by Dee Detarsio
An hour later he came and found me outside, “Miss Lisby, we’re ready for your close up.”
I went inside where Sam had the lights repositioned to shoot me doing promos near the tree. The beautiful tree. “Oh, my gosh, Elgin, I have never seen a more stunning tree.” I hadn’t, either. Everything Elgin had chosen came together and just worked. I had always secretly wanted a chi chi tree, but Christmas was all about my kids and their stuff. I couldn’t ever imagine not using their ornaments. But I was weak. This tree was gorgeous. Elgin had it situated so you could see my kitchen behind the tree.
Dustin got me mic-ed up and they positioned me standing in front of the tree with my arms crossed.
“OK, we’re going to have you do a couple of promos,” Elgin directed me. “Try to look exciting, we’re trying to tease viewers to make them want to tune in when the show finally airs. Remember, we’re building hype, so perk it up.”
He gave me my first tease to read.
“Check out this miracle…The Kitchen Shrink…for the ultimate in life and home makeovers.” I know Elgin was just paying me back for repainting the kitchen because he made me do that thirty times.
Then, he had me kneeling by the tree, making sure to see part of my kitchen in the background. “Happy holidays, happy home, happy mental health, from The Kitchen Shrink.”
Oh God. Elgin made me wrap one of the red boas around me for the next one.“Ho, ho, ho. Feng Shui your way to a better life in the New Year with The Kitchen Shrink.”
I was exhausted. The promos took nearly two hours. Who knew?
While I still had the boa on I did one for Elgin. “Spiel or no Spiel? I’m just say-ing, redecorate your life with The Kitchen Shrink.”
“So funny I forgot to laugh,” Elgin said. “I guess it’s time for your early Christmas present.”
Chapter 25
Regift
I loved presents even though they rarely lived up to their expectations. I never knew what exactly I was expecting, but I was usually aware of feeling let down upon the unwrapping. This time was no exception.
I wondered what Elgin got me? Maybe a new set of pans, seeing how he had mocked my beat up crusty pots. Or, maybe a chef? Oh my gosh. That would be the best present ever. Maybe I won something for being a good contestant. Oh brother, just how greedy was I? So, imagine my surprise when I went from dreams of a personal chef, even for just a couple of weeks (I wasn’t a total hog) to Elgin’s so-called gift.
I followed Elgin into the kitchen. “Mom. Hi.”
She nodded her head and thrust out a white casserole dish with navy blue flowers stenciled on the side. I sniffed. Oh God. Please don’t let it be her hamburger, cheese and potatoes casserole. Just thinking about it gave me diarrhea. All that grease. Oh, the humanity. Growing up, every time she used to make it, the casserole would spill over in the oven necessitating an oven cleaning immediately following dinner, which emitted such a putrid burnt oil stench it had to be carcinogenic. To top it off, my mom always got confused, and thinks I actually like that starchy enemy of arteries.
“Oh, I made you some Hamburger, Cheese and Potatoes you like so much,” she’d sing. I swallowed and tried to breathe through my mouth. I like hamburgers, I like cheese, and I like potatoes, but there’s not enough salt and ketchup in the world that could make that concoction win any prize except for maybe most time spent in the bathroom.
My mom pinched her lips together as I tried to smile. “Elgin said you weren’t doing very well and that you needed this,” she said, holding her peace offering.
I held my breath and peeked under the tinfoil. Tuna burgers. “Yes!” I said. I looked at Elgin who had his arms folded and realized he had to have told my mom that I was distraught, and blamed myself for being so mean to my mother, and that I was worried she’s never going to forgive me, for her to make an appearance. She was even wearing her good perfume, which competed with and obviously was winning over the tuna.
Under the guise of being “the bigger one, willing to forgive and forget” as her religion was so keen on, she must have sucked it up a lot and taken pity on me. Plus, I knew she was dying to see my kitchen and what the TV crew was up to. A million things ran through my head and before I could let the ugly thoughts in, I took an imaginary pair of snippers and held them against the big red throbbing angry vein filled with wrongdoings suffered and complaints against my mother, and I cut it.
Also, I was so happy she wasn’t bearing the Ham-Chee-Po casserole, as my sister used to call it. I let all, well most, of my mother’s passive aggressive insults, you can’t spell either passive or aggressive without a-s-s, disintegrate in an imaginary self-cleaning oven. I do want a relationship with my mom, and I took a cue from my own kids, who, when they thought of me at all, were usually pretty annoyed with me. It doesn’t feel so good on that side of the fence, as I well knew, and I tried to remember this is my mom, and she loves me. I love her too, even if sometimes I don’t like her very much.
I took the dish from her and set it on my new kitchen island countertop and gave my mom a big hug. And it wasn’t just because I knew the camera was rolling. “I’m so sorry, Mom,” I told her. “Thanks for coming and thanks for making this. You know it’s my favorite and I just can’t ever make it like you.”
“You’re just too impatient, Lisby, always cutting corners,” she tsked at me. But instead of being mad I swiped it away as idle, meaningless chatter that she had no idea bugged me so. Half the time I never knew what I said that bothered my kids so much.
“You’re right,” I agreed with her, amazed at how easy it was to make her happy. “So, what do you think of my kitchen?”
She looked around, nodded, walked over to the cabinets, pulled open the oven door, tweaked a shutter and swiped her hand over the paint.
“Hmm,” she said. “What’s this whole thing you have going on here?” She waved her hand over the wall.
My shoulders were inching their way up to visit my ears. “Just a faux finish.”
“I see.”
“What do you think? Do you like it?”
“I guess I would have liked to see another color…”
“What?” I couldn’t help myself.
“You know, like a bright cheery red, or something?”
My mom was joking. She really was trying to kid with me. “Aw, mom, what did Elgin tell you?” I laughed.
“Oh, you were pretty upset, weren’t you?”” she said to Elgin, who still wasn’t smiling.
“My daughter did a beautiful job, after all. Didn’t she? Admit it. On camera, Sir.”
Elgin pushed his glasses up. “It’s fine. But it’s like comparing a volumizer with Suave shampoo, two entirely different things. One provides rich movement, texture and drama and the other, well, gets the job done.”
My mom walked over to Elgin and actually pinched his cheek. “Oh, you’re good.” She turned to me, “I can’t wait to hear your stories,” she said, “and see the show.”
“Me too,” I said, surprising myself. Now that we were almost finished, I really did have time to wonder what the show would turn out to be. “Thanks again for coming mom, I’m sorry and I have a lot to tell you. Do you want a sandwich with me?”
“No. But I did bring buns and extra for all the TV people.” She helped me make a plate full of tuna burgers and while she didn’t have one, she ate up all the compliments.
I walked her out to her car and told her a little bit about Nicole, and how scared I was.
“Oh, my, you were such a grumpy dump little girl, growing up.” She told me. “But, Nicole, she’s tough. She’ll be OK. She’s got some good horse sense from her father mixed in with a sweet personality. Besides, you’re a really good mom and your kids adore you.”
“Really?” I quirked my eyebrow and then stopped when I realized that’s what my mom always does.
“Really, Lisby. Sometimes I’m jealous of how well you are doing, because I came from an era where we didn’t have all the opportunities you women have
today, and I guess maybe I didn’t take advantage of the opportunities I did have.”
“What do you mean, Mom?”
“Oh, don’t think you kids were such a joy to be around all the time. I always wanted to be a private investigator. Like that Cybil Shepherd was on Moonlighting.”
“I never knew that.” Who would have thought?
“There are lots of things you don’t know about me, just as I’m sure there’s a lot I don’t know about you. And guess what, there’s even more you don’t know about your own kids.” She laughed. Wickedly, I thought.
“We’ll have to do lunch, then.”
“I’ll cook.”
“Good idea.”
She leaned in and whispered, “Come in my car a second, and take off your mic.”
I looked back at Sam and told him I needed to talk to my mom. I shut my mic off and got in her car.
“Is there something going on?” she asked me.
“What?”
“With that cameraman.”
I began to do my ritual disclaimer, keeping all private and pertinent info to myself and away from my mom. But, screw it. I wanted a good relationship with my mom, even if that meant going against a lifetime of habit and sharing personal, gulp, feelings. “Isn’t he cute?” I said.
“He is very sexy,” my mother agreed.
Ugh. And just like Nicole, I asked my mother to refrain. “Mom, please don’t ever say that word again.”
She laughed. “He likes you, I can tell.”
“That’s the thing, mom. He likes Daria, and Daria likes him. They’re going out. She and I are fighting, I can’t even talk about it.”
“Good Lord. Who haven’t you fought with on this show?”
“I think I’ve got all those bases covered.” I had fought with Elgin, Daria, my mom, my kids, my ex; pretty much everyone in my universe.
Not quite everyone. I snuck a quick look through my mom’s bug-spattered windshield, at Sam who was talking to one of the carpenters. I patted my mom’s hand, which in our family was practically a French kiss, got out of her car, and waved goodbye.
Chapter 26
‘Tis the Season
‘Tis the season to gain weight, break out and have nothing to wear. On top of that, I was in reality show TV trouble. Any sin on TV can be forgiven, no, applauded, except for the sin of being boring. And it appears I was the harlot of ennui. I know Elgin hated me and if he had had any snippet of video of me nailing the dry wall guy, he would have used it to cover his own, smaller than mine, ass. Polly Purebred was making more drop-in visits, breathing down both mine and Elgin’s necks.
They loved it when my kids mouthed off. They loved it that I found out my son was in a physical relationship on TV, as blurted out by my ex, and were thrilled when Nicole got her belly button pierced. They loved my mom, and our parting fight which I’m pretty sure makes me look pretty bad. The blind date went OK by their standards; heaven only knows what the editors will do with that. If they put little thought bubbles over my head I will scream. I think Sam was gracious enough not to notice or shoot my sopping shoes. And while I’d be happy to never run into Teddy of Blind Man’s Bluff fame, I must admit the plantation shutters are fabulous.
So, on the plus side, I’ve been able to hide Ryan riding with a drunk driver and nearly getting arrested. I’m pretty sure they don’t know about the pot I found in Nicole’s room, and there’s no way they would have known Daria and I smoked it. Nicole’s doing OK and seems happier these days. She had another good check-up at the doctor who told me she thought Nicole was doing fine. The prescription was easy to swallow—spend more time together.
While I’m enjoying hanging out with Nicole, and I’m back to driving her crazy, I miss Daria and hope we can make up soon. I’ve tried calling her a million times and begging for mercy. She just tells me everything is fine and she’s not mad at me, she’s just been busy.
“I know you’re going out with Sam, why can’t we talk about it” I told her. “I’m happy for you, he’s great.”
“Lisby, please.” She told me. “This is important that you just respect my privacy right now.” Fine. So I will.
So, I was in trouble with a capital T on TV. I feel like I haven’t lived up to my end of the bargain, even though I’ve participated to the best of my ability. Besides, there’s that money that I wish I didn’t even know about. I can’t stop spending it in my head. It would really help take some of the pressure off. I could get Ryan prepared for college, and put some away for Nicole, and myself, to have a cushion when something else goes wrong. I’ve been upbeat and open with Elgin but I know it’s not enough.
I haven’t lost a ton of weight, sprouted an ass-sized pair of boobs, found religion, a man, or a woman, for that matter. I have a sneaking suspicious the producers would love that. Lady love. In theory, a great idea, I always used to joke I would love to have a wife, but in reality I just don’t get how that works. I must be careful to not be as effusive in my greetings as I was to the Feng Shui lady or who knows what kind of story line they’ll concoct. I shudder to see what this show is really going to look like because I don’t know whose reality it will be.
I haven’t had an earth-shattering reunion with my mother, even though it was great to make up with her. I haven’t remembered a history of abuse, or any past lives. They don’t seem to be able to find me a guy to go out with, even though they somehow found out about the Martinator and tried to bring him back for round two. Daria said she smoothed that one over with the Martinator.
They finally seemed resigned the fact that I’m just a plain, ol ordinary lady. The most excitement was my pimple last week that was so big I had to name it. Actually, Elgin did. Naturally. I felt the tingle and bump as the onslaught of stress concentrated smack dab on the center of my forehead, between my eyebrows. If it had just been off to one side it wouldn’t have looked so bad. I tried to juice up on the kid’s ProActiv, the stuff Katy Perry swears by that doesn’t really seem to work as well for people who aren’t pop stars with stylists.
“Damn Lisby, how’s Popeye doing?” Elgin thinks that’s really funny since he keeps saying he wants to pop my third eye.
Then, Nicole ended up with pink eye. I’m sure it wasn’t the colored contact lenses that she borrowed from her girlfriend. I spent 20 years shoving those freaking disks in my eyes to see better, she does it on a whim to make her brown eyes blue. And Ryan had ringworm. At least he could cover that up. So not only were we boring, we were pretty unattractive, the only sin on TV bigger than being boring.
The kitchen is amazing. They did a bit with me using a mitre saw to create the crown molding. Audience, you need to know, they told me what to say and where to draw the line and exactly how to saw. Like I actually measured how to butt up two pieces of corner molding.
“Crown molding makes my brain mold, when it comes to figuring angles,” I tried to tell them.
Boy there’s a lot that goes into remodeling a kitchen. But the progress has been amazing. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. Reality TV, with all the magical elves who make it happen, is the only way to fly for a room makeover. They even clean up the mess after themselves, every day! Imagine!
Things are still iffy with Daria and I’m getting worried about ever making up with her. She’s been so secretive because of Sam, the cameraman, who I’ve finally admitted to myself, after several secret fantasies, to having a crush on. Sam doesn’t talk about her, but then again, he’s no Teddy the Blind Guy, he’s not the type of guy to kiss and tell. But I bet he’s a good kisser.
If I have trouble falling asleep at night one of my favorite fantasies is where Sam shows up for work one day, and for some reason, I never bother to fill in the blanks, I’m a very busy woman and it’s a fantasy after all, no one else is around. I’m wearing some killer outfit, that I don’t even own and would never buy, and I’m looking all hot, and much younger, and I’m just having a glass of wine, while, again, for some strange reason, I am trying to put up crown
molding. I take a misstep on the ladder and Sam is there to catch me. Then we kiss, discover we’re soul mates, blah blah. I actually was daydreaming that sweet scenario last night heading into nightdreaming as I tossed and turned on my pillow. But dreams, like life, seldom follow the script. Instead, I had a McSticky affair with the late President Gerald Ford. What the heck? I was a kid when he was in office. Never found him attractive. Never even thought about him. Except to maybe wonder why his funeral lasted so long. Sorry, no disrespect intended, may he rest in peace. So where did that come from? I demand a do over.
I heard Elgin clapping his hands. Like the bad puppy I was, I slunk downstairs, head hanging, wondering what I was guilty of now.
“Lisby. Interview time.”
“Whatever,” I said, plopping down into the overstuffed chair in my family room. “I’ve pretty much told you everything there is to know.”
“Yes,” said Elgin, pretending to drowse, “we know.” He waited while Sam did a quick adjustment to the lighting. “Ready?” he said. Sam nodded.
“Lisby. ‘Tis the season.”
I nodded. I hated the stress of Christmas. One time, when Brett and I were still married, we took the kids to Maui for Christmas. Mele Kalikimaki. The pine smell of the imported live Christmas trees mixed with the aroma of coconut suntan oil doused the sun-streaming lobby in an aromatherapy fusion no one could have concocted. Pine and coconut usually don’t mix. But trust me, it was the best. Ukulele players and hula dancers wearing very little meandered through the hotel singing Christmas carols. I loved it. It was very crowded, but it was worth not putting up our tree back home, not freaking out about putting up all the outside decorations and lights and then fighting with Brett about turning them on and off, since he had it rigged where you had to climb over our privet hedge to reach the electric outlet. We were usually too lazy to turn them on, let alone turn them off.
