High on the Vine (eBook)

How It All Started

Tami and Evi found themselves seeking warmth from the woodstove in Tami’s living room, or as Tami called it, the parlor. Having not completely adjusted to life in Upper Michigan, Tami still clung to the notion that manners and social graces accounted for something, and to her a parlor is where one received and entertained visitors. Evi was visiting so therefore, the erstwhile living room was a parlor. Furthermore, Tami and Evi Maki, cousins thrice removed, were at tea such as one might be invited to if in England. Interestingly, there was no tea present, but rather a fresh box of white wine, which Tami and Evi frequently pressed into service via the handy spigot located front and center. But for purposes of public information (i.e. gossip), the ladies were having tea.

“These little sandwich things are to die for,” said Evi as she popped a third one into her mouth. Tami had made some tea sandwiches with miniature squares of cocktail bread, cream cheese, smoked salmon and cucumber slices garnished with a little sprig of dill. These went down well with their emblematic tea.

“Thank you, Evi, I found it in my Living High on Tea book, along with my scone recipe.”

“I love your scones, too,” said Tami as she eyed the plate of crust-less sandwiches, looking for her next victim. “I wonder what the boys are having for their lunch,” she said, as she used a freshly-ironed linen napkin to dab a dribble of wine from her chin.

Tami snorted and shook her head in disgust. The ladies’ spouses, Toivo and Eino, were likely engaged in their own emblematic tea somewhere in the woods at the Maki hunting camp. Instead of a tidy parlor with doilies on the armchairs, they preferred a sagging couch that likely harbored enough microbes to destroy the world. Napkins would be absent as would any other tools of civility, such as proper silverware and dishes. Toivo and Eino loathed washing dishes and preferred using their hands as eating utensils. They weren’t great about washing their hands either, for that matter. Mostly they used their Leatherman tools (unwashed) as eating utensils and wiped them “clean” on their pant legs (also unwashed except when their wives could confiscate them along with their ratty flannel shirts to throw into the laundry).

Tami took a dainty sip of wine, contemplating the bane of her existence: Toivo, and how she had been, if not tricked, at least misled into marrying the clod. Toivo often had similar thoughts about Tami, though he dared not think of her as the pain in the (bleep) she was, since she always seemed to know what he was thinking or doing. Tami always knew what Toivo was up to (rarely work that involved a paycheck) because he was so predictable.

“He’s got terrible eating habits,” said Tami, just as Evi was poised to consume yet another tea sandwich. “Likely he’s eating some fat-laden, sodium-rich junk food—something that doesn’t require a fork.”

Evi held the tea sandwich inside her mouth without chewing for a moment; she felt as if Tami were studying her. Unfortunately, the bread began to dissolve on her tongue, making it difficult to talk. Eventually she managed to get it down by taking a generous slug of wine.

“As much as I complain, I do care about the lout,” Tami said. “I don’t want him to keel over before his time. He’s never been able to get disability, since sloth-itis is not considered a valid medical condition, so we have to wait for regular Social Security. I, of course, have my small pension from the government. I gave up my career at the post office in Blemishville to move up to this place. God’s Country, my foot! More like God-forsaken,” Tami said.

“I thought you said the post office closed because of budget cuts,” Evi said. There were still six tiny sandwiches on the delicate cut-glass plate. Would it be rude to eat them or leave them? Evi was not as cultured as Tami and didn’t know the protocol with such things. She knew it was rude to take, say, the last one, but there were several. Her wine was gone too.

Tami sighed. “True, it did close, but because of my stellar work record, I was guaranteed a transfer—maybe someplace warm like Nashville or Atlanta. There were no transfers available up here. Oh, I wonder how my life would have been if not for that double date we had for Slick and Sally’s wedding—remember?”

Evi nodded. How could she forget? It was indeed a fateful night. Toivo and Eino were both cousins and uncles to one another and related to the groom as cousins several times removed. They had made a special trip down below the bridge to attend their cousin, Slick’s wedding and likely to take advantage of the free booze. The bride (and soon-to-be mother), Sally, was a mutual friend of Tami and Evi’s from a water aerobics class they all had taken at the fitness center. Sally, matchmaker that she was, fixed Tami and Evi up with Toivo and Eino for purposes of wedding escorts. The boys had cleaned up pretty well and neither Tami nor Evi were getting any younger. Tami, out of vanity, did not wear her glasses, which normally dangled on a decorative chain round her neck, so Toivo’s image was somewhat fuzzy and rather hunky. Evi spent too much time at the punch bowl, which was spiked. While doing the funky chicken to a rag-tag band called the Pizzlesticks, Tami and Evi got caught up in the festivities and before they knew it, found themselves somehow enamored with a couple of backwoods reprobates who decided they needed women in their lives to do the cooking and cleaning and whatnot. Before Tami could wipe the fog off her glasses and Evi could sober up, a quick double ceremony took place and Tami and Evi found themselves living in remorse in the back woods of Nowheresville.

“I think the first thing is to cut out meat,” said Tami.

“Huh,” said Evi, snatched back from her reverie of Slick and Sally’s wedding reception. And the party after the reception. The full moon, stars in the sky. The bed of Eino’s pickup. Her angry daddy. Mama crying…

“Of course, the boys like to think they are putting meat on the table with all their hunting prowess, but truth be told, Toivo hasn’t gotten a deer or even a squirrel for that matter since we’ve been married,” Tami said.

“Well, Eino did get a racoon last spring when it was coming out of hibernation, but it was with his truck not his gun,” Evi said. “It was too flattened to salvage any meat but he did use the fur to make a coonskin hat.”

“Not much better with fishing either,” Tami said. “Though he sure has enough invested in gear. We should have a freezer full of fish.”

“Eino got a turtle a while back. It was a snapper. They are good eating, but I refuse to clean something like that. Besides it escaped before Eino could figure out how to dispatch it. Even spit out the hook, neat as can be with the worm still attached. The worm was a little worse for wear.”

Tami shuddered a bit. “Yes, meat must go. Also, dairy. The time to eat healthy is when we are still, well, fairly young. We’ll be glad we did when we get in our golden years.”

Evi looked at the tea sandwich that had somehow made its way between her thumb and forefinger. “Is cream cheese dairy?”

“I’m afraid so,” Tami said.

“What about the salmon?” Evi said, rather mournfully. She had developed a real liking to the smoked salmon that Tami procured from the fish market.

“A true vegan does not consume products from or eat anything that walks, crawls, swims, hops or flies,” Tami responded.

“Vegan? What’s a vegan?” Evi asked. Is that one of those cults?

Tami ignored her. “Nope, no meat, fish, seafood, cheese, milk, ice cream...”

“No ice cream!” shrieked Evi. “I love Mackinac Island Fudge. I must have it...”

“Too much fat in the dairy. And all those chemicals they use to make the animals grow up faster and fatter.”

“But fish?” Evi said, still hoping for a smoked salmon exemption.

“Well, do you really want something that swims around in a lake polluted with its own excrement?” Tami responded.

“But I swim around in the lake all the time,” Evi said. She had never really thought about all the fish poop in there.

“Yes, think about it. I prefer a nice pool where I can see the bottom.”

“But there are chemicals in the pool!” Evi said, enjoying a small victory for her side.

“True,” Tami said. “But no excrement.”

“Oh really? What do you think those children do during family swim night?” Evi said ever so smugly.

“That’s what the chemicals are for,” Tami snapped.

“Maybe they should raise fish in swimming pools,” Evi said.

Tami ignored her. Sometimes Evi came up with the most ridiculous ideas. Still, it did seem that something that was being constantly washed, albeit not always in pristine water, might be better than say a rutabaga. After all, didn’t vegetables grow in the dirt? Just exactly what was dirt, anyway? Ground up rock, pollution, contamination, toxins, and of course...