There’s trouble in Virginia City that looks an awful lot like Brooklyn.
Carmela and her family have houseguests…their son, along with his wife and 6-month old baby girl are visiting from Holland.
Sounds sweet, I know, but what nobody counted on was one jealous basset hound.
If Carmela isn’t careful, she’ll be sent to a kennel for the duration of their stay. Of course I’d show up in a stretch limo to spring her, but hopefully it won’t be necessary.
After knocking on the door, I was surprised she wasn’t waiting, wiggling in the foyer. The chef, who last week scolded me for bringing bread, “Dun’t you know, I beeke bread? I am the cheef.” (it only took 8 baguettes for him to tell me)…let me in wearing a very grim expression.
Carmela, who evidently tried to smack the baby, was locked in the downstairs kitchen. Her father came running down the stairs (how do you say fatootsed in Spanish) to tell me she’s in the doghouse, his apparent upset translating in 15 languages.
We went to get her from the kitchen where she was facing the wall, out of rage more than remorse, never being so severely punished before.
She came to me with a look like…thank God you’re here. There’s a big toy upstairs they won’t let me play with. I don’t get it…plus it smells.
Suddenly who makes an appearance but the baby, who I hate to say, is probably the strangest looking baby I’ve ever seen…she’s cross-eyed like Clarence the lion with corkscrew curls that Gerber won’t be using anytime soon on their applesauce jars.
No wonder Carmela wanted to shove her under the couch.
When I pretended to be charmed…coochie-coochie-coo…if looks could kill.
“You too Susannah?”
We then took our much needed walk to everyone’s relief.
When we got to the promenade, I sat Carm down for a good heart-to-heart. Of course it involved quite a few cookies, but this called for extreme measures.
“Carmela, she’s just a baby…you need to leave her alone, or else.”
“But what’s her problem. I’m almost her size…why won’t she play?”
“First of all, you make three of her, if you don’t mind me saying, and she’s a baby, not a stuffed cat, which by the way…I saw how you ripped its face off. What the hell was that about. I gave that to to you.”
“They don’t make-em like they used to.”
“If you don’t stop misbehaving, they’re going to send you away.”
“So I’ll come live with you.”
“I’m not sure they’d go for that since I’ve often offered to take you for the weekend. In spite of everything, they love you, but it’s their granddaughter for godssake.”
“And what am I, chopped liver?”
“I’m warning you Tubes…get it together. Look, how bout if I come twice this week and next, while they’re here. Would that make you feel better?”
“Do ya know what would make me feel better? Got anymore a’ those Parmesan numbers….the round ones with the holes in the middle?”
So after Carmela gained six more pounds, we went back to the house where tea was being served. They let me bring her into the parlor where we sat sipping on the floor. The baby was very excited to see her, so I know, there’s a possibility of a ceasefire.
Carmela, ignoring her whispered, “Okay, I’ll behave, but she still smells.”