Working the Room

Our puppy Bates was limping a little bit last night, so Starr Ann and I thought it best to take him to the animal clinic this morning.

The clinic sits on the edge of our town's ghetto. Yep. Been there since right after the Second World War. You'd think the location would kinda dictate the clientele, but that's not the case. Some things are just more compelling than prejudice and fear of the unknown. One of those things, I guess, is the bond some people share with the animals in their lives.

So, here's this little animal hospital, that still uses typewriters to keep their records, that instead of allowing folks to make appointments they take patients on a first-come-first-serve (okay, I know the lesbian readership here's gonna have a field day with that, but it's the most accurate way of describing the clinic's system) basis, that no matter how early you get there you're prolly in for at least a two-hour wait (Starr Ann and I once waited over five hours, no lie) and the waiting room is always packed.

Why do so many people go there? Depends. Some, especially people from the neighborhood, bring their animals because it's the least expensive veterinary clinic around. But reasonable fees can't explain why people fly their fancy show dogs in from as far as New York. And cost is certainly not the reason Starr Ann and I load up our critters in the pickup truck and drive for a whole hour to wait all that time to see one of the vets. Speaking strictly for Starr Ann and myself, we go for the quality of care.

Anyway, we pulled into the parking lot around ten this morning, and the place was already mobbed. Had to ride around for about five minutes, just waiting for a parking spot to open up. Finally, this SUV's backup lights went on right when we were in position to slide in its spot. By the time we got parked, Bates was fit to be tied. That boy loves sitting in the waiting room with all the other people and animals. It's like he's the host of a big party, making eye contact with the owners until they trust him enough to let him sniff their dog or cat or snake or rabbit or you-name-it.

So, as we got out of the truck, Bates was all squirmy and squeaky. But Starr Ann and I took time to check out the bumper stickers we passed on the way to the door. As usual, there was an eclectic mix.

First one we spotted read: I’m So Old I Remember When America Made Things. Not too bad, considering some of the ones we've seen there. Starr Ann and I looked at each other and smiled cautiously.

Next one, slapped real haphazard onto the back window of a battered Oldsmobile, screamed the lovely sentiment: Celebrate Guantanamo! Uh-oh.

Moving on, we came to a neat little hybrid with a tiny sticker proclaiming: A Puppy Is for Life, Not Just for Christmas.

By that point, Bates was twisting so bad in Starr Ann's arms we had to speed up, just to keep him from straining something. I caught a few others as we zoomed past them: I'm a Survivor of Roe v Wade, One Nation Under Surveillance, Dick Cheney Shoots His Friends (I knew Starr Ann saw that one too, because she snickered), and Understanding Terrorists...one bullet at a time.

It looked like we were in for an innerestin' two or three hours, bottled up with the people who ushered those opinions around. For the record, our F150 has a turquoise sticker with brown lettering that says: Cowgirls Don't Take Directions. That's because it's true. Heh.

Well, we got signed in and since all the seats were full, we had to stand up at first, which was fine with us after that long ride. Bates immediately focused on the biggest dog in the room, one of the meatier Rottweilers we've ever seen. So Bates wiggles up to this guy, whose person was an eighty-something lady with shiny hair that wasn't exactly blue, but pretty close. The Rotty bellied out on the floor just in case Bates got cold feet, which he never would, and the two of them went nose to nose. Geronimo (the rot) and his lady (Kathy) were absolutely ga-ga over Bates, which played right into Bates' hand. Once he was like this with the biggest beast in the place, all the others were just a matter of a few tail wags and cute glances. Our boy Bates can really work a room.

Turned out Geronimo was in to have a little cyst on his back leg looked at. Across from Geronimo, there sat a tall slim boy holding a tiny pup. When Bates got to them the boy, who seemed pretty shy, said he lived over in Cliffsdale (which is a housing project a few blocks from the clinic) and he'd found the puppy on his way to the store last week. He'd been doing some jobs and saving up so he could pay to get the pup's shots.

Starr Ann went over and stooped down beside this kid so she could pet the puppy. "Whatcha calling him?"

"Jack, short for Jackpot."

Starr Ann patted Jack's head once more and came back over by me, since the kid seemed uncomfortable with the attention.

Over in the corner, there was this great big white guy holding an older brown poodle all wrapped up in a yellow blanket. I had the guy pegged as the most likely candidate for driving the Understand Terrorists...one bullet at a time car. I think Starr Ann did too, because she kinda kept Bates busy on the other side of the room, away from that guy. But then the first two seats to get vacant were right next to him, and it would've been a little obvious if we hadn't taken them, so we ended sitting right next to this big redneck-looking man who would most likely just as soon step on a couple of lesbians as look at 'em.

Bates continued to suck up all the attention in the waiting room, which kept the spotlight pretty much on Starr Ann and me too. So, people were asking us about Bates, and telling us all about their pets and things were rolling along pretty friendly and smooth.

Then, since that man was near us, some of the spotlight leaked over on him. Geronimo's lady asked, "What's your poodle's name?"

Well, you don't usually picture conservatives having soft, loving looks on their faces, but this guy just lit up as he looked down at his dog and re-situated the yellow blankie around her shoulders. He said, "Her name's Prancy, because when she was young, she could prance with the best of 'em." Then, just as unconcerned as anything, he bent forward and kissed Prancy on top of her brown curly head.

We spent the whole rest of the time before Bates got called back hearing about Prancy's condition. Seems she has this real complicated heart condition that needs close monitoring. Besides all the expense that Clay (how's that for a perfect redneck name?) has gone to for Prancy, he's put in an incredible amount of time bringing her to the vet twice a week, once for her treatment and once for a check to make sure her meds aren't harming her. When the technician came out to take Prancy back for her treatment, Clay kissed her head again right before handing her over.

Geronimo had been called back a few minutes before they took Prancy, so we got to see which car his lady, Kathy, got into. Ready for this? Kathy was the Celebrate Guantanamo driver. Tell you what, bumper stickers don't reveal half as much about the prejudices of others as they do about your own.

Bates is fine. They think he just twisted a hip muscle, so he's got anti-inflammatory pills and a muscle relaxer. Goes back for a re-check in two weeks, unless it looks like he's not improving. In that case, we're supposed to take him back right away.

Walking out to the truck, we saw Clay driving off, and there was Prancy's pretty little face right beneath his, between him and the steering wheel. We were right, by the way. Clay was the Understand Terrorists...one bullet at a time guy.

Once we were all settled in the truck and Bates had decided whether he wanted the window open or closed (open, of course), Starr Ann looked over at me and said, "You know, I always think of them as hating us because of who we love, and us being disgusted with them because of who they hate."

I nodded. "Yep. Gets murky when you have to realize they're capable of love too."

Starr Ann turned the engine over and sighed real big as she said, "Guess as long as we're seeing it in us and them terms, nothing's going to change much."

I had no illusions about how hard it was for Starr Ann to reach that conclusion. And I'm sure she'll be her old self and back to thinking up ways to torment Republicans real soon. But the shades of gray gained a little space in her spectrum today. Mine too.

A Blast

As I may have mentioned before, my best friend Starr Ann (hi, Starr Ann) is the world's best at getting a party together STAT. So, there we were, expecting Lane and Jamila to arrive in mid-afternoon, and Starr Ann had the party ready to launch by late morning. Still wouldn't tell me what her big surprise was, though.

Afternoon came and went without one sign of the kids. Which was a little bit comforting. It felt good to know Basic Training and tech school hadn't made Lane grow up too much. At the same time, though, Starr Ann and I'd really been looking forward to having the girls all to ourselves, if only for an hour or so. Dang, where does time go?

By seven, most of the Posse had arrived. Still no Lane and Jamila, but things were cranking into high gear by their own selves.

Lori had somehow rigged up a lighted footpath between her Riding Cowgirls Ranch and our Happy Hands. It was quite beautiful, and I still don't really understand how she did it, but that's Lori for you. Lori also brought a lot of marshmallows, on the off chance Reeflightning didn't make it on time, since she had to travel so far. But right as Lori started to get the campfire going, Reef arrived. So, all good. The marshmallow specialist was in charge of the marshmallows. Anyway, Lori was supposed to be on hot tub patrol.

Everybody was having a real good time when, about eight or so, here comes Lane and Jamila walking through the door. Dang! Talk about two beautiful kids full of life and so in love you could see it a mile away! It was like a pheromone cloud rolled in with them. I mean it, the place started rocking.

Our puppy Bates came running from who-knows-where and made the leap of his life into Lane's arms. That boy just about wiggled in two, his tail was wagging so hard. And in a surprise move, he took to Jamila right away. Still in Lane's arms, he twisted his neck and leaned over toward Jamila's face. Of course, we all know Bates, so there was a collective gasp, and we all held our breaths. But he didn't even try to bite her. Just licked her face.

Starr Ann said, real matter of fact, "Prolly smells more like Lane than Lane does," which broke the tension enough that everybody laughed. Lane had the decency to blush. Black women, though, have an unfair advantage. Jamila might have blushed, then again she might not have.

After their entrance, everything just took off. What I remember is real patchy. At one point, I was in the pasture in bare feet, dancing with Frannie, Tigger, CJ, and the -inas. Funny thing about the -inas. Gina surely remembers being at the party, but I got a message from Nina this morning saying she was sorry to miss the hoedown. Just goes to show you Nina's so in love with Gina she truly doesn't know where she is half the time.

There was another point when I spotted Starr Ann, Cap'n Dyke, and Frannie huddled up real close, like they were talking real serious. Then they all three at once threw their heads back and laughed real hard. Don't know why, but the sight of that just made me so happy I almost couldn't stand it.

On my way out to check on the horses, I spotted yet another lovely Posse member, JoeyJoe, emerging from that lighted footpath with Lori. That made about the fourth cowgirl I'd seen Lori on that path with. What the heck?

I said, "You chargin' for this shuttle, Hahn?"

Lori didn't bat an eyelash, just whipped out this little pad of post-it notes and started writing. She tore off the one she'd written on and said, "Here you go, Margo. I'm actually booked solid, but I'll fit you in at 11:30. Meet me right about here."

Smiling real appreciative, all I said was, "Thanks," and I went on to the barn.

Well, guess what? There was no need for me to go checking on the horses. Lane, Jamila and Bates were already in there handing out carrots. Jamila was inside Lightning's stall. Lane saw how surprised I looked and she told me not to worry, that animals just seemed to take to Jamila. Sure enough, Lightning was being a perfect gentleman.

Right then, the door slid open. It was Starr Ann. All four of us spent a few seconds smiling like crazy, just happy to share a few private moments.

Starr Ann came over and bumped shoulders with Lane. She asked Jamila, "Wanna hear any of the good oil on Lane, Jamila? I know a few of her secrets."

Jamila kissed Lightning right on his muzzle and came out into the shedrow with us. "Sure. I want to know it all. Wish we had more time."

I said, "There'll be plenty of time someday. We completely understand how anxious you are to see your folks."

A little wave of sunlight passed across Jamila's features at just the mention of her parents. That was real nice to see. I can't tell you how happy Starr Ann, Lane, and I felt for Jamila right then.

Anyway, a loud hoot from outside made us all jump and go look. Almost everybody had congregated around Reef's campfire, and somebody must have said something hilarious, because the whole Posse was just about in tears, they were laughing so hard.

I lost track of Jodie and Starr Ann for about half an hour after that, and I should have known it had something to do with Starr Ann's surprise. It sure did!

All of a sudden, Starr Ann and Jodie came up to us all at the fire and hollered, "Snowball fight!"

I couldn't believe it. This is only May, for Goddess sakes! See? Every winter, Starr Ann stockpiles a bunch of snowballs - fills up our freezer and the freezers in all her bunkers. This year, she even made Jodie let her load a bunch of 'em in her freezer. Anyway, Starr Ann always waits until July or August, in the middle of the summer's worst heatwave, to break out the snowballs and have our snowball fight. It's unheard of for her to spend her snowballs in May. But there they were, in a bunch of piles spread all around the field, far enough from the fire to keep them from melting before the battle.

It took a minute, but everybody caught on pretty quick and in no time the snowballs were flying everywhere, people were screaming as snow exploded against their warm bare legs, and squealing as crushy ice got dropped down the backs of their shirts. Five minutes of fleeting mayhem, and it was all over. Or so we thought. Everybody was out of breath and giggling, when Starr Ann said, "Uh-oh."

All eyes turned to where Starr Ann was looking. Jamila had held back a single snowball and was standing there carefully holding it, with an evil look in her eye.

Giggling, Lane said, "Toss it, Honey Girl, it's gonna melt."

Jamila looked down at the quickly vanishing snowball, and her evil expression turned real seductive. She gave Lane a challenging look right before taking a big bite out of that snowball, then holding it out toward Lane. Guiding it by holding Jamila's wrist, Lane took the next bite. They did that until that last one of this winter's snowballs was all gone.

The girls had to leave early the next morning to make their flight to Jamila's parents' house in Dallas. Before they left, they confirmed what we all pretty much knew already. They're being sent to Iraq. Real soon. They'll be there before the month is over.

Right now, what we're doing is staying focused on the fun we had at that party. Not thinking too deeply about what we can't control.

Oh, speaking of the party, somebody left a pair of chaps near that path to Lori's place. They look like Frannie's. Just sayin'.

Lane's On The Plane

Somehow, Starr Ann's party plans fell together just right. The house was filling up with women who hit the doorway taking in deep, appreciative whiffs of Starr Ann's cooking and talking fast. What great weather! Have Lane and Amanda shown up yet? Wow, Bates is getting big, no wait, he isn't!

Most of The Posse and all of the Saloon Ladies were there, when Lane and Amanda came walking in looking, well, they were aglow. Heh. People started kissing and hugging them and Amanda was eating it up, but Lane gets a little tight when the affection starts to flow, so she scooped up Bates and told him how handsome he looked in his new "Don't Watch Me Poop" sweater. I got him the bright yellow one with royal blue lettering.

Anyway, this party was already rocking when Lori came swooping in looking cowgirly, yes, but also decidedly piratical. She was leading a contingent from Th'Mound and declared, "This here's Cap'n Dyke's Advanced Plunderin' Party! Prepare to be prepared to be plundered!"

Dang, she was serious. She and the Crew started unloading supplies and Lori personally brought a bottle of Jose Cuervo over to me and asked how I liked it. I said straight, lime no salt. She had two whole shots in me before I knew what was happening. But, heh, it was party time.

Starr Ann was in her glory! Jodie was helping her put out the food, and The Posse just kept complimenting her on just about everything. And Lane really did look happy. She really did.

Right about when everybody got quiet so Sandwriter could read a farewell poem, Lane swung into the dining room, laughing and glancing around, saying, "Where's my Bates Boy?"

FRoG said last time she saw him, he was snapping at one of the pirates.

TripleSecs spoke up and said, "That was me he bit." She was rubbing her ankle a little. "But after that, I saw him walking out the side door, looking all businesslike."

Lane smiled, but kinda rushed to the side door. She was back in a few seconds, looking pretty panicky. "I don't see him!"

Well, right as our all-out search started up, Cap'n Dyke came riding in on Plunder. She stopped next to me, where I was searching some bushes, and said, "Now, Ye didn't think a few Tons o'Ice would be keepin' Me from th'Party, did Ye?"

She studied me kinda hard while I was telling her about Bates being lost. "Me Margo, how much Advance Plunderin' has Me APP accomplished?"

I showed her the tequila bottle Lori had been helping me with, and said, "This much, but that's beside the point! Bates really is lost."

Everything started happening real fast. Starr Ann came running out to tell us Lane had a great idea. She found the card from that animal communicator, Simone, and was on the phone with her right then. We all went inside to get the word.

Bottom line from Simone was that everybody who Bates knows well should fan out, searching and calling his name. Everybody else should get busy printing up flyers and getting them posted all over the place. So, Lori led the poster brigade and Starr Ann, Amanda and I were about to go out calling for Bates, when Lane called us back.

Lane was still on the phone. She said, "Simone has him!" Then she listened a minute, and said, "A man picked Bates up and drove off with him...blue truck...Bates is showing Simone a man's hairy arms as he was being carried...now he's showing her an eagle...no, a hawk on the man's wrist...Simone says maybe a tattoo..."

Starr Ann and I said at the same second, "Randy Sneed!"

We raced for the barn and Starr Ann beat me by a mile, probably because of the tequila. She was already on Oatmeal when Cap'n Dyke intercepted me, saying, "Pop up here, Me Poppet. Ye be seemin' just a Mite Tipsy for ridin' Trickster."

Plunder's one fast steed! We got to Randy's front porch a few hops ahead of Starr Ann. The Cap'n and I reached the door and were about to pound on it, when Starr Ann pushed past us and just opened the thing. Not a lot of locked doors around here. Anyway, there Randy was, standing in his living room smirking.

Starr Ann said, 'Where's the puppy?"

Randy said, "Now I didn't go and wreck your little queer party, did I?"

One second Randy Sneed was grinning his face off and the next he was slamming against the wall with a dagger grazing his throat and a real-life Cap'n Dyke growl happening about four inches from his face.

Cap'n said, "Now ye'll be tellin' Me Mighty Heart Rustler where ye've put th'Puppy."

Real shaky, Randy said, "In that bathroom just the other side of the hall."

Starr Ann threw the door open and came right back out cuddling little Bates, letting him settle against her cleavage the way he loves to do.

Randy said, "I wasn't gonna hurt anything. Just a little joke. You know how I like to joke, right Margo? Right Starr Ann?"

Lane and Amanda came flying through the door and all four of us just wallowed in the relief of being able to touch Bates. Finally, we looked up and saw that Randy was still nailed into place.

I said, "Might as well let him go, Cap'n."

"Not so fast, Me Magnificent." Cap'n Dyke rammed Randy into the wall a little harder and said, "Will One o'ye be checkin' t'See if th'Wee Lad was provided with a bowl o'Water?" She bared her teeth at Randy. "That'll be th'Measure that decides yer Fate, Me Coward." Then she smiled real nice like.

Starr Ann peeked into the bathroom. "Guess you can let him live, Cap'n. There's a big bowl of water and a coupla treats on the floor in there."

I truly think Cap'n was disappointed to hear that. But she turned Randy loose and we all rode home together.

It was the middle of the night by the time everybody got back and the food wasn't exactly in its prime, but none of that mattered much. About four in the morning, Lane got a call. It was from Simone, and they talked for over an hour. After that, Lane's whole demeanor was changed. She was real calm. Seemed real confident. And she started hugging us and telling us she loved us.

Since the night was long gone, and Lane and Amanda had to be on their plane at eight, the whole Posse and all the Saloon Ladies went to the airport to see them off with us.

The very last thing Lane said before leaving was something she whispered to Bates. We couldn't hear what she said, but the puppy who never whines whined the whole time Lane and Amanda were walking away from us toward the plane.



And here's that farewell poem Sandwriter never did get around to reciting:


learning to fly

amanda, lane
i think you're daft
to join the army
sans the draft

in times of peace
it seems ok
with uniforms
and war game play

but war, in countries
far from home
destruction, death
where 'er you roam

but girls must do
what girls must do
and maybe this
is right for you

here at home
we anxious wait
for your return
which will be great

do your duty
soldier well
protect your heart
from war's vile spell

remember love
and gentle days
our love goes with you
for always

Shitake! It's a Shebang!

Holy Mother of God! (Well, we were raised Catholic, remember)

Starr Ann is cooking. Let me compose myself and begin at the beginning. Deep breath.

Okay, so Starr Ann has decided that tonight, Lane and Amanda's final night with us before leaving tomorrow for Basic Training, we will have a big going away bash. Starr Ann, my best friend Starr Ann, actually went to the grocery on her own and is now in the kitchen preparing a meal by herself. Jodie and I begged her to at least consult with Lori, who is a gourmet cook for Goddess sake, but no. Starr Ann says this meal will be her sendoff gift to Amanda and Lane.

It's just like Starr Ann to come up with this at the last minute. Anyway, she's put me in charge of a million things. I'm supposed to be getting the word out, so anybody in The Posse who sees this, know you're hereby invited to the party, okay? I've sent word over to Riding Cowgirls Ranch, so Lori should be here. And Jodie, of course, knows. We have no idea how to reach Cap'n Dyke, but according to her blog, she's iced in or something. I'm hoping that's a teeny tiny Piratical Untruth though, and have some small reason to believe it might be. Sandwriter, Joyce, Mimi, FRoG, Hill, Becky, and Heather! Ya'll get yer selves over here. And, Sandwriter, bring your pen and paper, okay? We have to see these girls off in style.

Jodie rode over to the saloon to fetch Lou Lou and the ladies.

I'm also in charge of keeping the party a secret from Lane and Amanda. Heh. No problem there. They're making the most of their last day to share a private bedroom.

Starr Ann said I didn't have to do any decorating, other than getting something really snazzy for Bates to wear. I saw a muscle shirt at the feedstore last week with "Stop Watching Me Poop" on it. If they have his size, that's what he'll be wearing. Lane's gonna love it.

Dang! All of a sudden, a delectable aroma, something quite unlike anything I've ever smelled, is pouring in here from the kitchen. What if it turns out Starr Ann can cook?

Anyway, that's all for today, because like I said, Starr Ann has a million things for me to do.

We Took Bates To A Psychic!

Our puppy, Bates, is getting cuter. Really. Well, anything would be an improvement on when we first found him, but still, we believe he's approaching adorable. Only thing is, his body doesn't seem to be keeping pace with his head growth. Maybe it's just our imaginations.

Remember when my best friend Starr Ann and I found him? It didn't take long for us to forget all about his appearance, and his judgmental attitude, and his urinary habits, and to fall completely in love with little Norman Bates. The only other people in the world who see Bates for his true self are Jodie, of course, and Lane. Lane is the teenager Starr Ann and I met while chaperoning that trail ride for delinquent girls. Yep, Lane's the extra-belligerent, extra-sharp-witted one we had pegged as a baby dyke. And she fell in love with Bates right away.

The girls' home they placed her in allows a day or a weekend away in exchange for good behavior, and Lane comes over to our house on every free day she earns. Her social worker says Lane never showed much cooperation before meeting Starr Ann and me. Well, it's really Starr Ann who hit it off with Lane first, so I give her all the credit. Don't get me wrong, though, over the weeks since meeting her, I've grown to love Lane as much as Starr Ann does. And what a cool case worker she has in Jennifer! Jennifer Dobbs actually recognizes Lane's lesbianism and encourages her to look at us as role models. For Starr Ann and me, that's wonderful and scary at the same time.

Anyway, Lane came over yesterday on a two-day leave. She was lying on the floor in a patch of sunlight, flipping through the newpaper, with Bates right beside her. All of a sudden, she sat upright and said, "There's a Fall Festival in town, and there's going to be a pet psychic there." Lane scooped Bates up and kissed his knobby little head. "Could we take him there and find out what's going on in his brain?"



Contrary to what Lane's youthful preconceptions had set up, pet psychics do not use crystal balls. Matter of fact, the whole operation is pretty free of hocus pocus. We watched as Simone (that was the animal communicator's name) smiled affectionately at each animal she was about to read, and then began answering the owners' questions.

When it was our turn, Simone took little Bates into her arms and a look of alarm crossed her features. That passed fairly quickly and Simone turned to us. "What's its, I mean, what's his name?"

Lane proudly said, "Norman Bates. Bates for short."

Simone took a deep breath and looked right into Bates' eyes. "Do you have a specific question for him?"

Lane hesitated, so Starr Ann supplied, "Maybe just his general outlook. What he thinks of us. You know, is there any way we could make him happier. He's awful happy already, we think."

Simone explained that animals communicate chiefly through pictures. She said, "He's showing me a picture of a woman, you I think," she pointed to me, "sitting in front of a computer."

"That would be me, I'm Margo."

"Well, Margo, he's showing me a vision of peeing on your keyboard. I'm getting the sense he's jealous of the time you spend writing, and would appreciate more playtime with you."

Simone got quiet for a few seconds, then frowned in concentration. "Showing me something, can't quite, it might be two ripe, no wait, it's a plush, no," and Simone broke off. Finally, she opened her eyes back up, glanced at Starr Ann's breasts, and said, "He's showing me cleavage." She nodded at Starr Ann. "Yours."

"Makes sense, he used to sleep between my breasts when he was tiny."

Simone was still a tiny bit transfixed on the front of Starr Ann's shirt. "Well he'd still like to sleep there."

Starr Ann patted Bates' shoulder. "Tough luck, buddy. Make yourself another wish."

When Simone tuned back in to Bates' thoughts, she got to smiling so big, you'd have thought she was still reading one of the more normal pets. To Lane, she said, "He's showing me a picture of the two of you, lying in sweet green grass, your eyes full of blue sky." Simone laughed out loud and continued, "This is purely a dog thing, but he's very clear about the fact that you both have full bellies." Then Simone did something she hadn't done with Starr Ann and me. She just about stared a hole through Lane, almost like it was Lane she was reading. Simone had to snap a little to get her attention back to Bates. She said, "This creature loves you with his entire heart and soul, young lady."

Lane suddenly seemed to be caught between whether to run or cry or pass out. Her eyes filled up with tears, and she said to Simone, real cold, "Tell him that's not a smart move."

Simone was obviously shaken by something too. I was beginning to feel like Starr Ann and I were eavesdropping on a private conversation, and I guess we were, but there was no way to walk away discreetly at that point. Simone said, "It's already done. He already needs you." And she held Bates out for Lane to take.

There were a few tense moments, as Lane didn't reach for the puppy right away. Then, abruptly, the mood shifted, and Lane had Bates in her arms as usual. Just that quick, all the drama evaporated and we were once again three people and a puppy out on a lark, enjoying the Fall Fair.

Later on in the day, we passed by Simone's booth during a slow period and she called us over. She said to all of us, but somehow particularly to Lane, "I read people, too. Would be happy to do you for free."

Lane backed up three steps, scared to death. "Not me. Thanks, though."

Simone raised her eyebrows at Starr Ann and me. We said, sure, a reading sounded fun.

Guess what? I was a pirate captain in a former life! That's right. Cap'n Margo Moon, to be exact.



And cool as that is, guess what? Starr Ann descends directly from Maat, the Egyptian goddess.

BioHazard

Jodie and I disagree on one big point. Jodie believes we should try to assist Starr Ann during her special days each month. I believe we should stick with what has worked in the past, which is sending Starr Ann off for a few quiet days alone in one of her bunkers.

This morning, Starr Ann snapped at me about ten times over absolutely nothing. I had just started getting her clothes ready and framing how I'd suggest that she go underground, when Jodie showed up.

All Jodie said was, "Starr Ann, honey, can I give you a hand moving that stove?"

Here I should note that one of Starr Ann's PMS peculiarities is rearranging appliances. Major appliances. No idea where this comes from.

So Starr Ann set the hand truck upright, real gentle like so as not to damage the stove, and said, "What do I look like? A wimp?"

The alarm on Jodie's face made me want to laugh, but I knew I shouldn't. I said, "Jodie, come help me pick out a CD, will you?"

Once we were out of Starr Ann's earshot, I told Jodie, "All we need to do is finish packing this little bag for her and make a mild suggestion. She always takes the hint and goes to one of the shelters."

"Margo, that's cruel. How can you banish someone you love for, for...how long does she usually stay gone?"

I said, "Depends. Let me do a little recon."

Back in the kitchen, I offered, "Starr Ann, the refrigerator looks nice there in front of the windows and all, but there's no place to plug it in."

Starr Ann threw her hands in the air and let them smack back down on her thighs real loud. "Well, great. Maybe you've got a better idea where to put it."

I walked over and held Starr Ann's hand for a few seconds, all understanding like, meanwhile checking on the degree of puffiness. "It's all right, we can run an extension cord." Then I opened the refrigerator and pretended to search its dark interior for the milk. I let a few choice words slip out of my mouth. "General Musharraf." No irate response from Starr Ann. "Arundhati Roy." No look of admiration tinged with lust from Starr Ann. "Dick Cheney." Starr Ann did not gag. I closed the fridge and followed Starr Ann into the laundry room where she was unhooking the dryer. "Gonna need the pipe wrench for the washer connection?"

With utter disgust, she said, "Do I look like a complete idiot?"

I kissed her on the cheek and went to give Jodie the report. "Okay, Jodie, here's the deal. She's a major chemical spill. Almost no functioning of the neocortex. Responds to neither positive nor negative idealistic stimulus. However, there is exaggerated response to trivial suggestions concerning the appliances. From the feel of her fingers, water weight buildup is about as bad as it gets." I put a consoling hand on Jodie's shoulder. "We have to let her go. And to answer your question, I'd say we're looking at three days, minimum."

"Well, that's just not acceptable, Margo. Three days every month adds up to thirty-six days a year. One entire month every year that we just hustle her off so we don't have to put up with her behavior."

Right then Bates, our puppy who dedicates his life to being contrary and unyielding, scooted from the utility room with his tail between his legs and burrowed under the sofa.

In the most humble, rest-my-case manner I could muster, I said, "She's even scaring the animals. We must keep her away from the horses."

Jodie folded her arms and that was about the final straw for me. Much as I hated to do it, I suggested, "Maybe Starr Ann should stay at your house for a few days. That way, you could take real good care of her. Make her comfortable during these difficulties. As soon as her period cuts loose, send her on home. Hmmmm? Does that sound like the loving thing to do?"

Heh. They left about an hour ago. If Jodie's half the woman I think she is, it'll take her one, maybe two, days to come around to my way of thinking and haul Starr Ann off to a shelter. In the meantime, as soon as I get this last ceiling fan put back up, I've got the house and lots of leisure time all to myself.

A Perfect Day For A Trail Ride

My best friend Starr Ann and I were helping out with our neighbor's trail ride. Every week, our neighbor Carol Fager donates her land and horses for a couple of hours to some girls from the local halfway house. Carol's always scrounging up adults to ride along. We weren't looking forward to it, but figured it was our turn to do our duty. At least our new puppy, Bates, would enjoy riding up on Oatmeal with Starr Ann.

Holy Goddess! Five teenaged girls can sure bicker and find fault with everything. The four who had all the makeup on could not quit griping. The loner just rode along, quiet and moody, like she couldn't care less whether she were riding a horse or sitting in a dentist's chair.

Instead of enjoying the air that had turned cool yesterday, they were trashing the English class they'd just left. One of them said, "It really pisses me off being forced to sit through an hour of some bitch going on about an old guy telling some kid about a bunch of fish." Her voice went up a notch. "Then the guy shoots himself in the head at the end, after all that."

Lane, the brooding girl, finally said something. "You stupid shit. It wasn't about real fish. Bananafish aren't real fish. They stand for something else." She urged her horse forward a little quicker. "Idiot."

Well, Starr Ann just happens to think A Perfect Day For Bananafish is a masterpiece. So she said, "Lane's right."

Goddess! Kids with problems are unpredictable. Lane gave Starr Ann the meanest look you ever saw and said, "I don't need anybody taking up for me, lady."

Starr Ann seemed surprised for a second, then she said, "I'm not concerned with what you need. I was taking up for the author, whose work I happen to respect quite a lot."

The other four girls snickered real loud, and Lane shot another dagger Starr Ann's way. She looked down at Bates and said, "Your dog needs to pee."

Starr Ann said, "He got down right before we left, I think he's fine for a while."

A brief, mutually smug and insolent glance passed between Lane and Bates. They looked like two long lost friends who used to be allies on the Dark Side. Lane shook her head and told Starr Ann, "Suit yourself, but he's getting ready to piss all over you."

Not half a minute down the trail Starr Ann let out a yelp and held Bates out at arm's length, where he continued to leak on her saddle horn and Oatmeal's mane.

When Lane dropped her permanent scowl and almost smiled, you could see the child she should be being at this time in her life. She got control of it almost immediately, but not before Starr Ann saw it too.

We all stopped so Starr Ann could clean things up, and before we got started again, Starr Ann asked Lane, "Would you like for Bates to ride with you? I think you two have something going."

Lane shrugged, but reached out to take Bates anyway.

The girls' conversation had turned into a pretty good parent bashing, and one of them, Bette I think her name was, said, "You think that's bad, Lane said she don't know if she ever saw her mom sober. Right, Lane?"

Lane squinted her eyes, but her voice was even. "Probably not. I don't know." The hand she wasn't holding the reins with was steadily stroking Bates' back.

Starr Ann asked, "What about your dad?"

Without missing one beat or stopping Bates' back rub, Lane said, real thoughtful, "My father's okay, just another tragic case of a heterosexual male trapped in a man's body."

It took a second, but Starr Ann cracked up and just about fell off Oatmeal.

That time, Lane really did let go and smiled so big even those other four sour girls joined in.

Once Starr Ann got hold of herself, she eased Oatmeal up alongside Lane and rode next to her the whole rest of the way home.

Everybody was milling around the outside of the barn after we put the horses up. I guess the girls were waiting for the van from the home to come back for them. We said we better get going, and Carol asked us when we wanted to do it again sometime.

I thought to myself, How about near the turn of the next century?, and I knew Starr Ann was on the same page.

Until she said, "We're available next week. Same time?" Then on her way to Oatmeal, she paused near Lane and said, low, "I'd like to hear your thoughts on the meaning of bananafish."

Lane's shrug showed up again, but she said, real nonchalant, "Whatever. I don't care."

Starr Ann held Bates out and Lane gave him some very light noogies on the top of his noggin.

I think maybe a whole human being who was about to slip through the cracks might have found someone in this world to look up to.