The alien has landed ... again

I had my tonsils out in the sixties. (That's the 1960s, not when I was in my 60s!) I remember only three things about the experience:

1. The book read to me to prepare me for the hospital visit. I recall there being brightly colored pictures of a little boy who's hospital gown didn't stay closed very well and nurses in white uniforms with the matching hats they wore back in the day. I search for that book every time I vist a used-book or antique store. I'm determined to one day find it.

2. Jello being served to me in the hospital bed afterwards.

3. Quisp. The character from the cereal. Somehow Quisp figures into my tonsil-removal experience. I think I received the stuffed Quisp doll from someone ... or maybe a lucky child in the bed next to me received the quirky alien ... or maybe I've imagined the entire thing. Imagined or not, the Quisp doll and tonsils go hand-in-hand in my mind.

(Let me stop here and say that if you are one of the young-uns who don't know what the cuss Quisp is, you can catch up by reading all about the cereal, the character and the battle with Quest right HERE.)

So last weekend, Brianna and I were out shopping for butt-toning shoes for my walks, along with a few other things. I bought my shoes, she bought two pair (not butt-toning ones) and we moved on to Target.

No, I do not fill my ceral bowl this full. Illustrative purposes only.We're toodling toward the kitchen gadgets -- or whatever the heck it was we were there to get -- and what do I happen upon but an end cap stocked to the brim with, you guessed it ... no, not Jello ... but QUISP cereal!

The quirky little pink alien smiled from the blue box, just like I remembered from 40 years ago, beckoning me to the shelf. My eyes widened, my heart leapt and phantom pains from long-gone tonsils squelched squeals of delight. So I didn't squeal, but I did smile wide, pick up a box and share my Quisp story -- or my imagined Quisp story -- with Brianna.

I also bought a box. How could I resist?

When I got home, Jim, too, squealed upon seeing Quisp. Okay, he didn't really squeal, but he was just as excited to see the little guy as I was. Which surprised me because he certainly didn't know me when I had my tonsils out and never had the good fortune of seeing my Quisp doll. And he definitely is not a fan of cereal (I've never seen him eat a bowl of cereal in our entire lives together).

"Now that's a cereal I could handle," he said. "Dry, of course." (His aversion to cold cereal has something to do with milk, I've been told. Never, ever will he eat cold cereal with milk. Dry, apparently, is another story. Especially if it's Quisp, even more so apparent.)

So I happily placed the alien cereal in the cabinet, looking forward to having a bowl or two during the week. Which I did yesterday. And it was everything I remembered: little flying saucers that hold smidgens of milk ... and float in the milk as the saucers become few. A sweet, crunchy taste much like Cap'n Crunch -- without the damaging-to-the-roof-of-the-mouth crunchiness of Cap'n Crunch. Soggy saucers if if not eaten quickly enough. And the nausea that comes soon after swallowing the last bite.

Nausea? Yeah, the stuff always made me sick to my stomach for some reason. But I loved it so much -- call it successful marketing, maybe -- that I ate it regardless of the nausea, regardless of how I'd feel afterwards.

Also regardless of the nausea: I plan to buy two more boxes of Quisp before it disappears from Target. Not because of the taste -- nausea's not as easy to ignore as it used to be -- but because <insert drum roll here> with just three proofs of purchase and $4.95 for shipping and handling, I can receive by mail an authentic Quisp T-shirt!

I am so ordering it! And I plan to forevermore proudly wear my Quisp T-shirt as I peruse used-book stores and antique shops in my hunt for the out-of-print picture book featuring a little boy's hiney peeking from his hospital gown as he visited the hospital for his very first medical procedure. A little boy who wasn't as fortunate as I to receive a Quisp doll during his visit. Or to even imagine receiving a Quisp doll, as my case very well may be.

Today's question:

What do you remember about your very first hospital visit (well, first other than being born)?

A dog by any other name

As part of the From Left To Write book club, I recently read Cowboy & Wills by Monica Holloway, provided for free through the book club. It's the true story of young autistic boy, Wills, and the golden retriever, Cowboy, that transformed his life. Written by Wills' mother, the book is an unflinchingly honest look at parenting an extraordinary child and the efforts taken to help him lead as ordinary a life as possible. Wills' saving grace turned out to be Cowboy.

Early in the book, Holloway writes of how Wills names his soon-to-be-adopted puppy -- a puppy that would decidedly be female -- "Cowboy" after a quick run-through of ideas with Mom. His first choice (for a female puppy, mind you) was Vincent, of which Holloway writes: "'Vincent is good,' I said, hoping we'd come up with something more upbeat and less like the conniving killer with the bone-chilling laugh in The House of Wax." So she offered up "Ringo." Wills countered with "Cowboy" (from his bedtime song of Cowboys Sing Good Night). "And it's okay that Cowboy's a girl?" Holloway asked him. "Who cares?" was his response. Simple as that, Wills' puppy became Cowboy.

ShannonIt reminded me of Andrea -- the biggest animal-lover in our family -- and her penchant for giving animals unusual names, starting with the naming of her first cat at about the same age Wills named his first puppy.

For many years, our only family animal was a beautiful blue-point Siamese I named Sadie. I can't remember why I chose that name, and I don't recall there being any huge significance to it. The name just sounded good, it fit, it stuck.

Then for animal-loving Andrea's fourth birthday, she was given the kitty she'd begged and pleaded for after seeing it during a July 4 party hosted by a friend of mine. (I'll never cop to a few drinks being the reason I gave in to her requests.)

MickeyFor Andrea, her new itsy-bitsy gray-and-white kitty's name did have huge significance. So she named it Shannon. After one of Brianna's friends. The loveliest of older girls, with long blonde hair, an infectious laugh and a perpetually sunny disposition. All the boys at school pined for her; Andrea idolized her. So she named her cat after her. Which was perfectly fine -- except that Shannon regularly got out of the house and I had to try to lure her back in. Calling out the door or roaming the block calling "Shannon ... Shannon ..." surely sounded like I was the worst of the worst mothers ever, nonchalantly searching for a lost child who'd wandered away.

Soon after, we got Moses, a black lab/collie mix and our first family dog. I gave him that name in hopes he'd live up to it and follow our commandments. Then my sweet Sadie passed away at 19 years old and was (eventually) replaced by tabby Abby. Then, soon after Andrea went off to college, her precious Shannon passed away and was replaced (for me and Abby, not Andrea) with crazy Isabel, a Halloween cat if ever there was one.

KamileahAndrea had no say-so in naming that batch of animals. But when we unexpectedly rescued a sweet 8-week-old pit/pointer mix who'd had both back legs broken by his previous owner, we offered for Andrea name him so that although she was away at college, she'd feel some ownership of the newest family pet. The puppy was white with caramel-colored spots and made Andrea think of her favorite thing in the world at that time: Caramel Macchiatos from Starbucks. She wanted to call the puppy Caramel Macchiato -- but I couldn't go that far in allowing her free reign on the naming. We settled on Mickey. Good enough, she agreed, huffing adding that she'll just name her own animal Caramel Macchiato when she gets one.

LylaAnd her first animal did, indeed, have the same coloring as our Mickey. But she chose to name the calico cat Kamileah, which means "perfection" in Egyptian, Andrea says, and was chosen after much Googling and searching for the absolute perfect name for her very own pet.

LukeHer next very own pet, a rescue dog of black lab/shepherd descent, she named Lyla. Because in Persian it means "dark as night." And Lyla she remains -- although she's been adopted by Grandma and Grandpa (meaning me and Jim) after apartment living didn't suit her style ... and her overactive bladder, constant chewing, and hyper disposition didn't suit Andrea's patience.

It was only with her most recent pet acquisition that Andrea settled on something a little more "normal." A few months ago she purchased the cutest little fluffball of a dog ever, a Zuchon, and she named him Luke. Of course, unlike her mother who names animals just whatever sounds good, she crowned the puppy Luke because he looks like an Ewok from Star Wars, but calling him Ewok would have been a little bizarre, she thought. So she named him Luke ... after Luke Skywalker.

And it was that reasoning, that relatively normal name for a pet -- coming from a young adult who not so long ago thought Caramel Macchiato was an acceptable name for a puppy -- that led me to the most bittersweet of realizations: My animal-loving little girl, the last of my three babies, had truly grown up.

Today's question:

What's the strangest name of one of your past or present pets?

Another week, another grilled grandma!

Can you believe it's already September? SEPTEMBER? Well, our featured Grilled Grandma for the first of September (aack!) is Dian, and I gotta say, this grandma is the ultimate coupon maven if ever there was one. You can find out why I say that on her website, Grocery Shop For Free.

It's here, though, on Grandma's Briefs, that you can find out why I say Dian is not only a coupon queen, but the ultimate Nana as well. By reading Grilled Grandma: Dian, you'll find out:

1. What Dian's daughter thinks Dian has trouble keeping to herself.

2. Why Dian (unfortunately) no longer gets to see her grandchildren every day.

3. The story of "Daddy jealousy," featuring Dian's granddaughter.

You'll also get to see some of the cutest little kiddos ever (a preview of which is above -- see what I mean!?)!

Once you're done reading Grilled Grandma: Dian, I'd love to hear from you with names of grandmas you would like to see featured as a Grilled Grandma. Whether you nominate yourself, a friend, or a family member, there's more than enough room on the schedule to fit in one and all. All you have to do is send me a first name and e-mail address, and I'll take care of the rest. I promise you this: The grilling won't hurt a bit!

Today's question:

Dian's blog is full of great deals and coupon options. How often do you use coupons when grocery shopping?