Dee, Merrie, and "Magic"
Well, I got e-mail again. Nope, it wasn't from Gramps this time. It was from Dee. Here's what she wrote:
Apes
'April'!Hm, y'know, I've sometimes wondered myself why Meredith looks like a mini-Becky. And now I understand why I got a call from Merrie in the wee hours of the morning, listing ways Santa could get into their apartment.
There are days when I have 'doubts' about myself, but then there are other 'times' when I'm just 'sure' I'm a great mother! Like the other night, for instance. 'Merrie' sat up in her bed and asked, "When is Santa coming, Mom?" I told her, "Soon." You know, I'm a little sad sometimes that Merrie, at age four, already calls me "Mom" instead of "Mama." But that's not what I'm writing to you 'about,' so never mind. Merrie 'said,' "We don't have a chimney. How will he get in?" I told her, "Magic!" I'm a 'genius' sometimes! Merrie asked, "What kind of magic?" I was 'ready' for this. I said, "It's a secret! Magic isn't magic if you know how it's done." Then I eased her back so she 'was' lying down, tucked her in, and said, "Why don't you lie down and imagine all the different ways Santa could come to our house." I 'put' my hand on her forehead and said, "Imagine.... Imagine.... Imagine...." And she quickly drifted off to 'sleep.'
Then, 'April,' your 'brother' crept into the room, and he asked, "How did you get her to go to sleep?" And I told him, "Magic!" Then he stared at Merrie for a little while and asked, "Why does my 'daughter' look almost exactly like April's slatternly schoolmate, Becky McGuire? Is there a teenage pregnancy in your past, from that time you lived away from Milborough?" And I told him, "Of course not, silly! I was 'pure' when we had our first wedding, 'remember'?" Then I flitted out of the bedroom to find some 'pharmacy' journals to 'read.'
Best,
Dee
Apes
posted by April Patterson @ 7:04 AM
8 Comments:
At 9:18 AM,
Anonymous said…
April,
Boozhoo (Hello).
I read your writings where you said your niinim (sister-in-law) was talking to your nishimis (niece) about Santa Claus and falling asleep because of magic. Then your niinim (sister-in-law) told your nisayenh (brother) about magic, and he seemed to be more interested in how your nishimis (niece) looks like your friend Becky and ignored the magic. With the Ojibway legends, it was never a good idea to ignore magic, particularly if your wiiwan (wife) can do it. I have not met your niinim (sister-in-law), but from what you said she said, it doesn’t sound like magic she was using.
I have not seen your sister practice magic, but there are some things about her which are magical. I was surprised the people in Mtigwaki (Land of Trees) gave her a Spirit Name, when she knew the given names of very few of the people who live there. Your sister has the ability to make people like her with little effort on her part. That might be some kind of magic. I do not know.
With the Ojibway, there are creatures of magic, like the Windigo and Gitchi-Manidoo, but with people, magic usually involves spiritual communication with game animals. This maniohke (hunting magic) is used to increase hunting luck. The spirit powers obtained through dreams are used in controlling game. If your wiiwan (wife) had good maniohke (hunting magic), then the wiijiiwaagan (husband) would bring home much game. I don’t know of any maniohke (hunting magic) to make children go to sleep, other than being a good ngashi (mom) by saying things children think are dull and tiring.
I know my ngashi (mom) can say things which I think are dull and tiring to me, and I am grown. I do not know how many times I can hear, "Paul. Why are you moving to the South? You belong here with your people." Sometimes it makes me sleepy. Ngashi (mothers) have that magic over their children.
Gi'-ga-wa-ba-min' na-gutch! (See you later!)
Constable Paul Wright
At 12:35 PM,
Anonymous said…
April,
Little sis. I am not sure why my wife tells you such stories about me. Any careful examination of my daughter shows that she has the same bulbous lips of her mother and her grandmother Mira. But when Deanna lived in Milborough years ago, she didn’t have lips as floppy as those, and she didn’t speak with a lisp. So, the real question was whether or not she was actually the same Deanna I knew when I was younger, or if she had been replaced by a witch who knows magic. Deanna simply responded, “Don’t you have a novel to finish?” That didn’t answer my question, but my wife knows the way to distract me.
Later, when I thought about it, my wife being a witch started to make sense. Why Deanna seemed to be so insistent the children learn about the products of the farmer’s market and not cotton candy. It made sense, after all, everyone knows that witches are into those organic foods. Then I also asked Deanna what happened to our daughter’s big bed with the headboard shelves she used to have and Deanna said, “Magic.” She must have magically transformed our daughter’s bed. And why Daylight Savings Time seemed to get her so flustered in her November monthly letter. Everyone knows witches don’t observe Daylight Savings Time. At first I thought, pharmacy would be the perfect profession for a witch, with those witch’s brews, but then I remembered when our son got sick with an earache, we were using Lovey’s home remedies to try to cure him. And then when I remembered how Deanna didn’t know how birth control worked when she got pregnant with our daughter It all made sense. The reason Deanna is a completely incompetent pharmacist is because a witch has replaced my wife and a witch doesn’t know pharmacy. And it even made sense why Deanna insisted on having a marriage outside the church for our first wedding. It must have actually been a witch wedding, and I was completely unaware of it.
I went to the video store and rented some episodes of Bewitched and the signs are all there. Mira Sobinski is so similar in character to Samantha’s mother Endora. Darren calls Samantha, “Sam”, just like I call Deanna, “Dee”. And Deanna looks a lot like Elizabeth Montgomery who played the attractive blonde witch, who enjoys doing all the housework, cooking and taking care of their 2 children, one older blonde girl, and one younger brunette boy. As for the magic of putting my daughter to sleep, my daughter said Deanna leaves scratch marks on her forehead and intones “Imagine….Imagine….Imagine….” That certainly sounds like a witch’s spell.
I’m married to a witch! Woo hoo! I’m married to a witch! At least she still believes in Santa.
Love,
Michael Patterson
At 1:20 PM,
Anonymous said…
omg, this morning, howie made a big brekkie 4 me an' mom an' dr. ted, an' as howie wuz cooking the eggs benedict, i asked mom, "hey, have u ever seen a pic of mike an' dee patterson's daughter merrie? it's totally weird, she looks just like me!" dr. ted sed sumthing about how lots of milboroughtonians look alike, but mom looked all guilty-like, and i wuz all like, "what, mom?" an' mom sed, "well, u didn't hear this frum me," an' i kinda groaned "o god," an' mom sed, "relax, i didn't do nething, it wuz my older sister, ur aunt tyffani-ambre." i wuz confused an' i sed, "but she's been ded 4, like, 10 years! i'm so confused i feel like liz patterson!"
mom sed, "calm down. it's very simple. my sister tyffani-ambre was married 2 1 of ur dad's viking cousins, erik einarsson. neway, they had a couple of daughters, hallgerd-ruby and gudrun-pearl. erik joined up with this expedition that was recreating the viking adventures on a longship, but the guys on the boat got drunk and decided 2 try a whale hunt, an' were lost at sea. then ur aunt took a job at a hardware store. it wuz run by this immigrant couple. they were having a problem bcuz they really wanted 2 have kids, but they were very unattractive people, so they knew if they had their own kids, they would prolly turn out 2 b evil or buffoonish. finally, tyffani-ambre sold her beautiful daughters 2 the immigrant couple. they got new names."
an' i wuz like, "omg, r u saying that andrea and deanna sobinski r really my cousins?"
an' mom sed, "have u ever seen the sobinskis?"
an' i wuz like "yeah."
an' mom sed, "tell me, do they look nething like their daughters?"
an' i wuz like, "no. well, mira has big lips, but they are the big lips of ethnic ugliness, not the big lips of loveliness, which r not at all alike."
an' mom sed, "xxactly." then mom sed, "that cheap mira sobinski didn't give ur aunt much money 4 them. neway, u know what happened 2 her." mom sighed. "she wuz 1 of milboro's pioneers."
an' i sed, "mom, i thot she wuz a crack whore!"
an' mom sed, "yes, milboro's very 1st crack whore."
an' i wuz like, "mom!"
an' dr. ted sed, "i d8ed her a few times." mom giggled an' sed, "ted! you would never have 2 pay 4 it!" an' dr. ted sed, "i didn't. tyffani-ambre and i had a deal. i would take her 2 holiday parties with me as my d8. i would give her instructions 2 go up 2 john patterson and start talking about tool kits, or model trains, or teeth. then i would go find elly and talk 2 her, and make sure she saw john talking 2 my beautiful, buxom blonde d8. it wuz guaranteed 2 make elly krazee. then she would go over 2 john and start up on a shrewish tirade. it wuz so much fun. i never did sleep w/ her."
an' i wuz like, "an' what wuz aunt tyffani-ambre getting out of that deal?"
"free food," dr. ted sed, "and she alwayz met a bunch of 'business contacts' at those holiday parties. god, i miss those dayz."
mom got angry an' sed, "but ur with me now!"
an' dr. ted sed, "but u don't nrage elly patterson like ur sister used 2!"
this led 2 a argument that didn't break up until howie came out w/ the food an' reminded dr. ted to point out 2 mom that mom is more fun 4 nocturnal recreation, an' is also prettier.
neway, i think this solves the mystery of y merrie looks like a mini-me. ha, mayb i can borrow her 4 an act sumtime!
becks
At 7:06 PM,
Anonymous said…
April,
Little sis. As you know, I don't normally read the other posts on your Blog, because they are unremittingly dull, and not very well-written. However, since your friend Becky McGuire frequently chooses to slander our family, I occasionally gaze sideways at her posts to see if there is anything particularly scandalous she is trying to say about us. Her message today seemed to say that my wife Deanna and her sister Andrea were adopted, and the birth mother was not Mira Sobinski, but the famous crack whore we had to read about in the local Milborough history part of our education, the stuff mom called "People in Milborough, Not to Be Like, and Their Horrible Deaths". I should have known, Milborough's first crack whore, Tyffani-Ambre Carrington-Einarsson would somehow be related to Milborough's most currently famous crack whore / pop music singer, Becky McGuire. However, I was filled with a certain sense of hope, because if Deanna was in fact adopted by Mira Sobinski, then she would not be fated to grow up to look like Mira Sobinski. This is a problem I am sure both you and the Lizardbreath face as you have no doubt noticed your form and figure becoming more and more mom-like as you get older. For my part, I feared Deanna becoming more and more Mira-like, which is a truly terrifying prospect. But if Deanna could turn out to look like Tyffani-Ambre Carrington-Einarsson who, despite her emaciated appearance, sunken eyes, and oddly-coloured skin and veins; was still more attractive than Mira or mom, then there was hope for my wife's future appearance.
When I got home from Portrait Magazine this evening, I shared with my lovely wife my discoveries that she was not only a witch, but an adopted witch; the expression on her face was difficult to describe. I would say it was one part loathing, two parts disgust, and one part confusion, with maybe a smidgen of astonishment. Needless to say, she was on the phone with her mother in a flash, who denied everything, of course, and had a few pointed words of criticism for Dr. McCaulay and Becky's mother, with respect to their abilities to recall things which occurred during their years of heavy drug use. I told Deanna that, of course, her mother would deny it, but my lovely wife did present me with incontrovertible proof of the accuracy of her mother's statements. Namely, if Deanna was the daughter of Milborough's renowned crack whore, then I would be getting some, and since it has been almost 3 years since I got some, that should tell me truth of the matter. The positive pregnancy test for what ended up being my son did spell the end of that part of my marriage. So, I must report to you, I do not believe Becky McGuire's statements, despite the uncanny resemblance my daughter has for Becky.
As for Becky spreading this lie herself, I can tell you that Deanna is preparing a spell of revenge which consists of carrot coins and leftovers. Watch out, Becky! Vengeance is coming, and it smells like ambrosia.
Love,
Michael Patterson
At 7:28 PM,
howard said…
April,
I see Becky wrote about the big fight between Dr. McCaulay and her mother Krystle this morning. It is certainly awkward for me to remind Dr. McCaulay of Krystle's physical attributes, since I am engaged to her daughter. I would like to think they will be sad to see me go to prison, but, as Dr. McCaulay has pointed on several occasions, "I'm just another man, whose been with Krystle, going to prison."
As for my continually postponed trial, my lawyer, Mr. Benis was convinced it was going to have to restart this week, but it is looking more and more like there may not be a resolution until the beginning of the year, when frequently a lot of things happen in Milborough. Judge Patterlover was seeking information from "you know who" in Corbeil, he considered necessary to determine if the trial should continue, but that information doesn't appear to be coming quickly at all. When "you know who" doesn't want to be reached on vacation, apparently she can't be reached.
On the upside, though is the distinct possibility I may be able to spend Christmas and New Years with Becky, if this trend continues. It would be nice to actually see Becky's face as she opens my presents to her, without prison bars getting in the way of my sight line. And of course, you would get gifts directly from me also.
Howard Bunt
At 7:32 PM,
April Patterson said…
mike, have u 4gotten i had u on probation? r u gonna force me 2 stop reading yr posts again? u remember the rule was u hafta read ALL the posts on my blog, and here u r saying u r back 2 not reading them xxcept u "gaze sidewayz" @ becky's posts 2 c if she is saying stuff abt our fam! well, after i answer yr post, i m back 2 not reading yr posts unless u get back 2 following my rule.
ok, my answer. i believe becky. who is NOT a crack whore. get deanna 2 have a dna test. i'll bet that'll prove what becky posted is true.
and by the way, my figure is NOT NETHING like mom's. i do kickboxing an' lift w8's 2 keep that fr. happening. but U. YR figure is starting 2 look like mom's, mike.
paul, i don't know nething abt liz practicing magic.
apes
and becks. omg!
At 7:35 PM,
April Patterson said…
howard, i didn't c yr post until after my last one went up. becky helped me pick out my xmas prezzie 4 u (which i had 2 rewrap, but no matter). i think u will really like it!
apes
At 2:19 AM,
Anonymous said…
April,
Little sis. Are you going to stop reading my posts because of this ridiculous rule you have set for the people who participate in your Blog? Very well then. I can fight back. I was going to tell you the whole story of the excitement at my home, but I think instead I will give it to you in installments. So there. Nyah. Nyah.
Now I think about it, that’s probably not a punishment for you, since you like telling stories in installments. By the way, don’t think of asking Deanna for her version of the whole story, because she heard how you were supporting Becky McGuire’s awful story about her birth, and so now you are on her naughty list. Mom is on Team Deanna, since she finds the idea her grandchildren are somehow related to Becky McGuire, quite abhorrent. So, don't bother asking her either.
Despite your unfortunate choice to believe Becky, I will tell you what happened--the first part anyway. After making sure Deanna got my daughter calmed down from the excitement of Christmas, I went up to my attic office to finish my book, and Deanna followed me up. She started rubbing her hands on my shoulders and said, “Come to bed, Michael.” Normally, this would be enough motivation to get me to bed, but for some reason my darling Deanna’s left arm seemed to bear a little resemblance to the left arm of a certain spinach-swilling sailor man, and frankly my left shoulder was in too much pain to consider Deanna anything but a source of agony. So, I said, “I’m so close to finishing this book, Dee….Give me another hour.” Deanna agreed, and when I saw her go, I saw she was in one of her more masculine appearance days, and I had some regrets about turning her down.
But the deed was done, and there was nothing for it, but the “TICK-TAPPITA TICK-TAPP TAPPITA TAP-TICK-TAPP-TICK-TAP, TAP-TICK” of the typewriter. You know someday, I am going to have to write a book on the proper punctuation for onomatopoeia.
But that day will have to wait, because I was filled with joy and elation that “It’s done! I can’t believe it’s done! This is my first real manuscript.” I spent a lot of time shuffling and reshuffling those gorgeous pages of ink and paper, while “THUMP THUMP” ing it on the table. You know, little sis, there is almost nothing better than shuffling and “THUMP THUMP” ing manuscripts on the table, and people do complain less about it, if it is your own manuscript you are “THUMP THUMP” ing.
Having completed this momentous task, over which I had laboured and sweated over for years, I descended the stairs, and lifted my hand to shake the hand of my fair muse, Sheilagh Shaugnessy, who appeared to me there. I said in a loud voice, since I was on the stairs and surely no one could hear me, “It is done, fair muse! Oh, that I should inhale the sweet smell of success!” For some reason, I was expected the smell of cinnamon buns, but when I reached the landing of the stairs from the attic, the smell of success I smelled didn’t have anything to with cinnamon or buns. Actually, I smelled smoke, 2 distinct strands of smoke to be exact, clearly moving through the air.
This is where my installment ends today. I will write more to you tomorrow, and you will have to judge for yourself whether or not you want to read it.
Love,
Michael Patterson
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