T.M.I.

My cousin gave me three beautiful garlic bulbs of fresh garlic she'd grown in her garden. She recommended they be dried first before I used it. So I tied them up and hung them from a hook in my kitchen. They looked a little odd but I figured in a couple of weeks I could take them apart, peel the cloves and put them in a jar of virgin olive oil. Then... a few weeks more... I'd have me a jar of magic!

I hadn't counted on the boys. Charlie caught sight of the hanging garlic as soon as he entered the kitchen today. His face clouded. "What are you doing with those?" he demanded.

I explained about drying the cloves and then making my olive oil garlic.

"Whew!" he exclaimed, his face returning to happiness. "For a minute there, I thought maybe you were trying to scare away vampires!"

Downhill From Here

A short sentence from the soon-to-be-six-year-old as he departed from the bathroom got my attention. "Uh - Grandma! I think we've got a Big Problem. There's two things..."

Me (gulping): "What are they?"

"One: The toilet might be plugged up. Two: We're out of toilet paper!"


Okay, so that's the way the day started. Now the Soon-To-Be-Six-Year-Old turns six tomorrow and I wanted to make him a special cake. When I visited in March, I had a baker's catalogue with me and showed Sage a picture of some silicone cupcake "people" you can decorate up to look like monsters. They're a silicon cupcake cup set on big colored silicone shoes. They're pretty cute and Sage agreed these would make a great birthday cake for his sixth birthday.

Tonight, after the kids departed, I set to work. The cupcakes baked okay, but were a bit wobbly. The problem was, in the picture they showed, their cake tops rise majestically out of the cupcake wrappers and mine barely came to the top. Their tops were big and rounded and they used wonderful squiggles of icing to make it look like long orange fur. I'd have to add a gob of frosting to make mine 'rise' out of the cupcake cup. I mixed up an extra large batch of buttercream icing and then sliced some of the extra cupcakes I'd baked in half and 'glued' the tops on the silly feet cupcakes in the silicon molds. At least, now my monster people had tops big enough to frost.

But my icing proved too soft for good 'hair' texture. The icing hair was soon melting in my overheated kitchen and losing its shape. Plus, some of the glued tops of the other cupcakes I'd attached were overwhelming the silicon feet and they were lurching forward once I'd iced them, unable to stand up. Things were getting wonky in a hurry.

I jammed on Skittles for eyes and gummy candies for gooey smiles, then hurried the cupcakes one by one out to the spare refrigerator as I finished each one. Suddenly, making twelve Silly Monster cupcakes was assuming bigger proportions. I'd been at it for two hours when I carefully took the last one out. The top shelf of the refrigerator looked like a drunken party of frosting monsters. One leaned confidentially forward into another like he was imparting a drunken secret. Another had planted himself face forward onto the glass shelf. When I tried to right him, his face fell off in my hands. I had more frosting on my hands than I wanted to lick off. The door knobs on the back door and the refrigerator door were sticky with orange or blue icing (the color of my monsters).

Oh dear! The things I can talk myself into just for the approval of a sweet little ole six year old! I think he'll approve even if it wasn't the easiest cake decorating job. I have a much higher esteem for those in the industry who earn their living decorating with icing.

Tomorrow's the big day!

Ice Cream Summer

The boys and I went over to the boathouse on Friday afternoon. We got a new ice cream freezer and the boys were anxious to sample a Super Cone, a monstrous ice cream cone covered with chocolate and nuts. Ice cream cones bought, we seated ourselves on the bench in front of the boathouse and the kids started eating through the chocolate shell to the ice cream below. Nuts fell like rain to the pavement and Chuy anxiously devoured every little speck that rained down.

A lady came by reining in a high energy Husky. The dog was a light brown, with a white stripe down his face and looked pleasing with one green eye and one blue eye. Chuy stopped eating the nuts and zeroed his attention in on the dog. It looked enough like a wolf to be mesmerizing and Chuy is a magnet for wolf-type dogs. It's like they're going to open up the world for him. Every time he's ever seen a dog that looks like a second generation to a wolf, he goes Ga-Ga over it.

Anyway, I introduced Chuy to the lady and she said the dog's name was Cody and funny enough, both dogs were fifteen months old. Only thing was, Cody outweighed Chuy by sixty pounds, but that didn't bother the young dogs. They immediately went romping at each other: laying their upper bodies and paws out flat and thrusting their heads toward each other, daring the other one to move first, then flinging their bodies upward at the same time. Quickly they'd resume their flattened stance and wait for the other to move first. Amazing to me how dogs presume to know the rituals of play, but they sure do. And this dog was just as adept as Chuy at this new game.

The lady and I watched our dogs (both on leashes, but both playing avidly) with each other for a few minutes. There was never a hint that the bigger Cody would nip at little Chuy, in the two puppies' eyes, they were equals. The boys continued to eat their ice creams, the nuts and chocolate gone now and just the cones and ice cream left. A few nut pieces remained on the ground now that Chuy had met a new friend to romp with.

Charlie finished his cone and licked his sticky fingers. I told him to go inside to wash his face before we continued on our beach walk. Sage handed me his still mostly full of ice cream cone. "I'm done," he stated, and followed his brother inside to clean up.

"Chuy! You want some ice cream?" I asked.

Chuy forgot his new playmate and his game and materialized at my side. Ice cream cones are one of his favorite foods in the whole world. With Bill's and my help, he had discovered Dari Queen on the end of our walks in Superior and was a most obedient licker of ice cream.

"There's too much for you to eat it all," I told him, proceeding to hold the cone out to Chuy. "Would Cody be able to eat a bite or two?" I asked the lady.

"I'm sure he would," she agreed. "He loves ice cream."

Chuy was already taking two or three swipes of the ice cream with his tongue. He's one of those who savor ice cream, taking it lick after satisfying lick. Vicariously, I enjoy the ice cream as I watch it slowly disappear into Chuy's mouth. Man, he can make it look good!

But since Chuy had a new friend to share, after a couple of long licks from Chuy, I took the cone and held it out to Cody. He was right at my side in a moment as well. (Nothing like a good ice cream for getting your dog to obey!) His mouth opened, but instead of a tongue coming out to take a lick, the whole end of the ice cream cone disappeared into the Husky's mouth. "What!" I yelped.

Chuy stood patiently for his next turn, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, ready for his lick.

The ice cream and its cone disappeared down the Husky's throat.

"Oh dear, Chuy, I think your friend finished the cone." Chuy looked over and drew his tongue back into his mouth. I detected some spittle at the side of his mouth. Poor doggie had expected more!

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" the lady apologized. "Cody does love ice cream. Shall I buy you another?"

"Certainly, not," I assured her. "Sage had what he wanted and I didn't want Chuy to have that much." Chuy looked at me as though he would have answered much differently.

The lady turned to her husband. "Go inside and buy us some ice cream. Cody could probably eat some more."

The boys came out and we diverted the ice cream eating Chuy into a Running-After-Boys-On-The-Beach-Dog. Later, the ladies in the boathouse told me they'd sold out of half their ice cream on Friday afternoon. Whether it was the little boys enjoying their cones that drew the customers or the puppies slurping up ice cream cones, that was the big draw for that afternoon.

Forgetful

School has been out for a whopping four days and Sage was watching the Nick channel in the afternoon. A commercial came on for Sylvan, a children's tutoring service, where the little boy gets out of the pool and while he shakes water out of his ear, all the learning he'd done in the past school year falls out as well. Sylvan implores the parents to enroll their child in the summer program so their child won't fall behind.

Sage watched the commercial raptly, then yelped, "Oh... gosh!" in an extremely dismayed tone.

"What's the matter?" I asked, thinking he'd hurt himself.

"I think I've forgotten everything I learned in kindergarten!"

"What?!!" Unaware of what commercial he'd just been watching.

"Oh no, wait a minute...." His little body relaxed. "No, it's okay. I didn't forget. I can remember what I learned."

Oh good! I hate it when I forget a whole year's worth of learning and actvities. That sucks! Have a better day.

Old Customers

We had a full house at the boat landing this past week-end. The lowest tides of the year, some as low as a minus two foot ran during the week and that resulted in a lot of clammers and abalone divers visiting us. We were real busy in the boathouse renting boats and getting boats launched and tackle sold.

A lady came in to launch her boat and buy fishing licenses with her extended family. We only see her once a year for the low tides. She's been coming close to thirty years and though her face is familiar and I know she only comes once a year, I cannot remember her name. This lady is distinguished in that we'd come to know her as a pain-in-the-ass sort of customer. She would always show up for her boat rental on a busy low tide Saturday. She dithered around with obtaining licenses and copious quantities of saltwater taffy and never had her paperwork in order. It would invariably take us twice as long to take care of her compared to our other customers. Kerry and Pam and I usually tried to pawn this customer off on the other guy as we didn't want to be bothered with her.

This year, our customer had the look of the Cancer Ladies. You're surely familiar with the Look: a little cloche hat or tight scarf tied to their hairless head accompanied by that weary look of too much pain. She was also moving with a cane, quite slowly and looked to be consumed by the disease. But she was stalwartly trying to present a sunny side up disposition to her family. (I have no idea how she fared getting into and out of the boat on the clam beds and moving around on the mud flats with that cane.) She intoned to Pam that this year would be her last. We took it to mean that her cancer was terminal not just that maybe she'd had enough of clam digging after thirty years.

She got her paperwork done eventually and filled her pockets with two bags of taffy which they would consume on the clam beds. But then we proceeded to wait for her son. We always waited for her son. He was always the last to come into the boathouse and would need to fill out his fishing license. It'd been this way ever since he'd turned sixteen and needed a license. He had to be somewhere in his thirties now. He was a fat, selfish young man, thoroughly involved in his own activities. I never saw him pay much attention to his attentive mother. Over the thirty something years we knew her, she doted on him. There was nothing wrong with this fat, greedy boy in her book. When he finally showed up this year, still late, of course, I was a bit gratified to see that he was a bit less fixated on himself and allowed his mother a wee bit of attention, since it would be her last year clam digging.

They departed for the clam beds and I felt depressed. This surely, would be the last time we'd see her and I couldn't even remember her name. It's not like we don't see our old customers die each year. The older we get, the more names we collect each year. It used to be maybe three to five a year we'd lose, now, it's more like one or two dozen! And it depresses me to know they'll just be names we conjure up in our conversations about "The Old Days" and we won't see them anymore. But I guess that's the way it has to be after running this business for fifty one years. Sometimes I think we'll have a bigger crowd of spirits on the Other Side enjoying our area in ghostly form than the physical bodies actually coming out to enjoy. What a crowd we have building!

Shafted Again

Did anybody catch that made for TV movie, "The Andromeda Strain" on the Biography Channel over the Memorial Day week-end? They're still airing it, in case you didn't see it. I didn't watch the whole thing. But I was watching the commercials.

On May 1st, at the Superior Town Council meeting, the businessman who owns the bar/restaurant that is never open appeared before the council and asked permission for a commercial for Ford be filmed in town. It would take part of Friday afternoon and most of the day on Saturday and involve closing portions of Main Street for filming. In his words, this Ford commercial would be aired during the release of the remake of "The Andromeda Strain" and would look something like this: A couple would be traveling on a long journey and come through our town, taking a careful look at Main Street and be so intrigued with it, then go about their business and wind up at a big casino (presumably Vegas) but remember our town longingly with the end result being Superior's Main Street superimposed with the Manhattan skyline in the background. The gist of the commercial would be that the journey is more fun than the destination. (Sounds like Harley Davidson's advertising, huh?)

So the Mayor and the Town Council gave their approval and the Ford people gave the council a measly $750. for the recreation fund. (Let me tell you, Superior, the Going Rate for commercials up here in Marin County is WAY more than $750! You could have held out for more!)

Anyway, I wanted to watch the movie to see how they portrayed our town. Goodness knows, Superior has been having some Hard Times lately getting the ball rolling economically and maybe this would add some impetus to it. HARDLY! The ad I saw showed an attractive young couple drive into Main Street and park and get out. The montage quickly showed shot after shot of our decaying downtown buildings, notably the ones owned by the professor in Tempe who buys up all the Main Street business buildings and then waits and lets them rot away... (the why? hasn't been made clear to me yet). The girl looks to the guy, pulling her jacket closer around her (obviously the commercial made it look like it was real cold that day, instead of the ninety five degrees it really was when they filmed) and she whines, "This is spooky! Let's get outa here!" And they jump in the pretty Ford Focus and speed out of town and arrive breathlessly seconds later at a rockin' rollin' casino with lots of neon and scantily dressed young people falling out of it.

I was astounded and upset over it! Once again, Big Business had set about to show our pretty little town in a bad light. Will they never stop? What is about the purity and simplicity of Superior that we all love that makes business and society yank it down and mess it up? I think next time a commercial is made in Superior, the Council and the Mayor better be asking some more detailed questions and ask to see a storyboard before agreeing to what one man's version of the commercial will be. ... And ask for more than $750, why don't you? If the movie people are that hot to use our town, the least we could do is ask for $1,500!

Grandma Duty

Oh, it's good to resume Grandma-Duty again now that I've returned to Dillon Beach. I was unprepared for how many unanswered questions the children have been storing up for me, or the adventures they have planned for the summer. In their eyes, I'm still a peer-aged playmate, not some doddy old woman looking at getting older. They're looking to me to help supply them with a Sun-Filled-Action-Packed-Summer-of-Fun! (Goodness, what a big order!)

Also, I need to apologize for taking so long to resume the Blog. I hadn't realized how integral good wireless connections were to the Blog and though I've supposedly 'reconnected' with the wireless company we used to have here in Dillon Beach, they tell me it will be another two to three weeks before I'm 'wired up', so that leaves a crackly phone line connection for the time being, and some days it just plain doesn't work!

Okay, so that's my excuse, now on with the Grandma Thing. Charlie, still, calls me Mackey. He probably always will. It was his special name for me when he was about eighteen or twenty months old and it doesn't matter if he'll turn nine in the fall, he'll probably still be calling me Mackey when he's thirty. Sage, though, well, he was loathe at some point to call me "Mackey" and this past year he is very pointedly calling me, "Grandma", every sound and syllable firmly intact. Sage has just completed a semester of speech training in kindergarten and delights in pronouncing some old 'hard' words, like "yellow" and "railroad" with exquisite clarity. The time was right for the training and the little guy's sweet little lisp and inability to pronouce "r's" are now a thing of the past. (Doggone it! It was pretty cute!) The speech training seemingly opened up worlds for Sage to talk about as well. There was a time when he was two and a half that I worried he'd ever be a talker. His brother interpreted most of his wants and I worried that he'd ever fully express himself. I needn't have. He is expressing himself wonderfully well.

I celebrated my birthday last week and for my present, I have invited my sons and their families out to a family fun center for an evening of raucous fun, particularly water bumper boats and Indie car rides, Laser tag and the multitudinous video arcade. Sage is wildly excited and hopes he has grown tall enough to partake in some of the activities that were closed to him last year.

I was resting on the couch, trying to read a book when he climbed up behind me and hung over the back of the couch. "I wonder if they still have the pinball game, Grandma. I hope they do! Do you think I'll be tall enough to play that pinball game this year?"

"I don't know, Sage. I hope you will be..."

"Well, I HOPE I'm tall enough to play that pinball game. I have grown this year. Last year, let's see.... it was about to here on me and I couldn't see to play it. But you know, I've grown a lot taller now so I hope I'm tall enough to play that pinball game."

"I hope so!" I agreed, (trying to find the place in my book again).

"Well, I might be tall enough. And if I'm not, do you think they'd have a stool I could stand on to play the game? Or a chair! I could just drag a chair over and stand on that. Then I could play that game!"

"I doubt they would let you stand on a chair, Sage," I warned, (my place in the book permanently lost again).

"Well, the pinball game I want to play is right against that wall and there were chairs right there! I bet I could stand on one of them."

"We'll see..."

"I sure hope I'm tall enough. I certainly would like to play that pinball game!"

Tonight's the night for the Big Event. I'll have to blog about the outcome in a few days. Stay tuned!