN THE FAMILY

At about six in the evening of a beautiful summer day, my phone rang.  As I attempted a simple greeting, like: "Hello?", Tess, my nine year old granddaughter hysterically screeched:  "Meme! (may -may)!  we are on the way to the vet with Pirouette.  Something is wrong with her!  Her throat is all black.  Mommy is driving as fast as she can.  Meet us right away!"  I live two hours from my daughter and three grandchildren.  It is at a time like this, when I seriously consider tossing my geography over my shoulder, moving and not looking back.  "Tess, let me know what happens.  It will take me a while to get there, keep moving forward!

Pirouette - Tess' Bearded Dragon.  Pirouette came to Tess as a three inch baby, eight months ago.  I used to tease and call the lizard: "Dizzy Lizzy".  I learned the diet, habits, etc. to assist in the care of a Bearded Dragon.  In her travel tank, Pirouette made either of our houses, her home.

I called my son, "Uncle Nick" to the Trio (Tess and her two brothers- todd, 10 and Tanner, 7) and told him that I might be in Zanesville for a day or two, and explained the situation.  He replied: "Mom, remember Dr. Mackerel?"  I had to laugh.  When my children were young, if we found a pet goldfish, shall we say, "sleeping" on it's side, I would say:  "Oh dear!  It looks like Patches (or whoever) doesn't feel well.  While you're in school tomorrow, I'll bring him/her to Dr. Mackerel and see what he can do."  (Fish specialist only found in my mind)  The next day, the fish would feel so much better - replaced by an exact duplicate.  Thank goodness, Tiff's pink goldfish lived for thirteen years (no joke), because that would have been a dilly to replace.  By the time "Fishcake" died, Tiffany was a teenager and was aware of mortality.  Anyway, Nick said that he'd get on the phone and find another bearded dragon.  He told me to go to Zanesville and pick up Pirouette, dead or alive, promise my connections with Dr. Newt Gecko, and then return with a well heated Pirouette!  Then the "glitch" surfaced it's ugly head:  Pirouette grew to be twelve inches long, had a four (or more) inch circumference around her tummy.  Nick called every pet shop in a seventy-five mile radius north, south, east, west.  Only babies.  He began on animal shelters as I packed an overnight bag and received the next call:

"Meme!!!  Hurry!!! You used to work at the Zoo (Central Park Zoo, NYC, education department for five years) and you know what the Vet is talking about!  Pirouette may not make it through the night and we have to keep her comfortable to try to get the toxins out.  Mommy fed her a lightning bug and the light is poisonous!  I want to come by you!"  A gush of tears followed.  I phoned Nick:  "How are you making out?  I'm on my way to Tess, please let me know as soon as possible what's what!"  An exhausted response:  "Mom, I have three of us on phones and we've got nothing!  We might have to check Indiana or Pennsylvania!"  Reality took hold:  "Nick, if you are all combing Ohio, I don't think there is much hope.  We've got to go with Pirouette's demise."

For two hours, Todd and Tanner phoned to check my progress and update the patient's condition.  Tess wasn't available.  She was alternately holding and soaking Pirouette  to "keep her comfortable" while crying.    As I got out of my car, the boys nearly knocked me over, grabbed my bag and purse and ushered me into the living room.  My daughter was devastated and filled with guilty sorrow.  Tess clung to me and we spent the evening stroking and holding Pirouette in her misery.  I said to Tess that she needed some rest.  I told her that Mom and I would check Pirouette during the night. I told Todd and Tanner that Pirouette was "hanging in" for Tess, but most likely would pass during the night, once Tess put her in her tank.  they said good night to her, kissed her and said that they would miss her.  With labored breadth, Pirouette did her best to acknowledge them.

Like the Italian (at least part) that she is, Tess made calls in the morning.  She called her Grandfather, Uncle Nick, the Richards Family, her God-Mother, her friends and with each call, cried telling them about Pirouette.  Like the 75% Italian and 25% Sicilian that I am, I figured that I should keep "the book" of mourners for future reference.  

We selected a peaceful spot near a trellis in the yard.  The boys each took shovels and excavated the burial site.  Tiff bought a pink plastic container and lined it with a pink and white doll blanket.  We decorated the interior with Pirouette's red heat plant.  I suggested placing her Christmas Stocking that I made with her, but Tiff said that Tess might want it as a memory.  A private family internment followed.  tess read a Psalm about the Lord and His creatures and the Resurrection.  Each of us then spoke.  I was glib, light telling of two misadventures that I had with Pirouette.  Tiff crumbled and cried only saying she was sorry, that it was an accident.  Todd told us about Pirouette on his computer keyboard.  Tess did her best to talk about her pet, but just couldn't finish.  Tanner made us giggle, though, when he admitted that he didn't think Pirouette liked him much.  "I think that she thought that I was annoying."  We did all smile and agree.  Tess placed the box in the hole.  That was the most heart wrenching scene.  Tiff, Tess and I watched the boys fill in the hole and place a flat disk of a stone on top, to suffice until a more permanent marker be make and placed.  The boys, with their heads bowed, walked back to the house/garage dragging their big shovels silently.  Tiff, to my right was so racked with guilt, that she barely walked.  Tess clung to my left hip, sobbing.

I had an uncle.  I will call him Uncle No Heart. After my Grandfather suffered, what turned out to be his final stroke and was in a coma, my children and I were in the hospital restaurant when Uncle no Heart came up to me.  Sir Lean and Mean, waggled his finger at me and said with a smirk:  "I know that you are close to your Grandfather (his Father, by the way).  I know that you have spent your lifetime loving your Grandparents and that you taught your children the same.  Now, this is the end of the line.  Are you willing to pay the price?  "  Like a lioness, I pounced (verbally):  "I pay the price every day and I hurt and I'm glad!  I want one more day, one more hour, one more minute, even a second with Grandpa!  I pay the price when I drag these two kids to the hospital to visit their Great-Grandpa even if he can't wake up!  I do it with joy!  We love and feel.  If ultimate loss and sorrow are the prices for loving and feeling, bring it on and I'll pay and pay and pay and then beg to pay some more!  Mom (his sister)  is paying over and over as well!  Just go away!  Just go away!"  He turned and left with his arrogance and cockiness flashing all over the place.  Some patrons, who witnessed the scene, applauded me and those who didn't clap, gave me encouraging, sympathetic smiles.

As we walked and I cleared my mind of the recollection, I said to Tess;  "Pirouette is always with you.  She's a Pet Angel and..."  Before I could continue, Tess said:  "And, Meme, when I have another Bearded Dragon, she'll help me take care of it even better!"  I smiled:  "Yes Tess, and eventually, you'll meet Pirouette at the Rainbow Bridge to play together again.  But not for a long time."

THE TRIPLE THREAT ICE CREAM CHALLENGE

About a year ago, the Trio (my grandchildren: Todd, 10; Tess, 9; Tanner, 7) and I created and participated in "The Contest".  The Contest is described in my June 12, 2013 blog - THE CONTEST.   We compared and contrasted McDonald's and Burger King.

Last week, on the phone, I had a conversation with Todd.  "I have an idea!"  Usually, I dread those four words coming at me.  This time, the roles were reversed: "Oh, Oh!  Meme (may-may) you're scaring me!  What do you have in mind?"  Undaunted, I continued:  "Todd, remember the contest last year with McDonald's and Burger King as contestants?"  A giggle:  "Oh yes!  That was so funny!  You're so silly Meme!  We had a blast!"  I pushed on:  "Todd, the next time that the three of you are with me, we're going to have an Ice Cream Challenge!  We'll have a competition between Cold Stone and Graeter's!  We'll do official sheets whereby we compare the number of flavors, number of toppings, best tasting, inside atmosphere, outside patio, the works.  We'll give scores and see who wins!"  Todd jumped on this one:  "Wait!  We did two places last time.  How about a triple threat?  All in one day, so we have good memory.  Like how about using Maggie Moo's too?  That's right in Centerville!"  So, Todd and I declared a TRIPLE THREAT ICE CREAM CHALLENGE to be held during their very next visit!

On a Friday evening, after the Trio settled into their rooms, we congregated in the living room for a strategy meeting.  We reviewed our score sheets.  Three Ice Cream Parlors were going to be judged and analyzed by three experts and their grandmother!  We plotted the order of the next day.  On Saturday morning, breakfast was light.  The judges were ready to rock!

Our first visit, after we bought Tess new ballet shoes, was to Maggie Moo's.   We sat inside because, there was no outdoor seating, unless we wanted to sit on a curb in front of the shop.  We counted flavors, toppings, recorded them.  Todd ordered Chocolate ice cream and said that we should stick with one flavor to make the taste test more accurate.  We could fiddle with toppings though.  We all readily agreed.  Tess chose Cotton Candy, Tanner- Chocolate Chip Mint.  I said that I would select the "summer" special flavors in each to check creativity.  We nibbled, slurped, recorded, discussed.

After watching the movie "Maleficent", we wandered into Cold Stone.  The outdoor seating was spacious, the inside smaller, but had a "fun" atmosphere.  Again, we took out our score papers, munched, slurped, recorded our findings.  My summer special was so good that the trio dug into it after they inhaled their ice cream.  A few people passing recognized Darla Darling (my TV character) as they passed.  Tanner noticed and said we'd be a good commercial for Cold Stone.

After a dip, splash, hop and jump on The Greene's water pads (I warmed a bench, thank you) with live music playing, we went home to freshen up, regroup.  We still clutched our score sheets as we entered Graeter's - the last competitor.  The Trio agreed that the only thing that Graeter's had going for it was that they could eat ice cream in base ball helmet bowls.  My seasonal special...ugh.  Not so good.  Out door seating? Curb and a bench or two.  Eck.

After we finished our ice cream, we sat in Graeter's, around a table, to labor over finding a winner.  People watched us curiously as we tallied scores, discussed each venue from various points of view.  We were as serious, detailed and meticulous as if we were writing for the food critics at the New York Times.  For a minute, I sat back and listened to the conversation which for children, having eaten ice cream all day, was  intelligent, logical, an even respect of give and take.  Their teachers, if they had seen/heard, would want them to be so competent in school, to be sure.

The final results revealed that the three competitors were close.  The judges' combined scores were:  Cold Stone - 218; Maggie Moo's - 201; Graeter's - 195.  We awarded our GOLDEN ICE CREAM SCOOP to Cold Stone!

We gave each other High-Fives and folded up our score sheets for our scrapbooks.  I suppose, when the Trio are adults, they might look back on this wacky day with their Grandmother.  Not many people think of these things, when their broken ankle is bound in a walking cast, as an entertainment for their grandchildren.  Maybe I'll be a funny party story with which I leave them when I must.

So, the book is closed on THE TRIPLE THREAT ICE CREAM CHALLENGE!  How about a PIZZA CHALLENGE next?

NOT A PHONE PERSON ! SMOKE SIGNALS?

Faux Ami.  A person who you learn is not your friend afterall.  It happens.  I would rather have someone say directly and honestly, "Don't call me; I'll call you...NEVER!"  than play all sorts of excuse games.  Direct honesty might smart and sting, but the sensation of rejection passes and we can all move along happily.  I usually brag, if you will, that I have a sense of humor, so I can have a little fun with the phone challenged and the Faux Ami finally making a break from me.

Let me explain:

For years, Faux Ami and I were Vrai Amis, or so I thought.  She helped my daughter move twice, baby sat the trio once, helped with my daughter's second wedding and sat in a court room with her at the end of that road one day.  I helped with her wedding, helped with her daughter's wedding, painted murals, sewed poet shirts for groomsmen, hand beaded parts of the wedding dress, spent nearly a month picking up, playing with, etc her granddaughter. We didn't keep score, really.  Vrai Amis don't do that.  A recommendation was needed for a job.  I wrote it.  Explanation of employment or lack there of for her daughter's benefit.  I wrote it and delivered it immediately.  In order to write, deliver, help, make plans, phone calls were made.  The spoken word made necessities, requests, emergencies clear.  One does not know why a person is phoning, until he/she answers the phone.

Time passed:

For months, I would call and get Faux Ami's voice mail.  I recorded  so often, that I just might go platinum by the end of the year.  I would text.  After a day or two after my messages were left, I would receive lame texts, fewer, but lamer calls:  "My phone was dead; I couldn't find my phone; my phone was in the bottom of my purse, at the bottom of the stairs; I was asleep; I was in the shower; I was outside, the phone inside; I was in the car with my sister;  I was talking on my phone; my phone is wonkie..."  This went on for months and months, as I have said.

One day, I knew that I really needed just one hour of her time.  Just one hour and it was excruciatingly important.  About two days before I tried to phone...voicemail (I expected that); the next day, I tried to phone...voicemail (surprise?).  The day after I really, really needed just one hour, I received a text with yet another lame excuse.  I waved my white surrender flag... I apologized for bothering her and admitted defeat.

Days later, a friend told me that he ran into Faux Ami who said that she thought that I'm annoyed.  How old are we?  Deal directly, yes?  She went on to say that she doesn't answer the phone when I call because she is "not a phone person".   I respect that.  No chit-chat, no stories, no entertainment.  Valid.

But...

What about an emergency?  What about an invitation?  A question?  If Faux Ami does not answer, how does she know the reason of the call?  Of course, we know that it is MY number/call that will not be answered, so emergencies, invitations, questions are not issues.

However, for those of you who are not on her "no phone" list, I advise: Faux Ami is not a "phone person", so in case of emergency: SEND SMOKE SIGNALS!!!

FINE FEATHERED FREELOADING FRIENDS (or One Tough Crowd)

One afternoon, I was embroidering and sipping some Vanilla Chai Tea.  My reverie was shattered by my phone's Pirate Jig ringtone.  All three grandchildren - Todd, 10; tess, 9; Tanner, 6 happened to be on three separate extentions, screeching, giggling all at once.  The gist of the episode was a chorus of "Hey Meme!" (That's may-may) "Quick!  Turn on the television! We need the "I Spy Birdhouse"!  And, if you order right now, we can get a free bird feeder with it and a laser level!"  I tried asking what channel...another sales pitch in three part harmony.  I tried asking if they could jot down a phone number since this treasure was available only "as seen on TV"  The response was from Tanner: "What's a level?"  I asked if there was a web site.  Tess told Tanner that if he didn't know what a level was, he couldn't use it when it came.  I asked if there was an address.  Todd told Tess to stop and get to the business of buying the contraption.  In other words, I had three enthusiastic consumers leaving me to figure it all out and of course, pay for it.  After a little of the frenzy died down, I said that I would check it out and have my fingers do the surfing on my keyboard.  Tess reminded me that the "I Spy Birdhouse" had to be shipped to my house.  Mommy would have a conniption if they tried hanging it on any window at their house.  Of course.

I found the "I Spy Birdhouse", ordered the complete ensemble of house, feeder and level.  One day, during a visit, while the Trio and I were finishing lunch, there was a knock at the door.  A package was delivered!  There is little more thrilling for children than to receive a package.  The Trio tore into the box as if Christmas was suddenly declared.  We gathered around a table and as Tess read directions, Todd and Tanner engineered the new construction.  After Tess finished reading the directions and we had an assortment of extra pieces.  I re-read the directions as Tess dissembled the boys' work and Todd tried to put it together again.  The key to this is that the house has suction cups to hold it on the outside of a window and a one-way mirror film hangs inside of the window.  Birds are supposed to think that it is a private nook with a dark, solid back, which is actually the wall through which we can "spy" and see nest building, etc.  We took a step ladder out of the garage, tried it on for size and it was declared that Meme was the only one tall enough to stand on the ladder and reach one of the window panes targeted for the new house.  Yes, in the front dining room window.  With Tess holding the house and the boys steadying the ladder (ah-ha, yeah, that's the ticket - steadying) I climbed up, took the house from Tess and attached our new "I Spy Birdhouse" to the house window.  We returned inside to assemble the bird feeder.  Problems? Yep!  Nothing is simple.  The suction cup couldn't negotiate the sphere shape of the feeder to attach to the window.  So, I rigged wire going through it and attached it onto a rather tall rhododendron that brushes the targeted window.  Upon our return inside, Tanner picked up the level and asked what to do with it!  I told the children that we were supposed to use it to be sure that we hung the house straight.  Todd just looked at me and said, "Hey, Meme!  We're professionals.  We eye-balled it!" We filled the feeder with crushed saltines, having no bird seed.  Second to receiving a package, there is a rush when children can take turns smashing anything - crackers- no exception.  Inside, we attached the one way mirror film.  Priscilla, my cat, drew up a lease with option to buy and we scheduled an open house to encourage traffic and screen potential residents. 

For days now, birds have been chowing down on my crackers like little porkers!  I cannot keep the feeder full.  Those feathered mooches are bellying up to the feeder, loading up and not even leaving a tip!

Late in the afternoon, early evening-ish today, I was sipping a glass of wine on the back deck.  A sparrow perched itself on a wire near me, looking at me, he began to squawk!  It hopped around and complained like an irate diner who in an upscale restaurant, found a mouse doing the backstroke in his soup!  A cardinal joined him and began almost honking alerting his friends.  After a while, I had two wires full of hostile, complaining birds, apparently misreading Priscilla's menu board as a "Customer Service" sign! I think, but I can't be sure, that those freeloaders are becoming bored with saltines and want a change in menu!  Now, they are lousy tippers and have never put any cash in the donation jar!  What nervve.  Priscilla joined me on the deck and shared my amazement!  She is not as patient as I.  So, she went directly inside and raised the prices on the menu board and is now rewriting the lease to include a bigger meal plan and cleaning charges.  Commercial "add-ons".

Well, Mother Nature, I do not know if running a nesting Bed and Breakfast house is truly my vocation.  I am inclined to think that I am not cut out to feed the greedy hungry.  At best, Priscilla and I are going to video this fiasco and possibly run it on You-Tube:  FINE FEATHERED FREELOADING FRIENDS, or One Tough Crowd!