April's Real Blog

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

The trip was wrapping up

Mike had another installment in his reminiscing w/Merrie:

Formerly little sis. You may remember that I led my daughter to her bedroom, where she showed me her stuffed animals Rags, Ditzy, Woggy, and Blue Bell. And of course her remote control, whom she calls Buttons, which her child psychologist gave her to help her with her recurring nightmare about being burned while she is sleeping. She can use Buttons to change her dreams, if she doesn’t like it. Well, even though my daughter was fully dressed, she decided to crawl under her covers and go to bed. She curled up with her stuffed rabbit, and shoved her curly-haired doll to the side and kept Buttons in her hand.

I got into her bed and lay down beside her to continue my story about Gramma Marian and our trip to Vancouver.” My daughter tried to pretend she was sleeping. I said to her, “Daughter. You don’t fool me. It’s the middle of the day, and you don’t snore.” Then my daughter picked up her Buttons remote, pointed it at me and pressed the buttons several times, as if that would work.

I launched into my story about the pictures I had to show her. I said, “Two weeks was a long visit. Eventually we started to get on each other’s nerves. Mom was on Grandpa Jim’s case about his smoking and things got tense.” My daughter said, “Grampa Jim.” I said, “Did I say Grandpa again?” My daughter said, “Yes. If two weeks was a long visit, how would 4 weeks of looking at photos be?” I said, “Daughter. You better get used to looking at photos. Our family is going to be doing that for a long time.” My daughter sighed the deep sigh of Patterson resignation.

So I pulled the first picture out of my pocket to show her. It was of Gramma Marian putting a red sweater over her blue shirt. Mom was wearing blue too, and she said to Gramma Marian, “Do you have to wear blue all the time, mom? ---And why don’t you change your hair?” My daughter laughed and laughed. I said, “What’s so funny?” She said, “Gramma Elly never changes her hair and she wears the same colours all the time. Gramma Marian is just like Gramma Elly.” I said, “That is a very good comparison, but do not ever let mom hear you say that.” My daughter said, “Why?” I said, “Mom likes to think she is different from Gramma Marian.”

Then I showed my daughter the next picture. In it is Grampa Jim in the background chain-smoking, which is how I most remembered him. Gramma Marian is holding her coffee cup, which is how I most remembered her. Mom has her hand over her mouth and is not saying anything, which is how I wish I remembered her. Gramma Marian said, “We’ve always been sorry you didn’t finish university before getting married, Elly…” My daughter said, “Why would they be sorry?” I said, “Because Gramma Marian and Grampa Jim paid for mom to go to university and she quit after a few months to start working to save some money.” My daughter said, “You mean, Gramma Elly kept her school money?” I said, “Yes.” My daughter said, “No wonder Gramma Marian was mad. They gave Gramma Elly money to go to school and she kept it and didn’t go to school. That’s like stealing.” I said, “No, it’s not stealing.” My daughter said, “If you gave me money to buy something for school, and I kept it instead, what would you think?” I said, “I would think there was going to be a young lady who was going to be very sorry.” My daughter said, “Oh!”

In the next picture there was mom sitting in front of two silhouettes, one of Grampa Jim with either a cigarette or a tongue hanging out of his mouth. The other was of Gramma Marian walking away. Mom has a thought balloon written on the picture saying, “I wondered how long it would take before we resumed our old parent-daughter roles…” My daughter said, “What does that mean?” I said, “Mom and Gramma Marian and Grampa Jim all had things they were mad about with each other. Mom didn’t like the way Gramma Marian looked. Gramma Marian was mad mom did not use her university money for university. Grampa Jim was mad because he just was, most of the time, particularly when he smoked. Whenever we visited, they would be nice for awhile, so mom would agree to come back. Then mom would start picking at them about things.” My daughter said, “The same way she does now.” I said, “Exactly. Just like today, except Gramma Marian is dead.”

My daughter said, “When you get old and I come to visit you, are you going to show me photos?” I said, “What do you mean?” My daughter said, “Because Gramma Elly and Gramma Marian did what they used to do. What we are used to doing, is what we did today. We looked at old pictures.” I said, “Maybe. You never know.” My daughter said, “I don’t want to ever get old.” I said, “You don’t have anything to worry about, then daughter. You are going to stay young forever.” My daughter pointed her Buttons at me, and clicked the buttons a few more times.

More tomorrow, formerly little sis.

Michael Patterson
I admit, I hadta LOL that Mom was on Grandma Marian's case abt changing her hair, since Mom's been wearing her hair in that bun since 1996. I've tried 2 suggest changes, but she alwayz ignores me.

Howard, I'm not sure what 2 make of that message from Lirpa:


Just Eat Real Elbow Macaroni You
Love It’s Vibrant Exquisite Sauce

– lirpA

I wonder if it's code. I hafta think abt it.


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  • At 7:47 AM, Blogger DreadedCandiru2 said…

    It's odd how he noticed that Elly was starting to get on her parent's nerves with her 'helpful suggestions' (which must never, EVER be confused with non-stop nagging) but failed to realize the havoc his own enforced presence was doing to everyone else the six months he was freeloading at your old house. Then again, he is his mother's child: she won't tolerate the same sort of torment from her own offspring she subjected your grandparents to. I can well imagine the screaming fit she'd be having if Liz decided to stayt up North for good. She can leave town to get hitched but her children sure as heck can't. She's pretty much where he gets being completely full of crap from. He gets being dumber than dirt from Train Man.

  • At 2:46 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    omg, howard, i cracked the code!!!



    omg, omg, omg! what shd we do?


  • At 7:02 PM, Blogger howard said…


    Make elbow macaroni? Throw a “Welcome back from the dead” pasta party?

    Just kidding. I suppose the real question is: What does it mean? Maybe it’s the slogan for some kind of “not really a villain” movement. Maybe where this lirpA person lives, she still has her version of Jeremy, who didn’t perish from being crushed to death by Dutch tulips.

    We need more information. You still should not rule out the possibility someone is playing a practical joke on you. After all, Jeremy (Jones, I presume) was not known around Milborough to be a friend of yours, but rather your bitterest enemy, and someone may be trying to frighten you. I read over those old April’s Real Blog entries about lirpA, and it didn’t seem like she had your best interests at heart back in October, 2005. Can you really trust someone who is your opposite?

    Howard Bunt

  • At 7:23 PM, Anonymous michael patterson said…


    Formerly little sis. If you are making elbow macaroni, my daughter and I will be glad to walk over to your house and eat some in front of the refrigerator door, or even off of a table. My children tell me you are quite a good cook, possibly the only good one in our family. My daughter and I are getting a little tired of the Mexican vanilla and salsa, which my lovely Deanna purchased by the caseload during our vacation in Mexico and now insists on putting in every meal. “Vanilla carrot coin salsa surprise” is not nearly as surprising the 4th or 5th time around. It is, however, quite surprising the first time around.

    I see you had another contact from the scaleless, parasitic catfish supervillain, who has issued his/her/its usual, daily, Patterson family insult. As usual, the carnivorous creature has gotten the facts wrong. (1) I and my family did not freeload during the 6 months we all stayed together at the Sharon Park Drive house. We paid rent. (2) I am not completely full of crap. Like most humans, the majourity of my physical composition is water. (3) Dirt is not dumb. Most of the studies doing intelligence measures of dirt and the animals which inhabit dirt have shown that it has a greater intelligence quotient than the average Amazonian catfish. (4) It is a well-known fact, intelligence does not transfer from the dirt of a train man, but through your parents’ genetic material. (5) Deanna and I married at St. Andrew's in the Glen, so we did leave town to get “hitched,” as the catfish so quaintly puts it.

    It’s good to set the record straight, even if no one really cares, aside from me.

    Michael Patterson

  • At 9:42 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    howard, u may have a pt. lirpa was kinda chaotic an' scary. what cd she b up 2? we'd better think abt all this.

    mike, i didn't cook, macaroni or nething else. mom insisted on making one of her nauseating casseroles. luckily eva invited me 2 her house 4 pizza.


  • At 1:28 AM, Anonymous michael patterson said…


    Formerly little sis. It is interesting how nature can change the mood of things. Just yesterday I was showing my daughter pictures of my trip to Vancouver to visit Grampa Jim and Gramma Marian, and after 2 weeks of the visit it seemed like mom and our grandparents were getting on each others’ nerves. Then today I had 4 more pictures to show to my daughter which turned all of that around.

    In the first picture, mom, who desperately needs to pull up her pants, is walking beside Grampa Jim, who has Lizzie on his back in a backpack which seems to consist solely of shoulder straps. They are walking by a stream in the outdoors with lots of pine trees. Across the stream way in the background, 2 giant silhouetted unicorns prepared for battle, but nobody seemed to notice them. I was beside the stream reaching for stream rocks. I know you might be thinking I could end up injuring my eyes with those rocks, but not to fear formerly little sis, I did not have any eyes at that moment, showing that our Patterson tendency to have eyes mysteriously and unexpectedly disappear was a trait that occurred even at an early age. Grampa Jim’s word balloon said, “Sigh—You’ll be back in Toronto soon.---These visits are just too short.” My daughter said, “I thought Grampa Jim was mad at Gramma Elly for yelling at him about his smoking.” I said, “That only lasted as long as Grampa Jim smoked his cigarettes and during the long coughing fits he had from smoking them. Otherwise, Grampa Jim and mom got along great.” My daughter said, “Huh?”

    In the next picture, Grampa Jim has apparently taken off the backpack and Lizzie, while he and mom are sitting on a fallen tree together. Lizzie is in front of them either tasting or licking dirt. In the background, I have found my stream rocks and thrown them skyward, I think in an attempt to appease the stream gods to get my eyes back. Grampa Jim’s word balloon says, “Seems like yesterday you were as small as Elizabeth.” My daughter said, “Why do old people say that?” I said, “Say what?” She said, “’Seems like yesterday’ for things a long time ago.” I said, “When you get old, you lose your short term memory.” My daughter said, “What’s a short term memory?” I said, “It’s the things you remember that just happened yesterday. When you forget them, then the things a long time ago seem like they happened yesterday. Understand?” My daughter said, “No, daddy. Forget I asked.” I said, “Asked what?” My daughter said, “Huh?”

    In the next picture, I can see mom and Grampa Jim still sitting on the log and staring at each other. Mom has her arms crossed in front of her breasts and Grampa Jim’s face seems a little flushed. Lizzie has taken dirt and put it in her hair, while I am slowly sneaking up on her. I can sneak up on her, because the stream gods granted my request to get my eyes back. The word balloon from mom’s mouth says, “You still think of me as your little girl, don’t you, dad?” You know, formerly little sis, I really don’t want to think about why mom is protecting her breasts and Grampa Jim’s face looks flushed, after that statement. My daughter said, “What does that mean, daddy?” I said, “Daddies remember their daughters when they were little and cute, even when they are older and not so cute.” My daughter said, “Oh! When I am old, you will think of me like I am now?” I said to her, “Daughter, with your facial features as they are now, you will probably not look much different when you are older.” My daughter said, “Huh?”

    In the last picture, mom and Grampa Jim are still on the fallen log, but now it looks like our friend, Good Ol’ Charlie Brown put on a wig and mom’s clothes for the picture where she hugs Grampa Jim. Mom used to say that she sometimes used a stunt double for pictures she had taken hugging Grampa Jim, and it looks like that’s what happened in this one. In the foreground, I am putting dirt in Lizzie’s hair, just like she put dirt in her own hair. I look pleased. She looks startled. I think this is because Lizzie planned to put more dirt in her own hair, and I beat her to it. The word balloon coming out of Grampa Jim’s mouth is “No---but if you’re allowed to grow up, I’m allowed to get mushy about it.” I am not sure what “mushy” meant for Grampa Jim, but it might be the “mushy” way his eyeballs are positioned on his head, or the “mushy” way he grew a left breast. My daughter said, “Oh. Grampa Jim is sad Gramma Elly is old.” I said, “Aren’t we all?” My daughter said, “Huh?”

    More tomorrow, formerly little sis.

    Michael Patterson


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