“Where do you get this stuff?” Steven asked. “Everyone knows a good breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“Well, yeah, if you have pie or ice cream,” Gramma replied.
Steven stared at her.
“Now about Israel. Aren’t you afraid of something happening to you there? You know. Like maybe getting killed?” Steven asked.
“Killed? Take me Lord, I’m comin’ home. No, I’m not afraid of getting killed. And, I don’t see what all the fuss is about. I’ve been to Israel before. Tel Aviv, Jericho, Bethlehem, all four Jerusalem Quarters, etc. etc. etc.” Gramma slurped more iced tea through her straw. “This is yummy. Thanks for lunch. You should do this more often, sweetheart. Let’s make plans for you to buy us lunch again real soon.”
She made her rice pudding dessert choice, recommending it to the others.
“When Grampa was alive, you two traveled a lot, but now that he’s passed, we thought you’d have gotten that out of your system. Maybe you could take it easy and hang around your house more,” Steven said. “Grampa could’ve been a spy with all the countries you two visited.”
Everyone, including Gramma, laughed at that absurd suggestion.
“A spy. What a crazy notion. Your Grampa a spy,” She chuckled. “Oh, if he was still with us, he’d get a big laugh out of that one. Yes, indeedy he would.”
“You’re right. That was a bit silly,” Steven confessed.
“I’d like to continue traveling as long as I’m able. I’ve met many nice people and have wonderful memories. Not as wonderful as those I have with you two, but good times nonetheless. I’ve even found talented beauticians in foreign countries. Got to keep my image up, you know. It’s so important to have an attractive and well-maintained hairdo. Where’s our rice pudding? Shouldn’t it have been served by now? I hope they put whipped cream on it.”
“I want to go with you,” Andy said. “You’re taking Lola to Ecuador. You promised I could go with you on one of your trips.”
“I wouldn’t mind going along some time, too,” Steven offered. “Cindy’d like to go, also.”
“Dad, you went a lot of places with Gramma and Grampa when you were younger,” Andy said. “It’s my turn, now. You and Mom can go another time.”
Gramma winked at him.
“We’ll find a great place we can all go to together. My treat,” Gramma said. She looked quizzically in the air, wrinkled face upturned.
“Hmmmm. Mexico? Naaah, was just there. Canada? Lovely country, but maybe another time. I’ve got it.” Gramma turned sharply to Andy. “How about Italy? We’ll go to gorgeous Italy. As soon as there’s an opening in my schedule. Grampa and I were there several times. I’ve fond memories of that country. Their desserts are spectacular. And those Italian beauticians are the best.”
“Awesome,” Andy said. “I’m learning Italian, so I can help you translate and read signs for you. Oh, that’s right, you speak Italian. And French too, right?”
“Oui,” Gramma said. “La nourriture est excellente,” she said, swallowing a spoonful of rice pudding with raisins. She wiped some whipped cream from her face.
“Oui,” Andy said.
CHAPTER 3
In Israel with Bibi, Boogie, Yehuda and Dan
Gramma adjusted her seat belt across her polyester, stretchy-waist pants. Glancing across her e-reader, she took a break to eyeball the occupant of a seat across the aisle. She guessed him to be middle aged. Frowning at his Chinese character neck tattoo, she strained to get a good look. Gramma cleaned her eyeglasses vigorously before peering through them again.
Neck-tattoo-man looked familiar to her.
Across the aisle, neck-tattoo-man stared her way. He shifted in his seat and looked back at the elderly woman. She seemed familiar to him. He turned to get a better view of her and struggled to remember where he knew her from.
Gramma turned her gaze aside, whistled a tune and pretended to be immersed in A Tale of Two Cities on her e-reader. “Everyone just loves Dickens, right?” she said to her seatmate by the window.
Seatmate, faking a nap, didn’t answer.
Gramma turned her attention to neck-tattoo-man.
Neck-tattoo-man seemed to have lost interest in Gramma. He got up, nudged his way to the aisle and went to the gender-neutral restroom in the middle of the plane. There was a lineup waiting to go in―mostly women. Waiting was not his strongest suit. He fidgeted.
A young woman with the words “Honey Bun” and a realistic looking pastry tattooed on her left forearm leaned next to neck-tattoo-man and whispered to him. She giggled and wiggled and pointed to his tattoo.
Gramma stood and stretched, looking away from the restroom while photographing neck-tattoo-man and Honey-Bun with a thumb drive, mini-camera hidden on her person.
Neck-tattoo-man and Honey-Bun became engrossed in one another’s tattoos. They proudly displayed them, comparing art and design. Shirts were lifted high and sleeves rolled up, showing off inky masterpieces. The bragging was knee-deep with grand self-compliments.
Honey Bun pulled her jeans down dangerously low off her bottom, giving the first five rows of passengers a view of her bodacious tramp stamp and beyond.
The reaction to the sight was mixed. Some couldn’t get enough while others thought it was more than they wanted to see. Frowns, smiles, groans and giggles followed.
“Hoochie Mama,” someone said.
“Who said that? Are you talkin’ ’bout me?” Honey Bun said.
No one confessed.
Gramma sat down.
“What’s that?’” Gramma’s seatmate asked, suddenly revived and pointing to the thumb drive the old woman was holding.
“Why, pictures of my grandchildren are on there. Wanna see them? They’re the prettiest, smartest grandchildren anywhere.” A big Gramma smile added emphasis. “Every one of ’em. I’ll show you their photos and tell you all about their achievements. They’re quite accomplished for how young they are.”
“Maybe later,” seatmate said unenthusiastically. He suddenly became sleepy and leaned back in his chair.
“I’ll be sure to remind you,” Gramma replied. “It’ll be a real treat for you. You’ll thank me for it.” She laid it on thick.
Seatmate groaned and pretended to read the plane evacuation pamphlet taken from the seat pocket in front of him.
Honey Bun sashayed down the aisle. Catching Gramma’s eye, she slowed her pace. “Guys with tattoos are so sexy, aren’t they?” She nodded toward neck-tattoo-man who was entering the bathroom.
“That neck tattoo is the Chinese character for ‘hate,’ ” Gramma said. “Not so sexy. He could’ve had something less angry inked on him. And what's with that unibrow he's sporting?”
Honey Bun moved on. She looked back with a scowl.
“How’d you know that?” seatmate asked, raising his eyes from the brochure.
“What? That he had a unibrow?”
“No. That his tattoo is the Chinese character for ‘hate.’”
“Saw it on television,” Gramma said. “One can learn so much from TV these days, don’tcha’ think? Not like when I was a kid and you had only a few channels which were all snowy. I remember when we had to get up to turn the channel using a knob on the television set. Now, when do you wanna see my grandchildren’s pictures?”
Seatmate fidgeted, frowned, and turned towards the window. He’d obviously lost interest.
Gramma looked down at a new text sent from Chatty Mae. ‘Poppy Gold’s at it again. Call me when you can.’
Gramma cringed at the thought of the one person in this world she disliked most and who hated her.
Poppy Gold.
Tel Aviv
“Thank you, for a safe flight,” Gramma said to the pilot.
He nodded her way and winked.
Gramma handled her carry-on and wheeled suitcase with little effort. She hurried off the plane.
A driver holding a placard that said, ‘Here to pick up Gramma,’ spied his object
of interest and ushered her toward the waiting limousine.
When the chauffeur put her baggage in the trunk, Gramma got in and closed the door.
“Gramma,” a big burley man in fatigues bellowed from the seat facing hers.
His friends beside him joined in.
“Yehuda,” Gramma bellowed back. “Bibi. Dan. Boogie. Good to see you all again. Have you fellas lost weight? Someone’s not feeding you enough,” Gramma said, alternately tapping one midriff then another. “I should’ve brought some shoo-fly pies with me or homemade sticky buns.”
At the mention of Gramma’s pastries, the men smiled broadly.
“Next time,” Boogie said. "I was hoping, though."
Hugs all around completed, Gramma and her friends addressed the reasons for their meeting. Satchels were opened and files placed on the table.
Business came first.
Gramma put the thumb drive next to the files.
The men pretended not to notice.
There was talk about neck-tattoo-man, Honey Bun, and their contacts in Ecuador and other points in South America. They discussed the cost of gasoline in their respective countries and the adventure they had fire-walking when they were together in Brazil.
“Remember how most people walked briskly across the coals so as not to get hurt? They still don’t know how we were able to stand on the hot coals for minutes at a time without getting burned,” Gramma said. “About every three months, someone from The Rio Times still calls me for an exclusive on it.”
“What do you tell them?” Yehuda asked. "I want to know, too."
“Trata-se de um misterio. Ele vai continuar a ser um misterio.” Gramma said. “It’s a mystery. It’ll remain a mystery.” She remembered her and Grampa walking the coals together, stopping in the middle to hug before resuming their stroll. She sighed at such fond memories.
“Good answer,” Yehuda said. “You and Grampa were amazing together.”
“We were, weren’t we?” Her eyes misted.
When the agenda was completed and the meeting finished, Dan slipped the thumb drive into his pocket.
“Don’t forget this,” Gramma said, pulling a folder from her pocketbook.
“I won’t,” Boogie said. “Is it all there?”
“Every photo, address, etc., etc., that you wanted. I love my job,” Gramma said.
“You’re the best clearing house we ever had,” Boogie said. “Bar none.”
“That’s me,” Gramma said. “I aim to please.”
“Driver,” Dan said. “It’s time for dinner. You know where to take us.” He turned to Gramma. “Our treat.”
Tel Aviv bustled with nightlife. Its tall buildings and cultural centers take a backseat to no other city in the world, but even the casual observer notices an undercurrent of unresolved issues in the air. Visitors, regardless of their origin, feel the deep-rooted historical attributes of the city and those who populate and travel there.
Throughout her weekend, Gramma alternately met with Bibi, Boogie, and groups of others.
“I’m sorry you won’t get a chance to do some sight-seeing this visit,” Boogie said. “I know how much you love traveling and seeing new things.”
“Remember what happened the last time we went to Masada?” Yehuda asked. “The specters, visions and sounds? There were ghosts everywhere.”
“How could I forget? Even though I didn’t see any, Andy said he did. He’s a grown man and couldn’t sleep without a night light on for two weeks after that,” Gramma said. “He says he still gets the creeps when we talk about it.”
“We should go back there soon,” Yehuda said. “I don’t know, maybe just to see if it happens again. Are you willing?”
“Sure. I always feel safe anywhere with all of you. I’m not so sure Andy’ll want to return there, though. I’ll ask him. If not, we’ll go without him.”
“We’re always glad to see you and your family, Gramma. Come visit us anytime,” Bibi said.
“Thank you. Grampa and I were fortunate to travel here to this beautiful country many times.” Gramma sighed then brightened. “I’ll be back. Bethlehem and Jerusalem will be my special destinations next time. You know how I love the Four Quarters. And the food and the shopping!” She thought for a moment. “I wonder if the beautician I like is still there in the Jerusalem hotel where I stay? I think it's important for a girl to always look her best, don't you?"
All four of the high-level government leaders nodded in agreement.
Chapter 4
Gramma at Home and the Gator Standoff
“How many puppies do you think she’ll have?” Gramma asked. She petted her Sweetums.
“Two,” the veterinarian said. “She’ll be just fine as long as you don’t let her get too fat.” He looked over his eyeglasses at her.
Their eyes met.
“Who me? When did I ever overfeed any of my pets? Huh? Name one time. Never mind.” Gramma pretended to be checking her nail polish. She flicked some purple flecks from her thumb.
The veterinarian just looked at her.
“She’s my wittle Sweetums,” Gramma said to her Pomeranian. “Gramma wuvs you.”
Eight-pound Sweetums tucked her head under Gramma’s hand, lapping up the attention she was sure she deserved.
“I’m glad I’m not one of those overindulgent pet owners who do nothing but fuss over their dog all the time. Yep. Not me. I’m too sensible for that. Come on Sweetums.” Gramma picked Sweetums up and cooed into her ear. She rubbed the dog’s big belly.
The veterinarian just looked at her.
At home
“What’d the vet say, Gramma?” Andy asked.
“He said Sweetums will deliver two puppies in a couple of weeks.”
“Awesome.” Andy exclaimed. “Can I have one?” Seeing the expression on Gramma’s face he said, “What’re you thinking about?”
“I’m still wondering how that happened.”
“Gramma,” Andy said. “What a question.”
“No. Not that. Just how it happened. The only time Sweetums was out of my sight was that day she crawled under the fence and ran around the neighborhood with the Poodle Twins who came to visit.”
“Oh, my Gosh,” Andy said. “You don’t think the father is Chatty Mae’s terrier, Rex, do you? Sneaky Rex? I bet he’s the culprit. He’s always got his devious, white self sitting in front of their mailbox, staring over this way. Waiting. Always waiting. Now I know why.”
“It could be. It can’t be Uncle’s beagle Obie because Uncle keeps him in his house or on a leash. You never see him traipsing off all over the place. And anyway, Obie’s too fat to wander off too far. Yep. It’s either Rex or that mixed breed of Carl’s. I hope it’s not Carl’s dog Doo-Doo. And who names a dog Doo-Doo?”
“Carl does,” Andy said.
“No puppies of mine are gonna have a father named Doo-Doo. Nope, Rex is better. Royalty. Kingly. Definitely not that beady-eyed Doo-Doo. I just don’t want to think Sweetums would get involved with a dog who has a name like that.”
Andy looked at his gramma. “Sometimes, you catch me off guard. You really do. Like now. It’s not like Sweetums has standards or anything. You know what I mean? We know she runs around the neighborhood with those Poodle Twins every chance she gets.”
“Saints preserve us. Whattya’ mean she doesn’t have standards? Of course Sweetums has standards. She’s got style and poise. She’s the ultimate grand supremacy of dogs. Her Worshipfulness. It’s the Poodle Twins’ fault she gets out of the yard. The two of them are a bad influence on my Sweetums. They come over here, and she follows them around. They’re shifty, little poodles. Cute as can be, but always up to something. My Sweetums would never do anything wrong if it weren’t for those poodles. Now about the father. Rex it is. Yep. It has to be Rex. Doo-Doo. No way. And it can’t be Obie.” She thought about Uncle’s chubby Beagle Obie and shrugged it off.
“What else did the vet say, Gramma?”
“He said I take good car
e of my pets. Made a good point of it. Keen observation by the vet, that’s what I say. Maybe he’ll want me to teach his clients a class there on how to take care of their animals or something like that. You know, improve their level of dog services."
“Wait a minute. The vet said you take good care of your pets?” Andy said, eyes wide. “Didn’t he say anything about your overfeeding them? Seriously. Didn’t he?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I brush Sweetums’ teeth. She gets fed regular. Now. I’m over this conversation. Let’s focus on something else. Hey, I know. Let’s Skype your sister tonight and see how this semester’s going for her.”
“Sure,” Andy said. “She’s coming home next weekend so let’s tell her we want to do something fun together. Any ideas?”
Gramma tapped her fingers on the wooden tabletop. “Hmmmm. No, we did that last time. No, not that; your father forbid it. He forbid that other thing, too.” She shook her head back and forth at her son Steven’s lack of enthusiasm for her adventures. “Your dad must take after someone else in the family. Certainly not me. We’ll think of something. In the meantime, I got it.” Her face brightened. “Let’s you and I go kayaking.”
“Great idea,” Andy said. “We’ll get the kayaks out from behind the shed and clean them up. We can go up Turtle Creek and out onto Indian River. Whattya’ think?”
“Great idea. You get started pulling the boats out and I’ll be right with you. I’ve got a few phone calls to make.”
“Ok. Just don’t take too long. You call your lady friends or Yehuda (he drew the name out for emphasis) and no telling how long you’ll be.”
Gramma swatted him with a rolled-up magazine and pointed to the back door.
When Andy was out of the house, she made some calls.
“Great. I’m glad the photos turned out well,” Gramma said. “Yes, the Honey-Bun girl was definitely schmoozing with him. She was all gaga over his tattoos. Thought he was sexy.” Gramma rolled her eyes. “Honey-Bun. Such a sweet name with such sour taste. I must say, the tattoos were beautifully executed, though.”
The Amazing Adventures of Gramma Page 2