Frankie Gets Uppity

The New Year has barely begun and … We are in crisis! In turmoil! In chaos! First, Frankie demanded that I address him as “Francis” in all future blogs (You remember Frankie? Our pet fish, personal secretary, chauffeur, and occasional turkey chef? If not, put the word “Frankie” into the search box at the top left of this page). Frankie sought another concession - but I balked at calling him “Sir” Francis. So now he’s miffed. 

As if that weren’t bad enough, my friend Sadie upped and quit her job with The Chicago Bugle (Surely you remember Sadie? The advice-to-the-lovelorn columnist? If not, check the Index under Ask Sadie).

Sadie: Wake up and
smell the coffee!

It seems that Sadie told her boss to go butter his bagels (a food reference, I guess), storming out of the office without so much as a mazel tov. If truth be known, her romantic advice had become far too racy for stolid Chicago after her widely read column suggested new uses for desktops, ironing boards, and kitchen tables.  

And so she blew her last Bugle call,  bidding farewell to the city she once called “Hog Butcher for the World, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and the Nation’s Freight Handler; Stormy, husky, brawling, City of the Big Shoulders …” a little ditty she says she doodled on a napkin in 1963. Ever modest and self-effacing, she back-dated her poem, offering it to the world under the nom de plume “Carl Sandburg.”

What’s good for the Bugle is bad for the strumpet: We were all set to say no, but Frankie (who moonlights as our butler), welcomed Sadie with open fins when she showed up at the door. She’s taken up residence in the spare room, where she passes the hours crying and quaffing Jell-O shots as Frankie (a water drinker, himself) tries to console her. 

I made Sadie a welcoming dinner of gefilte fish, but she recently became a vegan and wouldn’t touch it. She’s proudly gluten-free, too. And doesn’t consume dairy because she’s lactose-intolerant (though sometimes a Bugle toot is just a Bugle toot). And (her flirtation with veganism notwithstanding) she doesn’t eat meat on Fridays. But the Jell-O shots slide right down. 

Frankie and Sadie have become emotionally close, especially because he’s lonely and she’s got a whole lot of free advice. 

She says: “Wake up and smell the coffee!” even though he’s never had a cup in his life. 

He says: “I’m a bird in a gilded cage!” even though he’s a fish. 

She says: “The first time I heard that one, I kicked the slats out of my cradle!” even though she’s not exactly a babe.  

Somehow, the relationship works - with one snag. Although Frankie yearns to be addressed as “Sir Francis,” Sadie persists in calling him her “little pool boy.” 

There is something that concerns us, though. At Sadie’s urging, Frankie recently added a surfboard to his aquarium. The scary thing is, Sadie wants to teach him what she says is “a whole new use for the board.” To be continued ...

So this is a round-about way of telling you that things are nuts around here. I have no time to blog recipes just now, and won’t be able to for awhile. Until then, mazel tov, Dollinks!