PatchWork
by
Joyce Whitis

If I hadn't been deep into the business of entertaining grandchildren I probably would never have had a twelve foot tall giraffe stick his entire head in my car window. If I hadn't been so wrapped up in the spirit of adventure that follows entertaining grandchildren, I most likely would not have let him lip up small cottonseed cake from my hand. Every trip to Fossil Rim is real adventure and the one this past week was the best of all. Taking the grandkids is as good excuse as any for going, so early one morning we loaded up and headed out down 67.

Everything about this little one day vacation is great. The drive down is just long enough to get some distance from the house and short enough to require no rest stops. Folks are friendly, the place is attractive and the best part, the reason for coming in the first place, is the animals are always standing beside the road waiting for you. It's a great way to spend the better part of a summer day.

Oh yes, on this trip, we had something else, or someONE else, I should say.

Whitney was visiting this week and she brought along Rexie, her latest "friend".

Explaining about Rexie takes more explaining than I am probably capable of, but I'll take a shot at it. Rexie lives inside a Tami-Gouchi ( That's ,contented egg, in Chinese. At least I think it is Chinese. It says on the back of the thing that it was made in China so that's why I think it is Chinese although I saw something on TV about this toy being all the rage in Japan so maybe it's Japanese although I would think that if something was made in China it would be Chinese, but maybe not!)

Anyhow Rexie or Tami-Gouchi is small enough to wear on a chain around your neck or swinging from the rear-view mirror as you motor on down the road.

The main thing about this little guy is that you have to take care of him or else he will die. Of course he will die eventually anyway or turn into an angel and fly away like the other one did. When Whitney came back from the mall, he was just sitting there, his name was Moxie, and there were stars bursting and Roman Candles going off and while she was looking through the little window at this show, he sprouted wings and flew away, looked sort of like a duck right there at the last.

Taking care of a contented egg means feeding on demand, a snack or a meal, playing games with him to make him happy, flushing when necessary, giving medication when he gets sick, and watching him grow. It all begins when the egg hatches and the time and date is set. At first the little guy sleeps a lot but as he gets older, he sleeps less.

When Whitney came to visit, Rexie had just been hatched and looked sort of like the PAC man of old Atari games. When we came back from church on Sunday, he had grown two stick arms and two chubby legs that kept moving at a fast trot.

I stared at the tiny guy inside the white plastic egg and there was certainly a smile on his round face. Pushing all the little black buttons, he began to make a face like he was about to blow up, but with a lot of frantic action on my part, he calmed down and took on his usual smile. The short little legs continued at a fast trot.

At 8:00 the screen in the egg went dark and Z's drifted off across the face so we knew he was asleep.

During the week, I kept hoping Rexie would die so I could see what he was in those final moments but all he did was eat, play, get sick, get bored, make a fuss about being cleaned up after, and sleep. In short he behaved like all the rest of the grandkids and required a lot of time and care, hopefully teaching responsibility to somebody.

Along toward the middle of the week while telling the kids all about the Family Fun Fair in the park and who would be in the parade, I mentioned that Bush would be in Granbury for their celebration.

Whitney's eyes opened to their widest and she shouted, "Bush! Oh I want to go over there!"

"I didn't know that you cared so much about the Governor."

"Oh, THAT Bush. I thought you meant the Band. I'll just stay in Stephenville!"

It was a fun week but required a day of rest afterward.


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