Phyllis Stein - Secret Lumber Jack

On the last Thursday of each month for the past twenty years I have enjoyed card club at the home of Ann Tewksbury Davidson down in Hunting Valley. Twelve of us girls get together, draw lots and are assigned tables.  Then, one of the girls (there are twelve women, and twelve months - thus affording each of us the chance to select for a given month) selects a game and it is announced.  That is what we play for the afternoon. 

This is our tradition, and it has worked perfectly well for twenty years.

Well, yesterday, all was going to plan until who should arrive unannounced at Ann's door but none other than Phyllis Stein. For those of you who do not know Mrs. Stein, she is the former wife of Maurice Stein, the parking lot magnet of Cleveland, and she is such crashing bore; she talks non stop.  Did I mention she also has terrible taste?  And wreaked of My Sin!

Mrs. Phyllis Stein; After bathing in a vat of bronzer

Well, what was Ann to do?  With a house full of friends, she couldn't turn her away, so she did the noble thing and invited her in and gave Phyllis her seat at the card table.  Phyllis put up a small and unconvincing front of not wanting to interrupt.  In turn we all put up a small and pithy front that we were glad to see her and how much fun this would be.

Bully.

The game chosen was Canasta, and the variant was a game called Hand & Foot.  Poor Ann, she spent the afternoon walking among the girls and attended to their needs, emptying ash trays, refreshing drinks and serving coffee, because this what one does when one has unexpected guests who are too dim witted to call ahead to see if a visit would be nice.  

I had the unfortunate pleasure of being seated at the same table as Phyllis Stein and her outfit gave me a headache.  Of course we were dressed appropriately - skirt suits and pant suit sets.  But not Phyllis Stein. She looked as if she had left her trailer in a hurry because there was a sale at WalMart.

Worse yet, Ms. Stein, in my son Bruce's words, "Never got the fashion memo that a little leopard goes a long way." But yesterday, festooned with slave bracelets, metal beads, bangles and charms every time she moved she created a terribly distracting racket.  Poor Barbara Sims Miller misplayed a seven of diamonds and lost out on an easy meld of 300!

As we finished the second game on the way to the rubber match, Phyllis excused herself to use the powder room and I caught a whiff of stale urine.  Barbara looked down onto the seat of the card table chair and saw it was was wet.

"Great!" said Barbara, "Now she leaks!"

What was I to do?  Thankfully Ann's card table chairs are covered in durable Naugahyde so we did nothing.  Why embarrass Phyllis Stein any more than she had embarrassed herself?

I did reach into my Coach bag and pull out a bottle of  hand sanitizer and share it with the girls.

As the afternoon drew to a close, I had to take Phyllis aside as she emerged from the powder room, and walk her to her car.  Otherwise, she never would have left the house.  Said she "This was fun, let's do it again."

"See you when Canasta Season begins anew" I replied, and off she went.

I, of course went back in the house to see if there was anything I could do to help Ann and she thanked me and we chatted.  As I readied to leave her grandson Thornton, who is 14, walked in from school and he asked "Who was the lumberjack at the party?"  Both Ann and I looked quizzically at each other.  When she pressed for answer he acted as if we knew what he meant.  Ann asked him what was he was getting at.

"Someone left a log in the water."  We shook our heads.

"Someone dropped a friend off at the pool," he said.

"There is a lumberjack in the pool? Ann looked out to the pool behind her house.

"Gram, one of those ladies didn't flush!" he exclaimed.  "Gross."

Indeed. As she and I approached the powder room that Phyllis had used just before she left we found - there in the water -a filthy damning piece of evidence -her BM.  Yes, you heard me correctly - Phyllis Stein left her fecal matter in the toilet!


Next month, cards will be held at an undisclosed location in an attempt to thwart another unscheduled visit by Phyllis Stein, and filthy gifts. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

I remain,

Mrs. Edwin Smith-Standish