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  • Tracey Broussard

The Traveling Tea Party

I'm probably going to get into trouble for writing about this, but I guess it wouldn't be the first time. The first time, now that I think of it, was when I penned an essay in the family section of the local newspaper about a courtesy problem that we were having with one of our children. In the article I called him, Beavis. A few years later, said child was Googling for fun and found the article online. Suffice is to say, he was not pleased. He made me promise never to write about him in such a manner again. I agreed, and have kept my word. Today, however, I'll be writing about my grandchildren. Remy is almost seven, and I wouldn't put it past her to find this on my blog and proceed to yell at me. Rory, however, is only three. I imagine it will be quite a few years before I have to face the music from her.

The sheltering in place and social distancing we are all experiencing now has altered life in many ways. One of which is the frequency of video chats and phone calls that are taking place. Remy began a video chat with me yesterday, the promptly put me on hold when her Aunt Sommer dialed in. After ten minutes I hung up. Enough was enough. A little while later, Sommer called me. A few seconds after we connected, Remy dialed in, wanting to continue our video call. Are you kidding, I thought. I told her I'd call back. When I called back, no one was answering the phone. I called Kenton, my son-in-law's phone, and overheard Laura say that she wasn't answering (Remy had been using her phone), because she was cleaning number one from the bedroom floor. Rory has been reluctantly potty training for months. We knew she was ready when she began to disappear every time before number two was imminent. In the months before the quarantine I almost lost my mind looking for her, only to find her behind curtains, under the kitchen table, and once, during a party, locked in my bedroom closet. We practically had to break the door down to get her out. Now that her training has begun in earnest, accidents from Rory and Lola, the family's aging pitbull have become common in the house. With everyone cooped up together all day, the annoyance of the mishaps has been magnified. Completing my conversation with Remy, I put down the phone. I realized she hadn't hung up when I heard frantic commotion coming through the speaker. "Where is the poop? I can tell you made one. Where is it?" Rory was denying it. Kenton though that maybe the dog had gotten ahold of it. The household was in an uproar searching. I'm not ashamed to say I hung up the call laughing. Having raised three kids, I've gone through more than my fair share of crap. Literally and figuratively. At no time, however, did I have to tear up the house looking for it.


My karmic payback for laughing arrived this morning, during a text session with Laura. After catching up on our news, I texted her that I Zelle'd her 35 dollars for the groceries she had purchased for me. A few minutes later, she responded. "Can I have ten dollars?" That's strange, I thought. But maybe not. With Kenton laid off and Laura furloughed, she was being more budget conscious than ever. Maybe she wanted a small treat for someone, but didn't want to mess up her budget. Sure, I texted back. I just Zelle'd it to you. "Noo.," came the response. "O.k." How else am I going to get it to you, I texted back. A little while later Laura called laughing. "We have another virus story. That was Remy, not me." Duh. Of course, I should have realized it. "What did you want the ten dollars for", I asked Remy. "A blinger." A blinger, for you Boomers who aren't woke, is like a bedazzler that you can use on hair. It is "the new glam styling tool that allows you to load, click, bling anything...the adhesive works with all hair types and sticks to most materials." That from the Blinger manufacturer. I wondered why Laura had forbidden me to buy Remy one. Oh, the places she would bling. In the absence of a blinger I prepared the frazzled family a tea party to go. Along with minature tea pots and whimsical plates from when Laura was little, I added some tea and cookies.


I call these cupboard cookies, because they were thrown together from things I had on hand. The recipe in an adaptation from one that the writer Diana Abu Jaber posted to her Facebook page at the beginning of the quarantine. Though Remy was not a fan of the bananas in the cookies, Prince Charming gave them his stamp of approval. That and a kiss for Princess Rory.





Cupboard Cookies


3/4 cup white sugar 1/4 cup packed brown sugar 1 teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon baking soda 3 tablespoons hot chocolate mix 2 cups flour 6 tablespoons of melted butter 1 egg 1 teaspoon butter flavoring 1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar 2 overripe bananas, mashed Scant handful semi sweet mini chocolate chips 1/4 cup peanut butter chips Preheat oven to 350° Combine and wisk sugars, salt, baking soda, hot chocolate mix and flour. Add remaining ingredients and mix. Spoon cookies onto a parchment or silicone lined cookie sheet. Bake for about 12 minutes, or until edges are beginning to brown. These are soft, fluffy cookies that remind me of a muffin top. Recipe makes about two dozen. More if you're making miniatures for a tea party.



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The Big Easy Cook

@2020 by Tracey Broussard