Always a Bubbie to Me

There. You have the punchline.

The BJ (Billy Joel, right?) lyrics go:

And she'll promise you more
Than the Garden of Eden
Then she'll carelessly cut you
And laugh while you're bleedin'

But she'll bring out the best
And the worst you can be
Blame it all on yourself
Cause she's always a woman to me

(And he starts humming)

But FD has a classical background, so he's not above mixing and matching lyrics and songs. He's making coffee, late, 5:30 a.m., and I meet him down in the kitchen, stumble in to get my tall glass of 2 oz grapefruit juice, ice, 6 oz water. You develop weird tastes when you get old, my father swears by honey and lemon juice in hot water, also a good thing.

I'm wearing my powder blue terry-cloth robe and FD is in his matching maroon. We discuss that the new bag of Papa Nicholas coffee has no Papa Nicholas points for some reason.

He takes his hand and sneaks it under the sleeve of my robe so our two arms are now one arm, handless, just a stream of powder blue and maroon terry-cloth.

I say: You are very silly.

He smiles, can't get over how funny he is.

I say: We're not getting any younger. I, at least am feeling like an older woman.

He jumps right in: Ah, but you break like a little girl.

I smile.

And you're always a bubbie to me.

See how that works?

Flying Bubbish

The Gardening Saba

Here are my first three, camoflaged in the irises 25 years ago.



Saba, otherwise known as FD, is upset when it rains every single day. Or so it seems every spring.

Why? Because he can't mow the lawn. Or his plans to mow the lawn have been interrupted.

On the other hand, he'll say, Water is good for the garden.
So it's always a gam zu.*

He's planted all kinds of things in the backyard this year for the rabbits, skunks, and possums to eat. We'll be lucky if we see a single bean.

Anyway, he tookthe starter plants from my father a few years ago who also gardens, mostly by pointing to the plants and the spots he wants the landscaper to place them.

I think the pink ones in the top picture are peonies. They started out a few years ago as a tiny clump of green, and now look at them. Earwig bait.

But the irises on the left were in front of my house when we moved in 30 years ago (yes, 30 years ago this October). These used to take up that entire patch, a stunning spread of purple and white. But neighbors took my silence as permission to thin them out, take a few for themselves. So the iris patch thinned, and thinned and pretty soon there was nothing left.

But this year, perhaps because the weather has been so incredibly bad (meaning cold and wet) G-d himself determined that the irises should be fruitful and multiply, and they're back, just waiting to grow to the point where little children, literally, can hide in them.


Bubbie Clicking

* A gam zu, rhymes with mom-two, is Hebrew for, This too, but is associated, with

This too, is good.