Intervention -- And a Recipe!

When I walked into  Karen's living room for Girls' Night, not only were Karen, Nikki, Emily and Alice there, but so were Janet, Kate and Missy. My birthday was months away, so it couldn't have been a surprise party, unless they wanted to make it a real surprise.

"Sit down, Charlie," Karen said. "We have to talk." Everyone was sitting in a circle looking looking very serious.

"Okay," I said. There weren't any chairs available, and I was about to sit on the floor, but Karen went in the kitchen and got a bar stool from the counter.

"Jesus, Karen," Nikki said, "Didn't you count? She can't sit on that." Saying Jesus in front of a priest wouldn't bother Nikki.

Karen got flustered. "Of course she can't. She can have my chair." It's a bad sign when people start talking about you as if you weren't there.

I thought I'd let them know I was. "What's going on? "

Janet looked at Kate. "I told you she wouldn't get it."

Kate opened her purse and gave Janet a five dollar bill. She looked a little sheepish. "We had a bet."

"Jesus, Kate," Nikki sighed.

"Sorry, Kate," I said. "She doesn't go to church. She never even went to Sunday School."

"Charlie," Janet said, "She's heard a lot worse." It seemed as if nobody had a name anymore or they had disappeared.

"Okay," Karen said, "Let's get back on track. Charlie, this is an intervention."

Did they think I was an alcoholic? I really only drink on Girls' Night. Had I been blacking out and not remembering?

"We're here because we love you and we don't want to see you ruin your life."

What had I done?

"Charlie," Emily said, "You have to give her up."

"Give who up?"

"It's all right, Charlie," Kate said. "Everyone makes makes bad decisions, especially when they're unhappy."

Janet looked huffy. "What has she got to be unhappy about? She's married to my son."

Alice weighed in, "You never know what goes on in someone else's house."

"And she has three beautiful children."

I thought I'd better speak up. "Give who up?" I asked again.

Emily patted my hand. "Don't be embarrassed. These things happen. She's a force of nature."

"Who's a force of nature?"

Emily looked exasperated. “Michele. She started going after you as soon as she met you. She talked abou you for two hours that night. Maybe she didn't realize it."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Emily?"

Maybe I shouldn't have been pleased, but I was. "What did she say?"

"That's not the point. The point is that she'll just break your heart."

"Not to mention Ed's and the children's," Missy added.

"She told me about what happened in the library."

"Nothing happened. We went up to the fourth floor and looked out the window."

"OK, Charlie." Emily sounded like she didn't believe me.

Then I understood. I couldn't believe it.

"Do you think Michele and I . . . hooked up?"

"Well . . . "

"I would never do that. I'm married."

"I know several women who thought they would never."

"Michele is nice, but she looks like Joyce Carol Oates." I was glad Ms. Oates wasn't in the room. I 'd hate to hurt her feelings.

"So you haven't . . ."

"No."

"What if you were single?" Karen asked. "And she didn't look like Joyce Carol Oates?"

"Karen, don't put ideas in her head."

"I'm just curious."

"You know," Missy said, "I brought two of my pineapple upside down cakes and I can't wait for you to try them. The cake is from a box, but it's organic."

"That sounds delicious," Kate said. "Why don't we all go get some coffee or a nice cup of tea?"

"I have wine," Karen said. Then everybody seemed to think the intervention had worked or they were frustrated or bored.

Kate took me aside. "How did you feel about all this?"

I shrugged. "It's kind of funny really."

I do wonder what Michele said about me after our dinner.

Missy's Pineapple Upside Cake

1 stick of butter

1 cup packed brown sugar

1 20 ounce can crushed pineapple, drained or 1 20 ounce can sliced pineapple, drained

maraschino cherries

1 box butter cake mix

Heat over to 350 degrees.

Prepare cake batter according to the instructions on the box.

Melt butter in a 13 X 9 X 2 pan in the oven.

Sprinkle brown sugar over the butter. Put in pineapple and cherries

Bake according to directions on the box.

Happy Birthday, Dear Charlotte!

 

April 21 is the birthday of Charlotte Bronte, one of the three sisters from whom Charlie McDonald got her three names.


From "Aunt Pooh Channels Nelly Dean", December 19, 2013:


In those days,” Aunt Pooh continued, “they didn’t have ultrasounds like they do now.  Your mother told me she was really hoping you’d be a girl.  She said she was only going to have one child, so he or she would be spared having older siblings bossing them or younger ones getting away with stuff they couldn’t and would never have to worry whether she and their father liked the others better.”

“Classic middle child,” Karen said.

“Exactly.  And she was the only scientist in a family of artsies.  My father taught English and my mother painted.  My brother is a music teacher.  He was never into books that much; I guess that’s why he agreed to give the children those names.*  That upset my mother more than Louie’s getting pregnant with a married man.” 

“It probably made her feel excluded.”  Karen and Nikki were in their element, practicing amateur analysis.

“Why, I never thought of that, but I bet that’s true.  She didn’t like to be out of the loop.  But, of course, she didn’t interfere, although she complained to Louie and me.  ‘Those children are going to feel like outcasts in the family,’ was how she put it.  She blamed him more than Judy.  Judy and her brothers and sisters were the five J's. ”

“But didn’t Charlie’s mother read?  After all she named her after the Brontes.”

“Well, that was my idea.  She wanted to name Charlie after our mother, but her name was Alice (Alice in Wonderland, you know) and your father’s first wife’s name was Alicia.  Actually, I wanted Emily Charlotte Anne, since Emily was really the better writer, but she liked Charlotte -- the name, I mean.  She probably hadn’t even seen the movies, since we didn’t have Netflix then.” 

*Most of the children in my mother's family were given names taken from literature, but Uncle Hank's children are Jessica, Jason, and Jennifer.  Uncle Hank's name is Henry James;  Aunt Judy wanted him to start calling himself H. James, but he wouldn't do it.

For more background, see "Cast of Characters". February 27, 2015. 

 

 

 

Another Friday, Another Dip

Karen and Nikki couldn't wait to have Michele at Girl's Night. Actually they were a little put out that I had been the first one to meet her. I said Emily thought meeting everyone at once would be too overwhelming. Nikki said she didn't think anything could overwhelm Michele.

"Is she still going to be here?" Karen asked. "Doesn't she have a job?"

"She's a painter. And she's independently wealthy."

"Alimony?" Nikki sneered.

"Now be nice, Nikki. It happens that her family has money."

"That they probably got by exploiting the poor."

"Meeting a novelist and a rich artist! We're on a roll." Karen likes to look on the bright side.

At first, Alice had been hesitant about coming. She thought it might be awkward. But then she decided it would be good for her artistic development, and anyway she didn't want to be a wuss.

For some reason, I was nervous about having everyone over. I took Friday off to clean and I got fancy cheese and crackers and dips from the intellectual deli that the faculty uses and made carrot cake.

I ended up making two cakes, so the troops wouldn't feel neglected.

Ed took Josh to the movies and the girls went to stay with Janet and Kate. Janet came to pick them up and offered to help me get ready.

Janet: So what's she like?

Me: Who?

Janet: Michele, of course. Sheesh! (Sheesh is Janet's favorite swear word. It incorporates "shit" and "Jesus". Janet is very creative.)

Me: Oh, she's very nice.

Betsey: What's that purple stuff?

Me: It's beet root and mint dip.

Janet: Sheesh! You're going all out for this chick.

Me: Cilla, you can have some olives before you go. (To Cilla, it's not a party without olives.)

Cilla: Can I have all three kinds? (I'd gotten two kinds of green and one kind of black.)

Janet: Have you seen much of her?

Me: Well, I've been busy, but we've been talking on the phone.

Janet: About what?

Me :Oh, things. Relationships and . . . things. You know.

Janet: Indeed.

Janet looked like she wanted to hang around and meet Michele, but the girls were clamoring to go.

We had a very nice time. Michele helped me in the kitchen. Everyone else stayed in the living room and got rowdy.

"Charlie," Nikki bellowed, "Come out here and entertain us."

"You're the hostess," Karen giggled.

"What are you doing in there?" Emily wanted to know.

Then they all started laughing. Maybe it was the wine. I'd gotten the really expensive kind.

"I don't know what's so funny," I said to Michele. I wondered if I should apologize for them. Michele just smiled.

Fortunately, Alice had stuck to diet soda, because she said she needed all her wits about her if she was going to spend the evening with Michele. So she was able to drive everyone home.

After they left, I had some carrot cake and olives. For some reason, hadn't eaten anything. I felt like I had a buzz, but then I realized that I hadn't drunk anything either. 



 

McDonalds March Mini Marathon -- Come with Joy to Meet the Lord -- But Be Mindful of Your Pants!

It's cold for Easter, but at least the sun’s out.  We had a delicious breakfast of hard boiled eggs (Cilla wanted to know why the insides of the eggs were still white.), bunny ears, and jelly beans.  We all like to wait until the Peeps get hard and crunchy (with shreds of Easter grass stuck to them).

We looked like a model family as we filed into church, until Josh took his jacket off and his shirttail was out.  When I tried to tuck it in, he said, “Mom, why are you putting your hand in my pants?”  Of course, he didn’t whisper. 

So I had to say just as loudly, “I’m just fixing your shirt.”

He said “Stop, you’re tickling me.”  Cilla was giggling and Betsey looked pained.  Ed was busy reading the Bulletin.  I looked over and saw that his fly was open.  I finished with Josh, reached across the girls and tapped him on the shoulder.  Then I discretely pointed at his crotch.  He looked puzzled, then shocked, like he thought I wanted to have sex with him.

Fortunately he was able to zip up before the processional.

Alleluia!

McDonalds Mini March Marathon -- The Butter Lamb

Unitarian Easter is not a big deal, although my cousins and I dyed eggs, we had an egg hunt at church, and my parents gave me a basket every year until I had Betsey, when they gave her a basket.  I always made baskets for the dog and cat.

My friends got new dresses and even new underwear, but as my mother pointed out, it was usually too cold for spring dresses and they had to wear coats and no one saw the underwear anyway.  I wore my “nice pants” (the ones that weren’t jeans – my mother was old fashioned that way) and whatever shirt was clean. (It’s supposed to be a cold Easter again.  The girls are complaining about having to wear coats over their new dresses.  I told them to offer it up.  Betsey pointed out that Lent would be over by Easter.  I said, “Well, pray that it warms up.”  I am not up to a theological debate with a ten-year-old.)

My grandmother or one of my aunts would have everyone over for dinner. One year, I found a lamb made of butter holding a red plastic flag and sitting in a bed of green Easter grass at the grocery store and begged my mother to let me take it to the dinner.

She said, “All right, but let’s not tell Daddy.”

I asked why and she looked uncomfortable.  “Let’s make it a surprise.”

My cousins loved the lamb, even after I told them it was butter and not white chocolate, and my grandmother kissed me and told me it was beautiful

The others weren’t so enthusiastic.

My father snorted and Uncle Hank said it was meaningless superstition.  Then my grandfather, who had been raised an Episcopalian, but had broken his parents’ hearts by becoming an atheist in college, said that Those People didn’t think it was meaningless;  the lamb represented Jesus, who supposedly was killed for everyone’s sins so they wouldn’t go to Hell.  He started singing “Oh Lamb of God/Sweet Lamb of God . . . Oh, wash me in your precious blood . . .” My cousin Jessica wailed, “Oh, the poor lamb!” and her sister Jennifer started crying.

Aunt Pooh stepped in and said that even though it was almost dinner time, we could each have one piece of candy.  Jennifer wiped her eyes and said, “How about two?”

We did get two pieces and no one’s appetite was spoiled.  The lamb stayed on the table, but every year after that my mother went food shopping by herself around Easter.

“Lamb of God” is one of my favorite hymns, although some priests don’t use it for fear it will scare off newcomers.  Cilla loves to sing it around the house, although Betsey says she is a big moron who doesn’t understand what it means.

McDonalds March Mini Marathon -- Maundy Memories

The service on the Thursday before Easter (Maundy Thursday) often includes everyone washing each other’s feet the way Jesus washed the feet of the Disciples the night before he died.  It is a moving spiritual experience that can help you understand the Easter story.  I’ve never been to one because the idea of anyone touching my feet (except children playing “this little piggy”) creeps me out.  Although you don’t have to participate, it would creep me out just to watch.

Janet and Kate have never given me a hard time about it.  Kate would probably love to get into the psychological issues but thinks it’s judgmental to question anyone’s religious practices.  Ed has never said anything one way or the other.

When Betsey was about four, Janet told her about going for a Holy Wednesday pedicure and she wanted to go too, since Janet said she always gets her toenails polished.  So it became a Grandma-granddaughter outing every year and when Cilla was four, she started going.  By then they had moved on to getting manicures.  If I ever get a manicure, the first thing I’ll have to say is “Well, I hope you like a challenge.”

The first year Cilla went, we were sitting around having snacks and drinks before Easter dinner when my mother complimented the girls on their pink (Cilla) and purple (Betsey) fingernails.    Cilla beamed.  “Thank you, Grandma Louie.  We got it for Monday Thursday.”

“It’s Maundy Thursday.” Betsey hissed, “Sheesh!”

My parents looked puzzled.  “You know, when Jesus washed the Disciples’ feet because in the olden days, everyone wore sandals all the time and their feet got all dusty.  So when someone came to visit you, you had to wash their feet.”

My mother was a Unitarian with little imagination.  “But you don’t wear sandals all the time, and when you do, your feet don’t get dusty.”  She might have said it was silly, but one thing I’ll say for the Unitarians is that they teach you to be respectful of other people’s ideas.

Unfortunately I slipped up on that.  “Jesus Christ, Mom, it’s a symbol.”

Everyone got quiet.  My father looked like he was about to say, “Now look here, young lady,” Betsey giggled, and Josh said, “She didn’t mean it, Grandma.  She’s sorry.”

“We got our toes done, too!”  Cilla started to take off her shoes and socks.

“Not now, Cilla,” I said.  “We’re going to eat soon,” But it was too late.  Cilla was sitting next to my father on the couch and she put her feet in his lap.  “See?”

“Very pretty.”

“Betsey and Grandma and Aunt Kate got theirs done, too.  Do you want to see?”  Janet has never been a favorite of my father’s.

“That won’t be necessary; I’m sure they’re very nice.” My father can really be quite courtly when he wants to be, but Janet, probably just to annoy him, took her shoes off.

“You do it, too, Aunt Kate.” Cilla squealed.  So Kate did and then Betsey and then Josh, although he didn’t have anything to show, until everyone was barefoot except Ed and me and my parents.  My mother apologized that she hadn’t had her toes painted.

“I just go get some more crackers,” I said. 

“And we need some olives,” Cilla piped up.  “It’s not festive without olives.”  As if the toe rainbow wasn’t festive enough. 

By the time dinner was ready, everyone had their shoes on, because as Kate had pointed out, Jesus and the Disciples had all put their sandals on to eat.

A better ending for to this would be for me to have an epiphany and go to the service the next year.  But I never have.  I am not known to be stubborn (which may be a polite way to say that I may be wishy-washy), so I think that every once in a while, I can put my foot down, even with plain toenails.

 

Meet the McDonalds March Mini Marathon -- A Wee Pinch of the Green

 

 

Josh discovered the old custom of pinching people who don’t wear green on St. Patrick’s Day.  Fortunately he didn’t get caught at school.  I could imagine his getting suspended and my having to decide whether Ed and I would go on the evening news as outraged parents whose child was being unfairly punished.  As they say in England, they’ll suspend your kid before you can say knife.  (I don’t know what this means, exactly, but they say it a lot in my English mystery books.)

Josh and Cilla both got me, but Ed had worn a green tie to work, so he was safe.  I told them that if they did it again, they would be severely punished (before they could say knife) and that I would tell their Dad.  I don’t like to be too specific, since I never know how much discipline I’ll be up to enforcing.

We had spinach lasagna, salad, peas, and orange soda (in honor of Northern Ireland) for dinner, with mint chocolate chip ice cream for dessert, along with Irish potato candies (butter, confectioner's sugar, and coconut rolled in little balls like potatoes and then rolled in cinnamon).