THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, February 19, 1995 TAG: 9502170179
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 03 EDITION: FINAL
LENGTH: Long : 148 lines
Monday, Feb. 6
3:30 p.m. - Cape Henry Collegiate School.
Robert Veto, upper school director, sends a message to faculty by way of computer mail, informing everyone he's the ``Dr. of Everything.''
``This exchange just occurred in my office (really),'' he writes.
``Hey, Dr. Veto, my mom's out of town and left me some baked ziti, frozen. If I cook it tonight, can I re-freeze it afterward?''
``Yes, young man, you can cook it and re-freeze it afterward, and it will be just fine.''
``Thank you, Dr. Veto.''
``No problem; glad I could be of assistance with your little problem.''
- Sheila Price
Wednesday, Feb. 8
9 p.m. - Red Lobster on Lynnhaven Parkway.
It's a cold night during a cold week and Becky and Tom Benton are out for a special seafood dinner.
Tom's mouth is watering for one of Red Lobster's specialties - live whole Maine lobster.
But, Becky says, soon after the waitress takes their order she returns to their table. ``I hate to tell you this,'' the server says. ``The lobsters are dead. They froze to death.''
- Melinda Forbes
Thursday, Feb. 9
7:25 a.m. - Windsor Oaks.
There's a new pecking order at the backyard bird feeder.
The chickadees, who give way to the finches; who give way to the cardinals; who give way to the blue jays; who give way to the grackles - all of whom give way to the marauding squirrels - are giving a stranger wide berth.
A Mexican redhead parrot has dropped in for breakfast, driving his feathered friends to the ground to dine with the doves and sparrows.
By the time animal control responds, a scant 20 minutes, the bird is gone. Such calls aren't unusual, says the officer; they get three to five a month. More than likely, the bird escaped some nearby coop.
- Craig Shapiro
Friday, Feb. 10
2:15 p.m. - Ear piercing booth, Lynnhaven Mall.
Three-month-old Caitlyn Nicholson sits quietly in her mother's lap while a technician marks the tiny ear lobes with a blue felt tip pen.
Caitlyn yawns occasionally and smiles at Sandra, the technician. Grandmother Alice Fuchs stands behind the counter and bobs a stuffed rabbit in front of Caitlyn's face.
Mom Deborah smiles nervously at the interested onlookers and holds Caitlyn's head still when Sandra approaches with the piercing gun.
``They say it's easier to get it done when they're this young,'' says Deborah, almost apologetically.
Sandra, wearing latex gloves, slides the ear lobe in between the metal holders and presses the lever. A gold post earring pierces Caitlyn's lobe in an instant, causing her to howl. Deborah immediately puts the baby on her shoulder, stands and walks around for a few minutes, trying to soothe her daughter.
Caitlyn calms down quickly, and Deborah returns to the chair. This time Caitlyn seems to know what's going to happen and starts squirming at Sandra's approach.
``It's OK, Caitlyn,'' Sandra says, as Deborah manages to hold Caitlyn's head still again. The gun pierces the other ear lobe and Caitlyn lets loose with an even louder cry than before. Deborah repeats her previous actions and leaves the booth.
``I wanted her to have it done now because I had to wait until I was a teenager,'' she explains, jostling red-faced Caitlyn, who is quieting down amazingly fast.
Sandra smiles at the baby and says that ear piercing is popular with parents of infants.
``We get a lot of babies in here,'' she says. ``On an average weekend, we'll do 20 or 30 babies.''
- Pam Starr
4:30 p.m. - North End.
Shelby Balderson is contemplating her neighbor's yard. The neighbors are out of town and the yard is littered with little bits of white paper. It looks like it has been trashed by neighborhood kids on a toilet paper spree.
Then a squirrel catches her eye. Balderson watches as the little animal tight-rope walks down the top of her back yard fence, leaps onto the counter of a pass-through in her pool house and disappears.
Moments later, the squirrel emerges, proud as a peacock, with a wad of white cocktail napkins in its mouth.
Balderson watches as the squirrel carries the napkins back down the fence to her driveway and then across the street and up into a tree in the neighbor's yard. Before long, little pieces of white paper drift to the ground as the squirrel appears to be ripping up the napkins.
Balderson checks out the tree. ``There's this beautiful padded nest - lovely and fluffy,'' she says, ``lined with bar napkins.''
Balderson says she had stored 500 or so napkins that were left over from a family wedding last summer in the pool house. The squirrel has used at least half of them.
- Mary Reid Barrow
Saturday, Feb. 11
10:09 a.m. - Independence Boulevard.
A gray Grand Marquis makes a bold political statement with its bumper sticker - Dr. Jack Kevorkian For White House Physician.
- Holly Wester
7 p.m. - Lynnhaven Mall.
Two 9-year-old girls sitting in the food court, waiting on their pizza, comment about an attractive man sitting with his daughter nearby.
Abbey, one of the girls, notices that the fellow is eyeballing her mother. ``Hey mom, that dude's trying to flirt with you,'' she says.
After informing her mom about the guy, Abbey and her friend, Tommi, take time out to figure out the cute guy's marital status.
``If he's at the mall with his daughter on a Saturday night, he must not be married,'' says Abbey, speaking from single-parent experience.
Tommi, however, doesn't agree. ``You can't say that he's single,'' she argues. ``He might be giving his wife the night off.''
- Holly Wester
Monday, Feb. 13
6 p.m. - Baxter Road.
The license plate of a dark blue Ford Tempo announces the driver's victory. It reads: ``CNCR S5R'' (Cancer survivor).
- Larry W. Brown
Tuesday, Feb. 14
5:05 p.m. - The Entertainers card shop at Loehmann's Plaza.
``I've got some cookies and stuff in the car. If I buy a valentine balloon will you wrap it all up together for me?'' a young female asks the clerks in the nearly empty store.
The three women behind the counter look at each other. ``If you hurry before the rush gets here,'' says one. ``It's getting-off-work time. We're expecting an onslaught of last-minute valentine buyers any minute now.''
- Melinda Forbes ILLUSTRATION: A cure for ``Stuttering''?
Staff photo by DAVID HOLLINGSWORTH
``Stuttering Brea'' of the Perry Stone show on radio 96X gets a
tongue piercing by Brian Thomas of Gloucester Point at Tara
Thunder's second-annual Bondage Breakfast on Valentine's Day. The
event featured games like shackle races and escape from the
straitjacket. Tara Thunder, a store on Atlantic Avenue, sells
lingerie and more exotic items. Joining Brea in the procedure are
Stone, left, and Pam Adams, owner of the store. Said Brea, ``It
didn't hurt me. It just felt like someone pinched my tongue.''
by CNB