Both popular and tall

Today is the first day of spring, I think, and it started off raining here and wound up snowing. My dad and I basically spent all day preparing dinner, since we have nothing better to do up here. My grandma drew us a funny map with only two lines on it and an "X" marking fish. "That's the fish market in Bucksport," she explained, "it's over the river."

So we drove out there and got clarifying directions at the book store and wound up in the front yard of a trailer marked "Scallops Shrimp + Haddock". On the inside was one refrigerator full of haddock and giant three plastic trash cans full of shrimp, so we bought the haddock.

We wanted to make a pie for dinner, but when my grandma heard, she didn't quite understand our plan to cook everything for her, so she made the pie instead. Also, she informed my dad, we wouldn't know how to make it right. She does do things differently, like not using butter and measuring crisco by dropping it into water like icebergs. I made lentil soup from Soup Night two weeks ago and the little pita chips Dayna taught me how to make. My grandmother insisted we set the pie to cool out on the front porch.

Finally we all sat down to dinner and my grandpa lit the candles and poured the wine. We four are the four most silent people in my family, so we sat at the table mostly being quiet and talking about the soup. Then, all of a sudden, a fireman in full gear burst through the front door.

"Your gas alarm has gone off! Get out of the house while we test the place for gas!" he yelled. My grandpa got up and told him he was being silly, the house most certainly wasn't filling with gas, but the fireman was insistent the way men with axes are, so we all soon got up except for my grandmother whose hearing aid had gone out and had no idea what was going on.

We stood on the front porch and soon enough the fire truck roared up, sirens blazing through the snow. The whole crew jumped out and rushed inside. The guys on the porch with us confessed this was the only call they'd had all week, being only the fire department of this little Maine town. They got all excited about taking out their gas recording gear and radioing back to headquarters that everything was fine - false alarm.

Then they let us back inside and, obviously not wanting to go back to the station, stood around instructing us how to use the smoke alarm. "When it blinks, that means it's working," one of them explained. So there we stood, four of us Mirks and three burly firemen, looking up at the living room ceiling waiting for the fire alarm to blink. It took a long thirty seconds or so, we all let out a little "aha!" and then my grandma offered them pita chips.

"These won't ruin your appeteite!" she said. "Thanks!" said one of the firemen, "I'll have to find false alarms more often! I'll remember you - I never forget a pretty face."


I picked the lock on my grandmother's diary from 1947 after everyone went to bed last night. This wasn't the most ethical thing to do, but I am a snoop. The diary is hilarious and boy crazy. My favorite bit is that the telegram announcing her birth is taped in on one page. It reads, "Phillida Campbell Bond born at nine oclock perfect little tike full of ginger lots of black hair Lois got thru beautifully in less than two hours and is feeling fine greatly pleased with dr smith and the nitrous oxide hope you like granddaughters."

and, her writting at age 15 in 1942, "I can’t figure out why I’m not popular. I don’t think I have b.o. or haliotosis or anything. Of course, I am awfully tall, but I don’t think that has anything to do with it. Look at – well gosh – I don’t know anyone who is both popular and tall."