勝美2

金曜五 and The Friday Five doubleheader!

Questions courtesy of 金曜五.

1. Whatcha been up to?

Had my first virtual doctor appointment over the telephone. And for some reason I did my hair and makeup and wore a pair of my new scrubs as if I was going to the doctor's office.

On Saturday, I went downtown to Meat On The Street. Filipino food.

Halo halo.

Halo halo (pronounced hollow hollow) means "mix mix" and is a member of the kakigori family. Shaved ice, pandan ice cream, ube ice cream, gelatin,  azuki (sweet red beans), fresh cocoanut shreds, nata de coco, condensed milk, leche flan and pinipig (toasted rice grain). Served with a spoon. And a paper Philippines flag. Too cute.

It was a warm day. I headed east towards the river (and got stuck waiting on the bridge because of slowpoke boat traffic which seems to happen whenever the river isn't frozen) and ate / drank the halo halo under the harbor bridge. Sometime during the past ten years a chain-link  fence was installed. So. Had to go by the docks.

At the berth where my favorite boat, E M Ford, sank on Christmas Eve 1979 at eighty-one years of age. See her bow? Damaged by strong winds tearing her loose from her mooring lines and crashing her repeatedly into the seawall.

And yes. It is a boat. I cannot tell you how many times internet people have tried to correct me. Not a ship. I don't make the rules; I just follow them.

Look it up if you don't believe me.

Uh huh. I was right.

Would I lie to you?

Boats are actually bigger than ships. Boats must forever sail the lakes. They cannot fit through the locks of the St Lawrence Seaway. They cannot reach the ocean. Like foreign ships. Which introduced invasive species in their ballast. Lamprey eels, zebra mussels, quagga mussels.

The St Lawrence, meant to bring international trade to Canadian and American inland ports, wasn't all that great of an idea in the first place. Freshwater seas are not as buoyant as saltwater seas. So. Foreign ships dump their imports, take on a partial load of exports, then stop in an Atlantic port for more export cargo.

I'm glad I didn't get halo haloes (sp?) for my friend Spewgie, her daughter Spewgie Jr and Mr Spewgie 'cause they'd have melted. Probably into something kinda cocoanutty and delicious and chunky and supersweet.

For my introduction to Filipino food, I ordered the kabob platter. Ten assorted meats (pork, chicken, beef) on wood skewers, ten assorted egg rolls, ten Shanghai lumpia (giniling — minced pork with potatoes and carrots — wrapped in a thin egg crêpe and deep fried which Myrtle The Wonder Cat really loved), pancit bihon (fried rice noodles) and white rice. Three scoops. Didn't have to fire up the Zojirushi.

For dessert, turon (a Filipino saba banana — similar to a small plaintain — deep-fried in a spring roll wrapper and dusted with powdered sugar and caramel and very sticky. I think the Philippines is an eat-with-your-hands country), leche flan (very custard-like, differs from Mexican leche flan with condensed milk and more egg yolks) and because they were out of something I'd ordered — siniganga, a sour soup of slow-cooked pork with cabbage, roma tomatoes, and tamarind with white rice — they apologized and asked if I wanted my credit card to be reimbursed or a substitution. I said surprise me and they brought pints of pandan and ube ice creams to my car. Pandan, a fragrant leaf and a beautiful green color; ube made from purple yams. But those ice creams were in my halo halo so I dropped the pints off at Spewgie's. Left 'em on the porch and rang the doorbell. Ding dong ditch. With ice cream instead of zucchini. Which is ready for harvest. And so plentiful you can't give it away. In retrospect I should have requested calamansi lemonade. A citrus native to the Philippines.  No worries. I'll be going back. Everything was delish.

2. What's the latest from the front?

As I type this at two o-clock on Friday morning, eight cars and a motorcycle careened down my street. Driving way too fast. More protests at the mayor's house. Which is in my neighborhood.

Actually the mayor deserves it. Kowtowed to protesters instead of listening to tax-paying Wauwatosa residents. Which team are you playing for? I pray his neighbors get sick and tired and kick his family out of the neighborhood.

And the first thing the mayor does when protesters show up? Call the police. The police he and the Common Council threw under the bus. Condoning teenagers threatening shoppers in a mall with automatic weapons and shooting at police.

My sister Antoinette was talking about taking my niece school shopping.

Tony: Yeah, there are some really cute outfits at Mayfair.
勝美: Mayfair? Crazy girl! Go to Brookfield Square!
Tony: Brookfield Square doesn't have the right shops.
勝美: Then you should have ordered that stuff off the internet.

Well, it's her business. If she wants to get shot or deal with protesters...

I will never forget my older niece's first day of school.

Since she was about two-and-a-half years of age she insisted upon dressing herself. And every day it was a leotard, tights and a tutu. With pink Pumas. Didn't matter if we were going birdwatching or shopping or Trick Or Treating or to church. Winter or summer. Every day. A ballerina.

Echoes of my mother. NO GRAND JETÉ IN THE HOUSE!

So. I'm in the roadster near the school entrance waiting on the bell and she comes running out with the other children. Tears streaming down her face.

Same girl who made her debut as a mouse in Milwaukee Ballet Company's Christmas presentation of The Nutcracker. One of the mice. We practiced our scurrying very hard. Paws up! Paws up! And on the night of the dance, the audience erupted into laughter and applause. Standing ovation.

Little prima donna ran offstage into my arms. "Auntie Tsu Tsu! Auntie Tsu Tsu! Did you see me?"

Yes, lovey. You scurried perfectly.

The other kindergarteners had teased her about her clothes.

"Auntie Tsu Tsu! Take me shopping!"

One step ahead of you, lovey. Had a few outfits ready for her to try on at home.

Or the high speed rollover. Violent crash. I suppose it really wasn't a rollover. The impact took the bark off my neighbors' city tree, the car went airborne, hit my city tree, executed a flip in midair and landed on its roof. In my yard. I cannot even walk barefoot on my own property. Somewhere there is glass.

I thought the house had been struck by lightening. Or an earthquake.

That was the second time there has been a car accident in my neighborhood and I did not render Girl Scout merit badge training first aid. Because this time I ran outside in my stocking feet. In the snow.

"GET OUT OF THE CAR! GET OUT OF THE CAR!"

I have no idea what I would have done if they had gotten out of the car.

During the water rescue for our Girl Scout swimming merit badge, we were instructed if the drowning victim panicked and tried to drag us under, we were supposed to knock them out. We grimly went about our simulated rescues, ready to strike.

Caprice De'sha (pronounced dee shay) Evans and his accomplice couldn't get out of the car. Because their legs were broken.

And they were upside down. Police arrived thirty seconds later. Dragged them out through the broken windows and into the street for the paramedics.

Through the slush at the apron of the driveway. Crybabies. Boo hoo.

Caprice was charged with Operator Flee / Elude Officer — Bodily Harm Or Property Damage, Felony H; Second Degree Recklessly Endangering Safety, Felony G; Drive Or Operate Vehicle W/O Consent, Felony I. The assistant district attorney dropped counts one and three in a plea deal.

Another ten feet and they would have ended up in my living room. Something told me I'd have to repair the damage he caused on my own.

Urm, third accident. Some high school kid came around the corner too fast and hit the curb. Car came to rest in front of my house. And the dumb kid tried cranking the ignition to drive away! Do you see the trail of metal and oil you left behind? That is your differential and driveshaft and transmission. You're not going anywhere, pal. And if you try to make a run for it, it's just gonna go bad for you in court.

The worst accident was two years ago.

Marcedes Craigs had been pulled over for speeding and erratic driving. As the officer approached the black Audi, he noticed the smell of marijuana. Marcedes took off and sped through a red stop 'n' go light. The officer decided not to pursue as school had let out and there were a lot of children on the street. Hopped back in his squad car. A few blocks later, traffic was stopped.

Do you know the sound of tires on pavement and the different pitch of tires when someone is driving too fast? They’re driving way too fast, I thought.

Then there was the sickening sounds of tires screeching and that percussive thunk. I did not know modern cars with anti-lock brakes could make that noise. Myrtle jumped off the desk in a panic. I ran downstairs and put on my sneakers and jumped the backyard fence and ran through the yards.

The lady driving the red minivan. Checked her pulse. Nothing.

I did not help Marcedes Craigs by putting my Girl Scout first aid merit badge training to use.

That bothers me. Do I have a responsibility?

Drug runner, age of twenty-three years, never had a driver’s license, never had a job, was facing forty years in the slammer for Operator Flee / Elude Officer / Death, Second Degree Reckless Homicide, Knowingly Operating While Suspended / Death, and Homicide By Reckless Operation Of A Vehicle Under The Influence.

So. Felony E, Felony D, Felony H, Felony D. Hmmm. I am getting more than forty years. Maybe the district attorney uses some kind of legal mathematics I don’t know about.

I think Marcedes also should be tagged with speeding in excess of 100 mph in a thirty mile zone, speeding in a school zone, drugs in a school zone, driving on the wrong side of the road and habitual criminality. I looked up his rap sheet and it ain’t pretty. Throw the book at him. Take off his Jordans and throw them over the telephone wire ’cause he won’t be needing them anytime soon.

Somehow magically Marcedes was eligible for $150000 cash bail or $60000 with electronic monitoring?

Whoa. Hold your horses. Get back. Since when do murderers get bail? Doesn’t matter. Indigent. With a public defender. Should be a slam dunk.

He got fourteen years.

Fourteen years? You've got to be kidding me. Forgiving Marcedes his trespasses would be a lot easier if he’d gotten life. To me, he is a murderer.

FUN FACT: Wisconsin was one of the first places on Earth to stop the death penalty. That's why we're The Progressive State. Or used to be.

Should have been life. With no chance of parole.

What is happening to my sleepy little village?

Spewgie, Effie, Prissy, Betsy and I are thinking about selling our homes before we lose everything.

Now the National Guard helicopters are hovering over my block. Hey! You! The protesters were headed towards the river. And not stopping at intersections.

Myrtle hates helicopters. More than Comet Shafransky or the little yappy dogs across the street whom she would like to fight. Tries to get at them through the bay window. With my insomnia it's not like I was going to get any sleep anyhow.

So so so. Setting off fireworks. In the middle of the night. All summer long. Kitty-corner from a memory care assisted living facility. Protesters are interrupting the nights of elderly confused people whose nights should not be interrupted.

That's just filthy.

Evidently I'm the only one who cares.

And neighbors received a curious letter.

Strange. I believe it was sent by protest instigators and state representatives David Bowen and Jonathan Brostoff.

To draw attention from their lies about Officer Mensah shooting at protesters in front of his house. Proven by video and the arrest of the three protesters with the shotgun. Trying to avoid censure by the assembly.

I didn't get a letter. Neither did Effervescence.

To the protesters, Effie is an Oreo. I am a Twinkie. Golden on the outside, white on the inside.

Would that be reverse prejudice? Or reverse reverse prejudice?

3. What up?

Yuka Kinoshita attended a special event for oogui / mukbangers at a restaurant (she assured us everyone was tested for COVID-19 because there didn't seem to be too much coronavirus masks or social distancing going on although some people were pixelated so maybe) and the chef prepared a five thousand dollar piece of A5 Wagyu. That's the good kind. Perfectly marbled. Clocked in at twenty pounds.

Chef served her a special cut of the beef sashimi-style. Yuka looked so happy.

It is nice to see Yuka interact with others. And a little bit shocking. In the way when Apenjie on the Dianxi Xiaoge channel puts the rice popsicles she made in a freezer chest. When did she get electricity? Or Liziqi remodeled her bathroom. When did she get indoor plumbing? Or a motorcycle?

I thought they were simple country girls. Gathering food from the countryside. Making paper from mulberry trees. Making dyes to color fabrics. Distilling alcohol.

4. What's new?

My television. The Sony Trinitron finally gave up the ghost. After more than thirty years. A hand-me-down from my parents. Older than me. Football should be really great. If there ever is a football season. And I can watch YouTube. I can eat along with Yuka and scour the Wisconsin countryside to make things with Apenjie and Liziqi. As if I don't do that already. But now it will be in high definition.

5. What's on the agenda?

Bed rest. I kind of overdid it last week. Took the roadster out for a spin that lasted ten hours of straight driving except for going in the drive through for cheeseburgers and two stops for gasoline. And it is pure gasoline. No ten percent ethanol. Ninety-three percent octane. One gas station had one hundred and one octane racing fuel! And I got all sunburned and windburned. That evening I had to fast as the following day was the operation at the hospital and overnight stay. The nurses were concerned. You're all red! Are you feeling okay? Yes. I'm fine. If you look a little closer, you will notice it is what is known in the business as a farmer tan. Forgot to bring along my Shiseido SPF 1,000,000 sunscreen for an afternoon touch-up. And then I went for curbside pickup at the Filipino restaurant on Saturday. They put it right in the trunk of the roadster for me.

Living pretty high off the hog for someone who hasn't been out of the house since March. Except for doctor appointments. A few trips to the Hawaiian delicatessen and the Filipino restaurant. Going to the gun range.

Wild Rose announced they were going ahead with their town's annual car show but I'm not driving five hours round trip to hang with a bunch of up north people incapable of social distancing. Put your mask on, for pity. They just don't get it.

Questions courtesy of Scrivener. Thank you!

Friday 5 for September 11: These acquaintances of mine.

1. Among people you know, who’s always got the best stories?

Spewgie.

It's not necessarily the story. It's the way she tells it. She's just naturally funny.

2. Among people you know, who’s got the worst sense of direction?

Betsy. Or as we call her, Space Monkey.

Part of Girl Scout orienteering required a senior girl to leave a young scout in the woods. The older girl would mark a traceable path: broken branches, a footprint, scuffed leaves, muddy water in a stream, overturned rocks. The younger girl tracked her as if she were tracking an animal. Apparently a very clumsy animal.

We'd have to form search parties to rescue Betsy and her protégée. So. After the first couple of times we assigned Betsy with remaining at camp with a clipboard and checking in the pairs as they returned from tracking. Or geocaching. Or learning to use map and compass which might have benefited Monkey but she was pretty hopeless.

Really good at trig and calc, though. And she can do a Rubik's cube in like two seconds. Spooky.

3. Among people you know, who’s most likely to have the latest tech?

Effie.

Very surprised she didn't have an ASIMO robot to do her homework. And an electric car. But not just any old electric car.

Artist's conception of the Effervescencemobile.

An electric flying car.

4. Among people you know, who’s the best dresser?

Priscilla.

Even when we were in school, Prissy's mad about plaid uniforms somehow looked better than ours. It took us a while to figure it out. While we wore the regulation navy sweater or cardigan, she was wearing cashmere. Not necessarily designer clothes but not Goldmann's.

There was a department store on the south side of the city that had been in business since forever. Goldmann’s Department Store. Going there was like a time warp. Hopping in the DeLorean and driving to the nineteen thirties. Really high ornate ceilings, ancient store fixtures, mannequins in their fixed poses with molded marcelled hair.

Little girl mannequins displayed the latest in mad-about-plaid parochial school fashion straight from the Parisienne runways. In all the different tartans so you could ID your clan: Saint Veronica’s (Saint Moronica’s), Holy Redeemer (Saint Coupon’s), Holy Angels (HA!), Our Lady Of Good Hope (Old Ladies’ Gas House), Holy Apostles (Wholly Apes), Saint Anthony Of Padua (Tony’s Pad), et al.

Not too hard to figure out that chick goes to Saint Burberry’s.

See what I mean?

And practical, everyday stuff. Doilies / antimacassars, Kirby vacuum cleaners, green glass refrigerator containers, frilly aprons, steel-toed boots, leather shoelaces for steel-toed boots, well, you get the picture. There was even a Magnavox hi-fi (high fidelity stereo sound record player) and television in a big wooden cabinet with hinged doors that closed over the television picture and a metal remote control with three buttons. On / off, volume up / volume down and channel up / channel down. In the old days there weren't many TV stations. That thing was pretty ancient but you’d be surprised – a lot of things were made out of metal. Very durable.

Sales Clerk With Blue Hair And Eyeglasses On Metal Chain: Will there be anything else?
Mother: 勝美 is becoming a woman. Do you have training bras?

Oh hell to the no. Tell me I did not hear that. Let’s go to a normal store. Let’s go to the mall. Victoria’s Secret is having a sale, for crying out loud!

Somehow I instinctively knew the But All The Other Girls In My Class Wear Sexy Bras And Panties argument wasn’t going to work.

Mother: 勝美, where are you? Come here. Let the lady take a look at you.

Noooooooooooooooo!!! This place sells 55FF bras to baboushka ladies!!!

Although the area is now largely Hispanic, many ‘baboushka ladies’ still live in the old neighborhoods. They live in houses called ‘Polish flats’ which were very popular at the turn of the nineteenth to the twentieth century with the large influx of Polish immigrants. If you were to knock on the front door of the house at sidewalk level, no one would answer because that is the basement / cellar door. You have a walk up a tall, narrow wooden porch. In fact, that neighborhood is where I get pączki (pronounced poonch – key) on Shrove Tuesday. Super nice people and they actually wear 55FF bras and baboushkas but I think that is a Russian word. And they smell really good. Kind of a rose / dusting powder/ cabbage / pastry thing.

Years later, I asked about the large size bras. With inroads into their sales because of internet shopping, they still managed to sell approximately four dozen annually, mostly to bachelor party guys who do not understand and think fifty-five means Jayne Mansfield.

SCWBHAEOMC: (Really loud.) She doesn’t need a bra. She’s just fine.

%#+!%!

Goldmann’s did not have a sporting goods department or I would have politely asked to see a shotgun and a box of shells. 勝美 Streetsweeper. Dirty 勝美. The Remington pump-action shotgun delivers a payload at the velocity of oblivion and is the deadliest weapon known to girlkind. Go ahead, punk. Make my day.

Mother: Now it is time for lunch. Where do you want to eat? Golden Panda?

Uh huh. Like all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet is going to fix this. I tearfully ran across the sales floor with braids streaming to the undulating curves of the central peninsula of the chrome and formica Goldmann’s luncheonette counter and shimmied up one of the swivelly stools.

Blonde counter lady: Shoppin’ for school clothes, hon?
勝美: (Sniff, sniff.) Uh huh.
Blonde lady: Don’t worry, toots. Got just what you need. Fix you right up.
勝美: (Sniff, sniff.) Okay.

To her everyone was toots or hon or sweetie. It must be nice to go through life all lovey dovey like that. I wonder what she called her boyfriend?

In retrospect, she was probably a BeauTEEN or Clairol blonde. Blue eye shadow, Jean Naté, cinnamon chewing gum. She returned with a gigantic cherry Coca-Cola straight up in a soda fountain glass with a bendy straw and three extra shots of cherry syrup.

Maybe that is why I get along so well with bartenders. Operant conditioning.

Blonde lady: What’ll it be, toots?

Hmmmm. Tough choice. Everything is so good. BLT, grilled cheese, tunafish on lightly toasted white bread.

勝美: Two cheeseburgers, please.
Blonde lady: Two?

I think everything came with a dill pickle spear and french fries. Nom nom nom. And a little sprig of parsley to make everything cheery yet professional.

Heinz 57 ketchup, natch.

Accept no substitutes.

And we’d give ourselves an extra spin around on the counter stool. Whee! May I have cherry pie for dessert? We forgive you, O Mother O’ Mine.

I went there for their final closing sale about fifteen years ago just to thank the blonde lady and have an super ultra cherry Coke but she wasn’t there.

Thank you, blonde lady.

5. Among people you know, who arrives latest to a gathering?

Again, Space Monkey.

In addition to her knack for getting lost, Betsy has a natural proclivity for losing track of time. Spewgie thinks it's because she is a daydreamer and doesn't pay attention. I think it is because she is kind of an absent-minded genius like Einstein or an exceptionally bright chimp or something.

Well she's something, all right.

We took it upon ourselves to call her the day before we have something planned together and again an hour before her designated keeper is scheduled to pick her up. Which has been fairly foolproof for the past twenty years.