The Pick-up Artist

 (You might enjoy listening to “I’m Just A Lonely Boy” by Paul Anka on the pink player to set the atmosphere for the following story. Scroll to the bottom of the screen and press the arrow.)

The other day I met my friend, Gerry, for lunch at Eat ‘n Park®, a local restaurant chain.  I love their soup and salad bar and as I was waiting my turn to ladle some soup into a bowl, an older gentleman began to look me over.  This guy was lingering by the hot soup and he continued smiling at me and giving me the eye. He inched his way nearer to me as I reached for the soup, and as he got closer he said, “You are a very attractive woman.”  Of course, I was flattered and a little startled but I said thank you and continued to ladle the soup.  

Then it hit me that this old man had tried to pick me up!  Since I was standing right in front of the pots of hot soup, it must have been an attempted Hot Pot of Potato Soup Pick-up.

Lots of people go to bars, say a place like Joe’s Bar and Grill, order a beer or a gin and tonic, and try to pick up a date.  Who knew that soup and salad bars have become the new pick-up hot spots?  It had not dawned on me that Eat ‘n Park, home of the Smiley Cookie®, was a place where men of a certain age might lurk around the soup and salad bar hoping to get lucky.  In fact, I wonder if cruising for pick-ups begins with the breakfast bar.  Maybe by the pancake section there are a lot of pick-up prospects before 10:00 AM.  Could it be that instead of buying someone a drink the new thing is to order them a Smiley Cookie? 

Gerry and I had quite a good laugh over this and I looked around the restaurant hoping to point the man out to her but I couldn’t find him.  I thought maybe he’d left the restaurant when all of a sudden he was standing at our table looking right at me.  Where did he come from?  This guy was persistent, I’ll give him that. “What are you girls doing today?” he asked.  I told him we were on a lunch break and leaving soon since I was meeting my husband who was playing golf.  I figured I needed to get this guy to understand our time was short and I was married.  He replied by saying, “I’m 88 years old and can still walk on my own.”  He was obviously quite proud of both his advanced age and his walking ability, which I complimented him on, and with that he walked away having failed at the pick-up attempt.  He didn’t even offer to buy us a Smiley Cookie.  He was still in Eat ‘n Park when Gerry and I left.  I suppose he was hoping for another pick-up opportunity and was quickly back to cruising the soup and salad bar.

This morning as Scott and I were reading the newspapers I saw an ad for Eat ‘n Park announcing that they are sponsoring Family Week at the Pittsburgh Zoo and PPG Aquarium®.  The ad promises a “New Party Every Day Celebrating the Zoo’s Animals!”  One day is Kids Kingdom Day, and there is Shark Day, Bear Day, Gorilla Day, PPG Aquarium Day, Polar Bear Day, Meet Your New Best Friend at the Zoo Day, and Monkey Around Day.  Yes, you read that right, Eat ‘n Park is sponsoring Monkey Around Day.  Maybe that’s where you can bring the person you’ve picked up at the soup ‘n salad bar. 

(You can check all this out at www.pittsburghzoo.org and look for the schedule for these special events below if you don’t believe me.)

Pittsburgh Zoo and PPG Aquarium Special Events for 07/02/2011 – 07/10/2011:

07/02/2011 - Eat'n Park Family Week - Kids Kingdom Day

07/03/2011 - Eat'n Park Family Week - Shark Day

07/04/2011 - Eat'n Park Family Week - Bear Day

07/05/2011 - Eat'n Park Family Week - Monkey Around Day

07/06/2011 - Eat'n Park Family Week - Gorilla Day

07/07/2011 - 07/08/2011 - Eat'n Park Family Week - Meet Your New Best Friend at the Zoo

07/09/2011 - Eat'n Park Family Week - PPG Aquarium Day

07/10/2011 - Eat'n Park Family Week - Polar Bear Day

 (You might enjoy listening to “Just One Look” by Linda Ronstadt on the pink player below to set the mood and enhance this part of the story.)

Actually this very same Eat ‘n Park was the scene of an earlier pick-up incident, but at that time I was the pick-up artist. I’d gone there with a couple of friends on a fall evening back in the late 1960”s.  At that time, you parked your car and the car hop came to the driver’s side window and took your order, brought it out to you when it was ready, hung the tray of food on the open window, and collected the money.  Just like in the movie American Graffiti.

(You can click this link if you want to see a short clip of the film and some car hops.)  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6Jo1gH89VM

Eat ‘n Park doesn’t have car hops anymore, now they have Smiley Cookies. 

As we waited for our food to arrive a shiny black car pulled up beside us and our driver, Joe, introduced us to a guy named Scott.  He was so-o-o-o good looking!  It was as if a bolt of lightning hit me and I almost passed out from heart palpitations.  So I suggested that Joe fix Scott up with another friend of ours, Karen, for a blind date.  The guys arranged to take Karen and me to a basketball game at the high school.  Scott sat in the back seat right behind me, with Karen sitting behind Joe as he drove to the game.  Scott was kind enough to open the car door for me as we arrived at the high school and he took my hand to help me out of the car.  Honestly, I’m not sure after that how it happened, but Karen and Joe made small talk for the rest of the night and Scott and I never quit holding hands.  Within a year we were married and next week we’ll celebrate our 44^th anniversary.  It was a very successful pick-up unlike the recent attempted Hot Pot of Potato Soup Pick-up.

Maybe we’ll celebrate our upcoming anniversary by returning to this same Eat ‘n Park for some lunch at the salad bar, then take a trip to the Pittsburgh Zoo and PPG Aquarium for a lesson in monkeying around, and top off the night with a Smiley Cookie.

Holy Cow

I was standing at the top of the steps the other day as Scott came up the staircase.  Our television is right at the top of the stairs and I turned away from the TV to give him a kiss and a hug leaving him to face the television.  As he returned the kiss and hug he quietly, slowly and softly ran his hand over my butt and said, “Holy Cow.”  Holy Cow?  I’ll say it one more time, HE SAID HOLY COW as he ran his hand softly and slowly over my butt. 

He seemed unaware that anything was seriously amiss.  Quietly, slowly and softly I suggested that he may want to rethink his comment to me, his loving wife.  “What are you talking about?” he asked as he tried to look innocent, confused, and surprised.  He adapted a questioning look as though maybe he had done something that he knew was wrong, didn’t want me to know he knew he’d done something wrong, hoped I hadn’t noticed or heard him say anything wrong, and pretended he didn’t know what it could possibly be.  He even tried to appear insulted that I might be offended by anything he might have said.   When I told him he should not put his hand on my butt and then say, “Holy Cow,” he looked offended that I would be offended.  He claimed it was just a comment in response to what he saw on the TV program that was on at the time, purely coincidental. At the time the news was on television and they weren’t talking about cows, farm animals, farms, farmers, farming, milk, beef, leather, cow bells, or anything else that such a comment would apply to.

I would have been inclined to believe him except that he was wearing his Yankee Doodle Dandy pajamas.  No, that is not a joke or a misprint.  These pajamas are white pants with a red and blue stripe down the outside of each leg.  He usually pairs these pants with a red t-shirt.  When he puts them on I never know whether to salute and sing the National Anthem or sing a few verses of I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy.  It’s difficult to take someone seriously who only needs to stick a feather in his cap to complete the look.

(You can go to the music playlist at the bottom of this page and listen to both of these songs to enhance your mental picture of what this might look like.)

I realize that those of you who know me might become alarmed that I would even attempt to break out in song since I’ve never been known as much of a singer.  And let’s be honest the National Anthem is a challenging song.  Christina Aguilera botched it during the Super Bowl (as did our beloved Steelers), and she is a pretty good singer.  But recently I have discovered my voice, just as she apparently has on the TV show, “The Voice.”  I’ve even watched the YouTube video lesson on how to become a better singer by voice and singing coach, Naomi TK, at http://www.youtube.com/user/voicercise. 

This past year as I’ve sung the hymns in church I’ve noticed the rest of the congregation looking at me, nodding affirmatively and smiling.  Because of this lovely and positive reaction I have become more confident and comfortable vocally and I don’t think another singing lesson is really necessary at this point.  Now I sing out with joy, gusto, and complete abandon.   It’s encouraging to see that my voice is improving and is getting noticed with such favorable expressions of appreciation.   I have even begun to contemplate making a YouTube audition video.

However, if there is another “Holy Cow” comment or reference to me, verbally or physically, from my patriotically attired spouse, he will be standing on the front porch in his Yankee Doodle Dandy pajamas ringing a cow bell while I sing to the hills and stick a feather in his cap.  Or somewhere else.

 

Woe is Me

I’ve taken a break from my blog and it’s been longer than I thought it would be.  Thanks to all of you who have been encouraging me to get back to it.  The reasons for the break are both complicated and simple.  The simple explanation is that I’ve been lazy.  Frankly, lazy has a bad connotation but I find it to be a welcome relief from doing what I don’t want to do.  I’m all for declaring a holiday called Lazy Day.  No mail, no government work (less for them to screw up for one day), no garbage collection, no work of any kind.  Scott would get an extra day, too, even though he has that weekly “retired, but day off day.”  Frankly, I’m seeing a lot of those “retired, but day off days” from him.  I think he’s trying to slip in an extra day or two some weeks.  He’s forgotten about his Swiffer housework and hopes I won’t notice.  Ha! 

The more complicated reason is that I’ve moved into the angry part of grief.  From what I’ve read there are at least five stages of grief:  denial and isolation, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.  These five stages don’t happen to everyone and they don’t necessarily follow the same order.  I’ve been through the denial and isolation, don’t plan to bargain with God to give my mom back to me because I know she’s whole now, out of pain and happy.  I can accept that she’s dead although sometimes I still pretend she’s alive and well in Florida.  I even find myself reaching for the phone to call her with some news.  So that leaves the anger part.  And frankly, I’m pretty angry at my mom.  That has led to a little depression. 

Woe is me, I say. 

 As I think back over my life and the time I was fortunate enough to have a loving mother and father, I’ve had to accept that they were not just my mom and dad, but human beings.  It’s taken me three and a half years since my mom’s death to get to this point.  I’m a very slow learner.  Family and friends that I’ve talked with agree with me that a mom is a mom and a dad is a dad period.  They are not people, they are moms and dads.  It turns out though that they are also real, living people with the same strengths and weaknesses as every other human being.

Recently I read a description someone was giving about her friend, “Jane.”  

Upon meeting “Marilyn” Jane said:  “You are very pretty.”

 “Marilyn” thanked “Jane” and remarked that people didn’t tell her she was pretty so the compliment was very much appreciated. 

“Jane” then told “Marilyn” that others didn’t tell her she was pretty because she was so fat.

This could have been written about my mother!  She was the "Jane" person.  Mom was very direct, very frank, had a very quick wit, and was often brutally honest without understanding that what she meant as a compliment could quickly be misinterpreted as something hurtful to the point of negating the compliment.  My mother would counter that “Marilyn” already knew she was fat but she didn’t know she was pretty.  She’d be surprised to find out that “Marilyn” had already forgotten the pretty part and would forever remember the fat part.  Family stories like this abound and they are usually told with a great deal of love and laughter in the telling.  She was always upset and hurt when she realized that something she said might have been hurtful.  It was never her intention.  I miss her humor.  Her take on what life threw her way and life’s situations was always unique, brilliant, often hilarious.

That was the human part of the person who was my mother.  She grew up in a home where everyone was outspoken, opinionated, witty, faithful and religious, loyal and loving.  My father, in contrast, grew up in a quiet, private, loyal and loving, faithful and religious family.  Note the quiet reference.  Life was exciting and often volatile in our house because of their differences. 

 I miss them both and am angry that they left me to fend for myself to try to discover the human beings that each of them were. I’ve been having a pity party.  Now I’ll get back to this blog, leave the anger behind and concentrate on all my blessings.

Stay tuned.  But for now let me wallow and be self indulgent for another day. 

As I said before, woe is me.

 Paul

A couple of weeks ago my cousin Paul passed away.  My father had 18 nieces and nephews and since Daddy was the last of 7 children, some of his nieces and nephews were born while he was still living at home.  He loved them all and each of them is very loved and special, yet I think everyone in our family would tell you that Paul was exceptional.  His father passed away when he was just eight months old and everyone had a part in looking after him and his 3 sisters.  This family of grandparents, aunts, uncles, sisters, brothers and cousins made certain that each person had a sense of love and family.  Paul carried that tradition on to his wife, children and grandchildren and gave all of us the gift of love and family by his example.  At our last reunion Paul thanked his wife, Barbara, for his wonderful life.  Paul gave so many of us an example of what a family truly was and how wonderful life could be.  He was greatly loved and will be greatly missed.