Balancing Act (Circa 1971)

“

 

“Mom. Can I take ballet lessons?”

“Last week you wanted to be an air hostess for Pan Am because you liked the hats they wore. Remember?” my mother reminds me, while peeling carrots.

 

“No, no, no. Not because of the hats. Because I want to travel—someday. But all I want to do right now is take a ballet class. Not choose a career.”

 

“Val, if you want to travel so much, be a train engineer.” (This from Buddy, my brilliant 14-year-old brother.) “And you could still wear one of those to-do skirts.”

 

“It’s a tutu, doofus,” I say in exasperation.

 

“Right, Princess,” my dad interjects. “You can do whatever you want, but you are only eleven, or nearly so. You’ve got a lot of time to think about it.”

 

Suddenly my mother is pointing her knife at me across the table. “This is all Katherine Juckett’s idea, isn’t it? I swear, if that girl was going to join the space program, you’d want to do that too.”

 

“Riiight!” My know-it-all brother laughs. “Like girls will ever go into space. I don’t think so.” He pauses. “I know, Val—why don’t you be a bus driver? You could travel and still be home every night for Mom’s delicious cooking.”

 

“It has nothing to do with Kit, Mom. And for your information, Buddy, the Russians already sent a woman into space. Nearly ten years ago.”

 

My mom is shaking her head. “No, dear, not ballet. It’s not for you. You are . . . the wrong body type.”

 

I’m afraid to know what she considers the right body type, but she obliges me anyway.

 

“You are too short. Ballet dancers have to be about seven feet tall.”

 

“I think you might be confusing dancers with basketball players.” My dad grins.

 

“Geez, Mom, all I wanted was to take a few ballet classes. I’m not asking to fly a rocket to the moon or try out for the Bulls.”

 

“Well, thank goodness for that.” My mom has returned to her carrots. “What about being a secretary? That’s a nice job for a young woman.”

***

My mom let me enroll in tap dancing, which she said would use a lot of energy. But something had apparently made an impression on her. For my birthday, she made a carrot cake and gave me a jewelry box lined with pink velvet. Perched inside was a beautiful plastic ballerina. When I twisted the wind-up key, she began twirling to some lovely old-fashioned music. She was perfect. And just the right height, about two and a half inches.

Read more about Val’s ballerina jewelry box in Knowing People, the latest in The Val & Kit Mystery Series.

 

 

A Boy and His Dog (Circa 1970)

 

Mom: Daddy is taking you kids to a movie today. I’m going to—

Daddy: I am?

Buddy: He is? I don’t think I can go, I have stuff to do—

Mom: And while you’re gone, I’m going to give your bedrooms a thorough cleaning. Especially yours, Buddy.

Buddy: No, Mom, totally not necessary. I cleaned my room last night.

Mom: Buddy, I don’t consider rolling nine socks into a ball and tossing them into the corner of your room any form of cleaning. And besides, I want to take a look under your bed.

Buddy: Mom, there’s nothing under there.

Mom: Really? Because this morning while you were taking your so-called shower, I detected a peculiar smell coming from your bedroom.

Buddy: Uh . . . that was probably my football jersey. It’s covered in mud.

Mom: Son, while I can see that storing a football jersey under your bed is an excellent idea, along with a couple of questionable magazines, not to mention a—

Buddy: I’m keeping those magazines for a friend.

Mom: I see. And does this friend of yours have four legs, by any chance? And a wet nose? Oh, and a tail?

Daddy: What’s going on here?

Mom: It seems we have a new addition to our family.

Val: Did you have another baby, Mom?

Mom: Yes, Valerie. You’ve guessed it. You should be a detective when you grow up. Last night, while you were all watching Bonanza, I had a baby, and I stored it under Buddy’s bed for safekeeping.

Daddy: Will someone please tell me what’s happening here?

Mom rises from the kitchen table, goes out into the yard, and returns carrying a little dog of indeterminable age.

Val: It’s a doggy.

Mom: Valerie, again your powers of observation amaze me.

Buddy: She followed me home last night. Can we please keep her? I promise I’ll take care of her; you won’t have to do a thing. She’s so sweet, you’ll hardly notice she’s here—

Mom: She already chewed one of your gym shoes, and by the way, she’s finished reading one of the magazines under your bed. I hope your friend wasn’t overly attached to Miss October, who seems to have an unnaturally small waist.

Val: Can we keep her, please, please, please. She’s so cute and—

Buddy: I promise you won’t even know she’s here. Please, Mom. Dad, please, can we?

Daddy looks at Mom, who is holding her coffee cup up to her face in both hands. The dog is sitting quietly on her lap.

Mom: Maybe. We’ll put out some flyers and see if she’s just lost. But she is your responsibility, Buddy. And you can pay for some new gym shoes out of your allowance.

Buddy: I will, no problem. And I’ll buy her food and a basket for her to sleep in and—

Mom: Well, let’s hope Sears is hiring twelve-year-olds, because your allowance is not going to cover it.

We called her Buttercup, after Dick Butkus, Buddy’s favorite Bears player. She lived with us for five years before she passed on. And her basket, kept in Buddy’s room, was only ever used as target practice for his rolled-up socks. Every night Buttercup crawled under Buddy’s bed to sleep. Peacefully.

Read about grown-up Buddy in the latest Val & Kit Mystery, Knowing People.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy New Year!

 

Daddy: Why are you looking so sad, Sally? It’s the first day of the New Year; you should be celebrating.

Sally: Like you and Mommy did last night?

Daddy: Well, no; obviously, not like that. That got a little bit out of hand. I had no idea your mommy was such a superb salsa dancer. Poor thing, she is probably feeling the worse for wear this morning. Why don’t we take her some coffee in bed?

Sally: She’s already had her coffee. She went for a run an hour ago, and now she’s out shoveling the sidewalk.

Daddy: Well, you know Mommy; she’s a little bit of an overachiever. Do you know what that means?

Sally: It means she gets stuff done; she doesn’t let things pile up, and she—

Daddy: Okay, okay, I get it. Now, tell me what’s making my little angel unhappy.

Sally: Because we won’t see him for another year.

Daddy: Who? Oh, do you mean that gnome thing that Mommy moves around every night?

Sally: He’s an elf, and his name is Edgar, and Mommy doesn’t move him; he moves himself.

Daddy: Did I say Mommy? No, of course Mommy doesn’t move him—

Sally: Right! Because he can fly. And now he’s gone back to the North Pole.

Daddy: Exactly; he’s sitting on a shelf up there planning next Christmas with Santa Claus. Is that why you’re so sad? Because you won’t see Santa for a whole year?

Sally: No, not Santa. He’s very tired and needs to rest.

Daddy: Well, of course he does; think of all the places he had to visit in one night. So who is it that’s making you unhappy?

Sally: Frank.

Daddy: Frank?

Sally: Yes, Mommy’s friend Frank. Sometimes Harry comes with him, but usually it’s just Frank.

Daddy: Wait a minute! Mommy has two friends, a Frank and a Harry? How often does Mommy see these friends?

Sally: Every day. After you’ve gone to work. But I’m not supposed to tell you.

Daddy: Chicken, don’t cry. You know you can tell Daddy anything. So, what do these characters do when they get here?

Sally: I’m not sure. Mommy always makes me go up to my room when they arrive. I think she takes them into the garage.

Daddy: And how long do they stay? Oh, wait a minute, into the garage, you say? There’s no space in the garage. It’s full of empty boxes and—

Sally: That’s just it. Mommy says we probably won’t see them for a long time.

Daddy: When these guys arrive, are they carrying packages by any chance?

Sally: Yes, sometimes really big ones. The bike that Santa brought me could easily fit in one of those boxes.

Daddy: Okay, pumpkin, I have a feeling I know who this Frank and his buddy might be.

Sally: Do we really have to wait a whole year before we see them again?

Daddy: Come here, Sally. Let me explain something to you. I have a very strong feeling you are going to see a lot more of those guys, and you won’t have to wait too long, either. You’ve got Valentine’s Day, then Easter, then whatever comes after Easter . . . 

Sally: Really? Oh good, that makes me feel so much better. It’s amazing.

Daddy: More like Amazon. But you’re close enough. Happy New Year, sweetheart.

It’s Still a Total Mystery

 

Mike and Roz

It’s been a long year, for all of us, but in October Roz was blessed by a welcome visitor. Her boyfriend of over 20 years, Mike. He lives in Chicago, and she was so glad he paid no attention to all her fears about him flying to Houston during a pandemic. He was lucky enough to arrive just in time for her to read to him the final draft of the latest in The Val & Kit Mystery Series, Knowing People. Let’s face it, he had no choice.

So, just to be sure he heard every word, when she finished, she gave him a brief quiz. It went something like this.

Roz:    What is Val’s go-to meal?

Mike:  Dunno.

Roz:    What is Val’s favorite TV show?

Mike:  Dunno.

Roz:    What is Val’s occupation?

Mike:  Which one is Val?

Roz:    What color is Val’s hair?

Mike:  Er . . . black; no, wait—red?

Roz:    Well, you basically had three choices—and you still blew it.

Mike:  Is she blond?

Roz:    Were you even listening? Okay, last question. When were The Punic Wars?

Mike:  246 BC to 146 BC

Watch for your chance to take a quick Val & Kit quiz on our Facebook Page, Roz and Patty. Bone up by reading the newly released No. 7 in the series, Knowing People, available now in paperback and on Kindle!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Have a Zoom Meeting, They Said—It’ll Be Fun, They Said

Patty's family Zooming

Jean: “Valerie, why are we doing this?”

Val: “Because it will be fun, Mom. And you don’t have to sit so close to the screen.”

Jean: “I know how to Zoom, for heaven’s sake—”

Val: “And you don’t have to shout, either. I can hear you just fine. Why don’t you turn down the volume—”

Kit: “For crying out loud, Val, why is your mother screeching—”

Val: “She can hear you, Kit. Mom, just sit back, talk normally, and enjoy. Okay, now I think you’ve put yourself on mute.”

Jean: “I can’t hear you with this mask on.”

Val: “You probably don’t need the mask inside—”

Kit: “Or the gloves.”

Emily: “Hi. Grandma!”

Val: “Mom, hit the mute button again.”

Jean: “Is that you, Emily? Why didn’t you tell me Emily was going to be on this Zoom?”

Val: “I did tell you. And hi, honey.”

Kit: “So Valerie, tell me again: why are we doing this?”

Val: “Because it’s fun to see each other. Mom, you’ve muted yourself again.”

Kit: “Val, I just saw you two hours ago. And last night. And the day before. Can I be excused?”

Val: “No, you cannot. This is fun. Mom, what is that noise?”

Jean: “It’s William Stuckey vacuuming. William Stuckey, stop that right now!”

Val: “Mom, turn the volume down.”

Elaine: “Hi, everyone! Sorry I’m late.”

Kit: “Who’s she?”

Val: “Kit, she can hear you. It’s Elaine, Buddy’s wife. Hi, Elaine.”

Elaine: “Is something wrong? I was worried when I got your text. I was afraid—”

Val: “No, nothing’s wrong. I just thought this would be fun—Mom, you’ve moved the screen. We can’t see—”

Kit: “So when does it begin?”

Val: “What do you mean begin? It’s already started.”

Kit: “I mean the fun. When does the fun begin? And why are we looking at your Mom’s knees?”

Val: “Mom, move the screen higher. And take yourself off mute. And Emily, tell us how you are, for Pete’s sake.”

Jean: “Emily, you look very thin. Are you eating?”

Emily: “Yes, Grandma, I’m eating, and—”

Elaine: “Emily, you do look thin—”

Jean: “She looks just fine, Elaine—”

Elaine: “But you just said—”

Kit: “Oh, you are right, Val; this is fun—”

Val: “Please, everyone; don’t all talk at once.”

Everyone: “What?”

Val: “Oh hell. I have stuff to do. Let’s try this again another time.”

Kit: “Will it be as much fun?”

Val: “Yes, dammit, it will be fun.”

Before Covid-19 and ubiquitous Zoom meetings, Val and Kit solved another murder mystery, No. 7 in their series. Read all about it in KNOWING PEOPLE, to be released December 8, 2020. Pre-order now!

Roz Learns There’s No Parking on the Moon

The greatest joy for me while being in lockdown has been “Lockdown School” with my nine-year-old grandniece, Emily. While I’m in my kitchen in Houston, she’s in her living room in Surrey, England—and with the magic of Zoom and a lot of help from Wikipedia—we meet once a week to learn and discuss American History.

Together we have covered a wide range of topics—the original colonies, Pearl Harbor, Native Americans, and the Wright Brothers, to name just a few. Emily was most concerned with the possible danger of quicksand and swarms of wasps on the Oregon Trail. The fate of most of the passengers on the Titanic made her very sad, but she was heartened by the heroics of the Unsinkable Molly Brown.

As for Amelia Earhart, Emily was pretty sure everyone thought she was daft for attempting to fly solo across the Atlantic, but also very brave. And when we discussed Amelia’s ill-fated last flight and the theories of what might have happened, Emily was pretty sure the aviator made it to an island where she married her navigator, Fred Noonan, and lived happily ever after.

Emily is a supersmart kid, funny, and so clever. Her vivid imagination has brought history to life for both of us. I have learned so much. Her impression of Helen Keller grabbing her throat and trying to speak was heart-wrenching. Our lesson this week was on the moon landing, and since she takes copious notes, I asked her to read back to me what she had written. She read: “The third spaceman, Michael Collins, stayed in the spaceship driving round and round, because there is no parking on the moon.”

Well done, Emily. I am so very proud of you.

Roz Wonders: Is Anyone Out There?

This self-quarantine might not be so bad. Patty is back home from her recent gallivanting around the country, and so we are free to continue some serious Skyping without the usual interruptions. I even received an e-mail from my dentist advising that all routine work was canceled. This was like the prison warden telling me I was out on parole, as long as I continued to floss.

Our first Skype began with Patty on her elliptical and me painting my nails. But once we’d hashed out the world’s news as well as our own, we were quickly able to knuckle down and start working.

This quarantine sounded easy. I have many projects around my house that need attention. Baseboards long overdue for painting, and an area in my study that needs to have the wallpaper removed. But staying home isn’t quite the picnic I expected. The painting and wallpaper stripping has not begun in earnest, or in fact, at all. But I have spent a lot of time of time online researching newfangled items for home improvement. Who knew there were so many gadgets to help you paint a straight line? And when did the good old blue tape become green?

As the isolation proceeds, it’s becoming clear that work around the house is going to have to wait, as more important issues surface. Eating, for example. Where did all those food delivery services spring from? And grocery delivery, which sounds complicated to me, but I’m assured is safer than actually going to my store and risking bumping into an eighty-year-old grocery sacker who may have recently spent three weeks in Italy and returned home via Iran.

All news outlets are to be avoided. The last thing I need is a so-called expert on infectious diseases sharing his revelation that drinking bleach will kill any virus. So it’s down to watching TV shows, or rewatching shows I haven’t seen for a while. I thought I only vaguely remembered Downton Abbey, but it turns out I can quote Lady Violet word for word.

So back to the isolation business at hand. I was never aware that I apparently touch my face ten thousand times an hour, so gotta work on that. And wearing surgical gloves to collect my mail only to forget to put them on when I retrieve my Amazon boxes from my front door. This quarantine is no joke and seems to go on forever. I’m worn out from all the things I cannot do.

So now I am ready for day FOUR. Bring it on.

But seriously, we wish all our readers a safe and tolerable—dare we hope enjoyable?—time keeping their social distance. To that end, we offer you a FREE getaway to Door County through March 23 via a download of DEATH IN DOOR COUNTY to your Kindle or Kindle app. Although it’s No. 3 in our Val & Kit Mystery Series, all our books stand alone.

But you do not. We are right here with you, and we’ll all get through this. Maybe we’ll even finish our still-untitled No. 7.