Butter Safe Than Sorry by Tamar Myers Page A

turned then and waved a dripping wooden spoon in my direction. "You will listen to me, Magdalena Portulacca, or you too will take a nap."
    Suddenly I was a ten-year-old girl again, and Freni was a much younger woman cooking at the very same stove. Upstairs Mama lay in bed, having recently given birth to Susannah. Yes, I'd been totally ignored by both overjoyed parents for the last week or so, but that was no excuse for what I'd done. How dared I have cut up one of the parlor curtains to sew clothes for my favorite doll, Melissa?
    But it was just one panel, I tried to argue, and besides, no one ever used the parlor. Of course they wouldn't see things my way. Wasn't I too old to play with dolls? It was time I put away such foolish things and helped out with the housework. Cousin Freni was there only to wait on Mama (she had a bad case of the "nerves"), so of course there were a lot of other important things I could be doing--like washing out Susannah's poopy diapers or scrubbing pots and pans.
    "Okay, already, I'll listen."
    The dripping spoon froze just inches from my nose. "I have been thinking, Magdalena, not just about you and Dr. Rosen, but about me and Barbara as well." She actually winced when speaking her only daughter- in-law's name. "We are not seeing the forest before the trees."
    "Come again?"
    "Take this daughter-in-law, for example; she has many faults, yah?"
    "Oh, yes, indeed! She's too tall and she's from Iowa."
    "Is this sarcasm, Magdalena?"
    "Absolutely not, dear. Any woman over five feet eleven should be shipped off to New Zealand, and the government should do a better job of stopping illegal immigration from the State of Iowa."
    Freni's normally beady eyes shone brightly. "Ach, do you mean this, or do you just pull on my legs?"
    "Sorry, dear, but I just pull on your legs--well, one of them, at any rate. But your point is what, dear? Are my Gabe and your Barbara the trees, or the forest, in your mangled metaphor?"
    Freni threw her stubby arms up, hands open, in a gesture of extreme frustration. The wooden spoon sailed completely across the kitchen, where it smacked against the calendar that hung on the opposing wall beside the refrigerator. Believe me, I am not a superstitious woman, but there was now a meat broth stain on the Ides of March.
    " Gut im Himmel! You want that I should call you a dummkopf ? I am saying that we have much to be thankful for. Especially you. Your Dr. Rosen is tall--but not too tall--and he is not from Iowa. He is also handsome, as well as rich, and he loves you very, very much; this thing I know. Yah, he is not of the faith, and is a mama's boy, but no one is perfect and the final chapter for him is not yet written."
    I felt strangely let down. "That's it? That's your big advice? Count my blessings?"
    She nodded. "Yah, and I will count mine: eins, zwei, drei, vier, fimf ."
    I knew without a doubt that her five enumerated blessings alluded to her beloved husband, Mose; her precious son, Jonathan; and her three adorable grandchildren. Alas, I am not one to let a bone go ungnawed.
    "Sex," I said.
    "Ach!"
    "Well, doesn't that mean six in Pennsylvania Dutch? You better count Barbara too, because it is thanks to her that numbers drei , vier , and fimf came along. But, come to think of it, a little sex was probably involved as well."
    "Ach!" Freni clapped her hands tightly over her ears and fled to the pantry.
    Feeling strangely better about the puppy situation, I headed out through the dining room and back to the office/foyer. I had a lot of work to do, if indeed the horde from Hoboken was going to experience an authentic Amish supper. The first thing on my agenda was getting these folks to work up an honest country-style appetite.
    "Come on, people," I barked (gently, of course) to the stragglers who were still struggling to get their bulging valises up my impossibly steep stairs. "Tote that bag, and lift that tote, but if you gets a little drunk, then no fruit compote."
    "That woman is