May, 2012


If You're Skating On Thin Ice, You Might As Well Dance

Once a month, Mother attends—or, on rare occasion, hosts—the Corgi Kennel Club meeting. They don't really do anything—no dog shows, no guest lecturers—it's mostly a social club, people showing up to share gossip and funny stories, bitch about husbands (or wives), to say, "Oh, how fattening! I shouldn't…" while sneaking a third éclair. It's a shoot the breeze type of club. But several times a year they do have fundraisers, usually to benefit a local animal shelter.

And Ducky and I do our part. I'll do a batch or three of some treats for bake sales, or donate a couple of boxes of books for the used book sale. One spring I took the sedan to the art supply store for crates of tempera paint and cheap brushes while Ducky used my van to make a trip to Home Depot for boxes of 2" clay pots and flats of bedding flowers for their Decorate Your Own Potted Flower for Mother's Day booth at the park. (It was a hit. They sold out in only three hours.)

One day I came home from the shop and found a stack of messages on the kitchen counter written in Suzy's neat printing. "What's this all about?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea. I just wrote what they said."

Eloise Broward: Lionel train set, 5 boxes, 1930s, all original boxes, good condition. Also two boxes of train tracks, not original boxes, Keds sneakers boxes. Box of trees, buildings, etc., fair condition.

Paul Tucker: Waterford crystal vase, no box, and $50 gift card to Flower Power.

Helene Donner: Gift basket of bath goodies, lavender and rose scented.

Marla MacIver: Smithsonian crystal growing kit, the really big one, never opened.

Dee Fleidermaus: Stack of board games, Monopoly, Clue, Scrabble, Masterpiece and Chutes and Ladders, five or six others. Brand new. Won this at the mall last Christmas.

Hope & Charity Freeman: Set of crystal glasses, 4 cordial glasses, 4 wine glasses, 4 gem tone colors. Boxed.

A dozen or more notes, all along the same line, like we were running a Secret Santa exchange. All interesting, and all baffling. "They didn't say anything else?"

She shook her head slowly. "Not that I ask—"

The phone cut her off. I answered with, "Mallard residence."

"Cassandra, dear. It's Joan McKirk." Our next-door neighbor. "I know I'm technically not a member of the club, but I do like to support them. My eldest granddaughter works at Gem 'n' I Jewelers and her employer is happy to donate a lovely silver and amethyst set, a chain with a pendant, a dinner ring and earrings. She said she will drop the box by my house tonight."

"That's very nice," I said automatically. "But—not to be rude—what is this for?"

"The May Day Queen's Tea and Silent Auction," she said promptly.

I remembered seeing a blurb in the club newsletter a couple of times. I had set aside an autographed copy of Bradbury's The Martian Chronicles for the auction and figured I'd make some goodies for the tea which—hmm, May was only a couple of weeks away. "Okay, but—uh—why are you calling me?"

"Oh, dear. I'm sorry. I was sure Eloise said Victoria was the chairwoman. And since—well…"

Since Mother often lives in her own world, the other responsible adults pick up the slack. "Well, I'll call Eloise. You can drop off the jewelry, I'll make sure it gets where it belongs."

/ / / / /

"We are hosting a tea party and auction?" Ducky looked aghast. "Dear Lord, why?"

"We were volunteered," I said grimly.

"Eyargh!" It was an inarticulate growl of frustration. "I swear, I solemnly swear, I will duct tape her mouth shut!"

"Better make it a small piece." I gave him a forced-perky smile and fluttered my eyelashes.

He snorted. "I'll use the whole roll!"

Lexi pelted into the kitchen. "Oh, Mommy, Mommy! Come and see the dowh Mrs. Wevinger weft! It's just wike 'the wast dowh' from A Wittowh Princess and—"

I grabbed her and pulled her in front of me, facing her father. "Oh, you only need a piece about 'yea long.'" I put a finger at each end of her smile and gave him a mildly manic grin of my own.

Ducky tried to contain his frustration. "Alexannnnnnndra… Why did you volunteer us to host this—" He censored himself. "—tea party?!"

"Daddy…" she said plaintively. "The puppies will die! Nobody is 'dopting them! We aw have to do our part!" How many times had we encouraged her to be civic-minded, to think for those less fortunate? A lot. "Bwess the beasts and chiwodren!" It was coming home to roost.

"Well, yes—"

"Aw creatures! Great and smaw!"

Hey, you dragged her to church, I mouthed. He winced faintly. "Surely we could…" He trailed off.

"It's just tea!" she pleaded.

Yeah, with a flock of old biddies and geezers all over the back yard. Tea, he was fine with. The Kennel Club—not so much.

"Pweeeeease!" She was starting to cry. "The puppies…! And the kittens…!"

He caved. "Next time," he said sternly, "Ask one of us before volunteering our services."

"Grandma said it's okay." She was almost righteous in her stubbornness.

"And we love Grandma very much," I said carefully, "But sometimes Grandma gets confused. She may have thought you were asking about regular afternoon tea."

She tipped her head back. "I'm sorry…" Her brows scrunched together. "Am I in troubow?"

I sighed. "No…"

"I promise. I'w onwy ask you and Daddy next time."

Daddy's look was plain: ain't gonna be no next time.

/ / / / /

We had done a silent auction for Lexi's preschool the fall before and the Kennel Club used the same system—a closed website, attendance by invite only, so that people not at the tea (or, for the school, the spaghetti dinner) could participate. The website sent us automatic text messages for updated bids and, amazingly enough, technology worked in our favor.

The day of the tea was gorgeous. The weather was perfect; just warm enough to be pleasant, a tiny breeze in the air. We had a yard full of small tables with everything from gift certificates to a 'tumbling blocks' pattern quilt in shades of purple and blue. (I couldn't bid, so I made Ziva my proxy and told her to crush the competition—I wanted that quilt.)

Abby—as she had for the preschool auction—had volunteered to run the site and update information. Ducky and I would get a ping, run to the item in the yard and change the bid. Charlie, Lily and Ev had volunteered to run around with pots of tea and trays of goodies and sugar, cream and lemon service.

Mother sat near her favorite tree, holding court with the rest of the old guard. The current president of the Kennel Club, Marsha Brighton, and her husband, Edward, a retired psych prof, were, technically, at the head of the group, but Mrs. Brighton had no problem deferring to Mother.

"Would anyone care for more tea? Darjeeling," Lily said, holding aloft a silver pot. She refilled several cups and Charlie took her turn.

"Lemon? Sugar? Cream?" She doctored cups accordingly and offered the tray to Dr. Brighton. His, "No, thank you," was overshadowed by his wife saying, "Yes, he takes two lumps of sugar." Charlie stopped, confused.

"No, thank you," and, "Yes, please, two lumps," collided again. Charlie laughed nervously.

Mrs. Brighton didn't look pissed, but she did have that ghost of an irritated look that could go with being married almost 50 years. "Edward! I always put sugar in your tea!" she said with a small laugh.

He gave her a mildly amused look. "I know… and the first year, I reminded you I don't like sugar in my tea. After that, I just stopped stirring." He snagged a couple of cookies from the tray Ev was offering.

I thought of how we had been volunteered for this project and shook my head. The art of compromise is clearly the key to a successful marriage!


As I wrote this, I found myself scratching my head and wondering if I had ever mentioned Mrs. McKirk's first name and hunting through all the Ducky & Sandy stories for the information. (No, I hadn't. Her name is now Joan.)

I thought it would be helpful if I combined all of the stories into one document and created a glossary or index. I managed step one... but the fact that it turned out to be seven hundred and fifty-three pages long (not including this little snippet) has put step two into the far, distant future.

And for those of you who have messaged me to say, "I just discovered the Ducky and Sandy stories and got caught up all in one night"... my eyeballs are now glazed over in your honor.