Dame Edna Charm School Class of '08

By Kathleen Daelemans

My father is recently retired. Before that, he hadn't touched a tool in fifty years. Before that, he never successfully completed a home repair job. Now all of a sudden he thinks he should be a master plumber, a furniture maker, a master mechanic and an electrician.

At night when she should be sleeping, my mother creates lengthy to-do lists for him. “It keeps him out of trouble”. My father never had any intention of ever retiring. He loves to work. He was a real rocket scientist. And when he retired from a 25 year career of doing whatever it is rocket scientists do, he took on another career and then another.

The Magical Blinking Dishwasher

In all, he’s retired from three careers in the time most people work and retire from one. He loves to work. "He loves to drive me crazy is what he loves to do, Kathleen. Write that down." My Mom asked my Dad to hook up a new phone. What should have been a simple job has turned into the equivalent of installing a new master bath with Playschool helpers.

My father doesn’t ask for directions. And he doesn’t read instructions. He’s cobbled his way through home repairs for 35 years and we’ve got the magical blinking dishwasher to prove it. The phone project started out okay. All the cellophane wrapping came off the box in one pull. Everything went downhill from there.

Suddenly, all the wiring between the kitchen and the hallway had to be pulled out and redone, "Those idiot contractors wired this whole house backwards.” By his account, every socket, wall plug and light fixture was installed by an electrical engineering school escapee and the house was in imminent danger of burning down at any second. FYI, my parents have lived in the house for 35 years and there’s never been anything wrong with the wiring.

Chef Ralph Lauren

My mother and I have a sewing date every Wednesday. Unfortunately our workspace is in the kitchen where the new phone installation was taking place (or not taking place). So far, I’ve made two skirts and I’m almost done with an adorable mini dress to wear with my new, lacy footless tights. I told you I’d figure out a way to wear footless tights this season.

I’m practicing for Project Runway. No doubt Heidi will see me on the Today show some morning in one of my gorgeous girl creations. She’ll be on the phone with Meredith faster than you can say Café Latte asking all about the clothes on my back and making all kinds of orders no doubt. 

The next thing you know, I’ll be smack in the middle of the first cooking show slash reality show, in an absolute panic, designing Heidi’s next Emmy dress (think Project Jay).  In case you've been living in a non-civilized world void of electricity (therefor working televisions), Project Jay is a one hour special that follows season one Project Runway winner, Jay McCarroll as he sets up his new life in New York City. The special features Heidi (Klum, possums, Heidi Klum) calling up Jay and ordering a dress for the Emmy's with the nonchalance of a shut-in ordering QVC item HD-23756 The Felt Teddy Bears, Pack of 6, on flex pay. Heidi hangs up, Jay nearly cracks up and then fun begins! Life as you know it is over until the credits roll.

Project Brownie Pan

My mother will be the rational one doing all the sewing. I’ll be the wide-eyed hysterical woman with under eye bags baking batches and batches of brownies under the ruse of trying to discover the world’s best brownie recipe.

Our sewing date was going swimmingly until my father realized it wasn’t all about him. He doesn’t like it when he’s not the center of attention. And he can’t stand it when he doesn’t have an audience. We tried to sew and pretend we were concerned about the trouble he was having and we even offered him genuine support every other fifth paragraph. But when he began to choreograph his diatribe with flying electrical tools, my Mom and I decided it was time to invent errands to run.

It was cold outside. My Mom put on her coat and I threw on my fabulous new, black mohair, poncho. Admittedly, my gorgeous-girl poncho makes me feel very, well, very much like a woman who loves couture, wearing the closest thing she’ll ever own to couture. The poncho was purchased in a store near couture at the Galleries Lafayette at 40 Boulevard Haussmann, 75009 Paris.

There's Nothing Like the Rush of a Good Buy at a Great Tag Sale

I didn’t buy my scrumptious, coveted, don’t-touch-it, I heart you poncho in Paris. I got it at a garage sale in a very swanky neighborhood near my home, for ten bucks. La la la! Ten bucks. Straight from the dry cleaner with the tag still on it. Martha can you hear me?

Sure, Martha can afford anything she wants including a private plane to Paris, a suite at the Ritz, a car and driver and ponchos for all her pals, but Martha can appreciate a good deal and I think she’d be proud. Are you proud Martha? I think Martha is proud. I’m proud. Everyone one loves my new poncho. Everyone.

“I hope you’re not talking about that Orson Wells looking cape, Kathleen.” My Mother doesn’t care for my new fabulous poncho. It’s a clear case of jealousy. It’s Fancy Nancy totally delicious and she’s just mad she didn’t find it first.

We got to the post office in record time. The post flying-electrical-tool stress disorder slash adrenaline rush hadn't worn off. Normally we like to drive five miles under the speed limit. My mom's practicing her Miss Daisy act. We parked in front of the post office and could see through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the place was packed. But we didn’t care because we weren’t in a hurry. I would have been right behind my Mom if disaster hadn’t struck.

Dame Edna Charm School Class of '08

I like to make Dame Edna style grand entrances wherever I go. As I stepped out of the car onto the pavement, I gathered up the long billowy folds of soft mohair and threw them over my left shoulder. It was a sunny fall day but the air was brisk. I adjusted my sunglasses, pursed my pink glossed lips together, gathered my leather gloves, and quilted soft leather bag and started to make my way towards my mother. I was yanked back towards my car faster than an out of key singer being yanked off the Apollo stage.

My gorgeous girl, black mohair, almost couture, Fancy Nancy, Paris Department store, totally scrumptious poncho was stuck in the door of my car. Make that jammed in the door of my car. My coat was half on my and half in the car. My entrance was ruined.

I couldn’t stop laughing. I laughed so hard I cried my mascara down to my knee highs. “You laughed like an idiot and all those people in the post office were laughing at you is who was laughing, Kathleen.”

My Mother had no idea why I was bent over the car door handle. First she thought I was crying. Then she thought I was nuts. She wouldn’t come near me.

“What are you doing?”
“My coat is stuck”
“Your coat is stuck?”
“My coat is stuck.”
“Well try the keys”
“I tried the keys”
“Try them again”
“I tried them again”
“Can’t you unlock the car”
“No. I’m going to have to call On-star to come get me out of my coat. Hello, on-star?”
“This is on-star. What is your emergency?”
“I’m stuck in my coat at the post-office.”
“You’re stuck in your coat?”
“It’s not a coat, it’s my favorite poncho.”
“You’re stuck in your poncho, mam? Is this a prank call?”

A kind man came over and asked if I needed help. Through hysterical laughing, crying, sloppy mascara tears, I nodded yes. While he threw his 250 pounds of pure muscles into the job of freeing my Fancy Nancy poncho, I pictured fire engines and on-star trucks rolling into the post-office parking lot filled with handsome men, eager to save the beautiful princess and the ten-dollar poncho.

After pulling and tugging with all his might, the big stron man put one foot on the side of my car to steady himself and pulled as hard as he could. Shazam! Gorgeous Girl was free! The people inside the post office erupted in a round of applause. The man looked as proud as if he’d delivered my first child. I thanked him profusely. At last, I was reunited with the second half of my beautiful new poncho. All was well in the world once again.

I did make a grand entrance after all. Just not how I’d envisioned it. But as Dame Edna wisely advises, “If you can't laugh at yourself, you could be missing the joke of the century."

Comments

[avaya partner installation]

such a great post!

[Melstruck]

Ok, I'm late reading this, but it cracked me up. Laughing at yourself is the best!!!

[amy]

I laughed so hard I think I peed my pants! Thanks for the laugh. I needed it today.

[MaryJo]

So, could your dad come to my house?? My oven has decided that it will go on and off whenever it likes. Sometimes I walk by it and it is on and very hot. Anyway, I obviously had to shut the breaker and have someone come look at it. It is estimated to cost $920 to fix. It is a double wall oven and thanks to computers, the entire thing works off of one computer. OY, and here it is just days before Thanksgiving. I don't think my turkey will fit in the toaster oven! Looks like we are going to visit famly now! So, I am saying that I could take your dad off your hands for a while, he might enjoy Florida and want to retire here!

[Sheri]

I don't think I knew that you were into sewing, Kathleen! I'm hoping to get back into sewing and to design more of my own stuff once I retire next summer!

P.S. I love Dame Edna!