yet.”
“Why not? They’ll all be so proud of you.”
“May I remind you this is your family?”
“What kind of career opportunity?” Stan barked. Cue temples. “She’s already got a job.”
“No, no, I know Dad,” Artie said. “This is something different. Something extra.”
“Well, I’m not changing her schedule so she can go work somewhere else. It’s bad enough I gotta rearrange things when it’s Hebrew School and soccer. I’m running a doctor’s office, not a day-care center.” Right side vibrating.
“Dad. Relax. Mindy is still working for you. This is more like a contest she entered.”
Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead
83
“A contest?” Ira butt in. “Mindy, what the hell? Now you’re tryin’ to win a job?”
“Here it comes.” Mindy gulped the last of her wine.
“It’s not what you think,” Artie replied.
“Yeah. Who enters a contest for a job if they already have one?” Stan asked.
“Guys, listen.” Artie tapped his glass with a spoon. “It’s a writing contest for Downtown Greetings. Think of it as like American Idol for birthdays and holidays.”
“I didn’t know Mindy could sing,” Rhoda said. “Stan, did you know she could sing?”
“Mom. It’s not a singing contest, it’s a writing contest. And she’s going to Chicago because she made it through the first round of competition.”
“I never buy Downtown Greetings,” Dana sniffed. “They don’t use recycled paper.”
“You win, Mindy,” Ira groaned. “You found something my wife doesn’t like buying.”
“When’s she going to Chicago?” Stan’s temples did the cha-cha. “If she takes extra vacation days, the girls in the office will never let me hear the end of it.”
“Mindy, you didn’t say anything about this.” Her mom leaned over. “If you need me to watch the kids, you gotta let me know
’cause my mahjong weekend is coming up.”
“Happy?” Mindy whispered to Artie. “I know I am.”
“I think it’s cool,” Aaron muttered.
“What?” Artie cupped his ear.
“I’m just sayin’. She’s funny, so her cards would be a hoot.”
“Thank you, Aaron.” Mindy patted his hand.
“Yeah. Don’t listen to them.” He stuffed pie in his mouth.
“Anyone wanna go throw beer off the deck? Give the fish a good time?”
“I do! I do!” Ricky jumped up.
84
Saralee Rosenberg
“See?” Artie was beaming. “My sons understand!”
“Oh, I understand, too,” Stan grumbled. “I understand that once again I’m expected to be Mr. Nice Guy.”
“You’re a doctor, Papa.” Ricky clapped. “Dr. Nice Guy.”
“That’s me all right!” He poured more wine. “Dr. Nice Guy!”
Mindy didn’t want to be accused of being negative, but clearly the right destination with the wrong people never works, particularly if those people are staying in the same stateroom. Try as Rhoda did to accommodate everyone’s wishes (hers!), the room assignments went like this: she and Stan would have the Royal Family suite (“Because it’s our special anniversary and we’re paying”). Ira and Brandon were bunking with Artie and Aaron.
Helene and Aunt Toby got Stacie and Jamie, which left Mindy and Ricky in a cabin with Dana and Abigail, who, on the first morning, threw Mindy’s new blush brush down the toilet and cried when mean Aunt Mindy yelled at her.
“Why don’t you guys watch TV while we get changed?”
Mindy tried to be sweeter.
“She doesn’t watch at home,” Dana sniffed. “Why would she want to watch here?”
“She doesn’t watch television? Like ever?”
“There was that one time Plácido Domingo was on Sesame Street . . . Abby, honey, why don’t you sing Aunt Mindy that song you learned about photosynthesis?”
But Aunt Mindy couldn’t offer “Abby honey” her undivided attention, as she was distracted by Ricky, who had wrapped a plastic snake around his neck and was shadowboxing on their bed while making chimpanzee noises. Premonition was the term that came to
“Why not? They’ll all be so proud of you.”
“May I remind you this is your family?”
“What kind of career opportunity?” Stan barked. Cue temples. “She’s already got a job.”
“No, no, I know Dad,” Artie said. “This is something different. Something extra.”
“Well, I’m not changing her schedule so she can go work somewhere else. It’s bad enough I gotta rearrange things when it’s Hebrew School and soccer. I’m running a doctor’s office, not a day-care center.” Right side vibrating.
“Dad. Relax. Mindy is still working for you. This is more like a contest she entered.”
Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead
83
“A contest?” Ira butt in. “Mindy, what the hell? Now you’re tryin’ to win a job?”
“Here it comes.” Mindy gulped the last of her wine.
“It’s not what you think,” Artie replied.
“Yeah. Who enters a contest for a job if they already have one?” Stan asked.
“Guys, listen.” Artie tapped his glass with a spoon. “It’s a writing contest for Downtown Greetings. Think of it as like American Idol for birthdays and holidays.”
“I didn’t know Mindy could sing,” Rhoda said. “Stan, did you know she could sing?”
“Mom. It’s not a singing contest, it’s a writing contest. And she’s going to Chicago because she made it through the first round of competition.”
“I never buy Downtown Greetings,” Dana sniffed. “They don’t use recycled paper.”
“You win, Mindy,” Ira groaned. “You found something my wife doesn’t like buying.”
“When’s she going to Chicago?” Stan’s temples did the cha-cha. “If she takes extra vacation days, the girls in the office will never let me hear the end of it.”
“Mindy, you didn’t say anything about this.” Her mom leaned over. “If you need me to watch the kids, you gotta let me know
’cause my mahjong weekend is coming up.”
“Happy?” Mindy whispered to Artie. “I know I am.”
“I think it’s cool,” Aaron muttered.
“What?” Artie cupped his ear.
“I’m just sayin’. She’s funny, so her cards would be a hoot.”
“Thank you, Aaron.” Mindy patted his hand.
“Yeah. Don’t listen to them.” He stuffed pie in his mouth.
“Anyone wanna go throw beer off the deck? Give the fish a good time?”
“I do! I do!” Ricky jumped up.
84
Saralee Rosenberg
“See?” Artie was beaming. “My sons understand!”
“Oh, I understand, too,” Stan grumbled. “I understand that once again I’m expected to be Mr. Nice Guy.”
“You’re a doctor, Papa.” Ricky clapped. “Dr. Nice Guy.”
“That’s me all right!” He poured more wine. “Dr. Nice Guy!”
Mindy didn’t want to be accused of being negative, but clearly the right destination with the wrong people never works, particularly if those people are staying in the same stateroom. Try as Rhoda did to accommodate everyone’s wishes (hers!), the room assignments went like this: she and Stan would have the Royal Family suite (“Because it’s our special anniversary and we’re paying”). Ira and Brandon were bunking with Artie and Aaron.
Helene and Aunt Toby got Stacie and Jamie, which left Mindy and Ricky in a cabin with Dana and Abigail, who, on the first morning, threw Mindy’s new blush brush down the toilet and cried when mean Aunt Mindy yelled at her.
“Why don’t you guys watch TV while we get changed?”
Mindy tried to be sweeter.
“She doesn’t watch at home,” Dana sniffed. “Why would she want to watch here?”
“She doesn’t watch television? Like ever?”
“There was that one time Plácido Domingo was on Sesame Street . . . Abby, honey, why don’t you sing Aunt Mindy that song you learned about photosynthesis?”
But Aunt Mindy couldn’t offer “Abby honey” her undivided attention, as she was distracted by Ricky, who had wrapped a plastic snake around his neck and was shadowboxing on their bed while making chimpanzee noises. Premonition was the term that came to
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