We're All Good Eggs

The nuns at our orphanage were very thorough about Sex Education. Well, they called it Health and Hygiene, but believe me, it was sex ed. It used to kinda amaze Starr Ann and me that nuns of all people were so caught up in studying the reproductive cycle, until we decided it was a lot like the way Starr Ann and I were innerested in space travel and fascinated by Pygmies. Deep down, we had a pretty good idea we'd never experience either up-close, but that's what made imagining so fun. Same with nuns and reproduction, I guess.

Anyway, there's a small reproductive tidbit I get reminded of about once a month. It's a little piece of software, called apoptosis, that gets run by a female fetus roughly halfway through her time inside mama. Already possessing each and every egg she'll ever have by that time, the little girl's body sends a signal to those eggs, telling them to commence with mass suicide. Yep! All but the strongest of our eggs commit apoptosis before we're born, leaving something like 400 of them that have to last us throughout our fertile days.

So about once a month, when Starr Ann starts showing signs of PMS, I can't help but think it seems like we've been through this way more than 400 times already. It is kinda intriguin' to discover which flavor of PMS we'll endure each month, though, I have to admit.

Like this morning, Starr Ann sauntered past Jodie and me in the living room and said, "Think I'll go try out this recipe I dreamed up. Key lime quiche. How does that sound?"

Now there was a time, and not so very long ago, when a declaration like that woulda struck terror in our hearts. But ever since we had the stove password protected, Starr Ann's cooking threats aren't nearly as scary.

Starr Ann gets real distracted during her special days, so it took about an hour for her to wander back out of the kitchen and mention, "Stove's broken."

Jodie and I just muttered something we hoped gave the general impression we'd have that looked into, which wasn't even necessary, because Starr Ann had already lighted on another swell idea.

She brightened all up and said, "Hey, why don't we get some baby chicks this Easter?"

Expertly navigating away from an outright negative response, Jodie said, "What an idea, darling. I think that definitely bears a closer look - right before Easter."

Dang! Jodie's good.

Then things got dangerous, because Starr Ann suggested we go over to Jodie's house and whip up some omelettes. She offered to use our eggs, and when she came back in carrying the carton, reading about how the eggs came from cage-free hens who don't get antibiotics, and who eat organic food, that set Starr Ann's hormonally imbalanced thoughts going on whether we should even be eating eggs in the first place. Starr Ann was this close to clouding up with tears when Jodie and I executed a beautiful team effort where Jodie faked like she had a splinter in her finger and when Starr Ann put the eggs down to go sterilize a pin, I put the carton away real fast.

Poor Starr Ann. She was wearing us out, so we had to get rid of her for the weekend. It was almost too easy to do. We just had Celia Susan call real breathless and everything to report that the signals from Starr Ann's bunker security system were coming in all scrambled. Poor thing couldn't get saddled up quick enough to go troubleshoot her equipment.


***For an incredibly innerestin' explanation of apoptosis, check out this 1, 369-word excerpt from Natalie Angier's Woman: An Intimate Geography.

Can Spring Fever Be Fatal?

It's way too early to be afflicted with spring fever. Prolly something to do with climate change. Anyway, I could just daydream and watch this all day long.

Lorenzo : the Flying French Man...
by alatebo

Saddle Up, America!

Since our orphanage was Catholic, Starr Ann and I were basically raised by nuns. Well, really and truly, we raised each other. But until we learned a few tricks, the nuns were in charge.

Anyway, I guess most people have heard of Lent. Part of how Catholics observe Lent is by 'giving something up' during the weeks between Ash Wednesday and Easter. Well, at the orphanage, the nuns used to make us all stand up in class the day before Ash Wednesday and declare what we'd be giving up. When Starr Ann was about eight, she stood up big as you please and announced with real regret in her voice that she'd be giving up lima beans for Lent that year. Only thing was, Starr Ann hated lima beans, and everybody knew it.

I personally thought that showed a lot of imagination and ingenuity on Starr Ann's part. Sister Blissie Marie thought it showed a lot of disrespect and smart-aleckness. AND, Sister for some reason suspected the idea originally came from me. So, Starr Ann and I both were assigned a Lenten sacrifice that year. To this day, neither Starr Ann nor I can really look directly at a lima bean.

So, last night, as Jodie, Starr Ann and I were savoring President Obama's Inauguration Day, all of a sudden, his message penetrated our revelry. If the man said it once yesterday, he said it eight thousand times - we all have to find a way to pitch in. Dang!

We had a long talk, and decided that Jodie's already doing her part by chronicling the Bush years in her textbook for middle-school kids.

Then we focused on me and decided that since two major areas of focus are to be education and science, the best way for me to serve will be to find a good inner-city tutoring program and volunteer to help kids get a good math and science foundation.

Starr Ann isn't saying yet how she plans to contribute, but she promises it won't have anything to do with lima beans. Heh.

And speaking of doing your part - anybody whose imagination and incentive hasn't quite caught fire yet should check out Heather's series on her extraordinary experiences volunteering in Nicaragua as part of a Habitat for Humanity Global Village trip. Even if you already know how you plan to serve in our new America, you might want to pop on over there, because Part One begins with a little vlog where you get to see a mighty cute girl.

She See You, Baby

On the day Barack Obama's beloved grandmother passed away, in the stillness of the irony that she departed within hours of seeing him elected President of the United States, I read a comment on a news article that echoes now, as we watch this man take the life of our country in his hands.

The comment simply read:

She see you, baby, now go to your destiny.

He Would Have Been Eighty

The mind and heart soar in imagining how Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. would rejoice in what's about to happen in Washington tomorrow.

Children of Gaza, Run to the Angels

Starr Ann and I were watching cartoons this morning, when she stood up, walked calmly to the TV, and turned it off. Her voice had that calm, controlled quality that lately means she's fighting off tears over the children of Gaza and all the others who are suffering and dying because of someone else's politics, greed or religious beliefs.

Over the last week, Starr Ann and I will be going about our merry way, laughing, working, playing and being amazed by our animals, when something will suddenly bring home the reality of so many lives being lived in misery. Last weekend, Starr Ann read an article by Suzanne Baroud, Children of Gaza, Run to the Angels. And then I read it. And we've been wrestling with the seeming inappropriateness of our own, personal happiness ever since.

But when Starr Ann turned off our cartoons this morning, she had something more useful than guilt to discuss.

She said, "Margo, I've decided to go ahead and watch the inauguration on Tuesday."

I couldn't believe it! We've both been so sickened by the inclusion of Nazi-admiring Rick Warren having a part in the festivities, we'd decided there wasn't much for two gay women to celebrate at the swearing-in ceremony.

Starr Ann could see my surprise, of course, so she explained, "Last night, Jodie and I were discussing the horror in Gaza, and at one point, she got all passionate the way she does, you know? And she just started ranting a little bit, and saying 'What could possibly be worth all that suffering? How is it possible to see those pictures of those bloody, broken babies and not just put down the weapons? Just walk away?' And you know what, Margo? All of a sudden, this feeling came over me, and instead of feeling contempt for the aggressors of the world, I only felt like scouring my whole being for animosity and simply putting it down. Walking away."

I said, "I'm not at all comfortable with that, Starr Ann. It sounds like a recipe for letting the bad guys win. Plus, it makes me start hearing Kumbaya, and you know I hate when that stupid song gets stuck in my head."

Starr Ann said, "Yeah, intellectually, I didn't like that feeling either. And by the time I went to sleep last night, I thought I'd rid myself of it. But this morning, I woke up in the middle of this real frustrating dream."

Goddess, I love the place where Starr Ann's expression shifts to when she starts telling me about one of her dreams.

Her face got all beautiful that way and she continued, "In the dream, I had all these threads lined up parallel to each other." Starr Ann ran her fingers across the sofa seat, showing me how the threads were all lined up even. "And it was understood in the dream that I was supposed to be making cloth out of these threads. Only thing was, as long as I lined them up alongside each other, they stayed loose. And the more threads I lined up, the harder it got to keep control of them, and I was getting real angry over the fact that I was working so hard, but still didn't have any real cloth, just the same old loose threads."

I said, "Well, Starr Ann, it makes sense you'd have frustrating dreams. It's been a disappointing week."

"But listen to this, Margo. All of a sudden, that conversation with Jodie came to my mind in the dream, and when I pictured everybody laying down their weapons, everything seemed clear."

I started humming Kumbaya loud enough for Starr Ann to hear, just so I wouldn't have to be the only one infected with it.

Starr Ann kinda chuckled, and said, "What a jerk you are. Anyway, I started running threads cross-ways to the ones I'd lined up, and all of a sudden, I had cloth."

"Then what?"

"Then I had cloth."

"But what else?"

"Nothing else. It was a dream, silly."

"You're unique, Starr Ann, you know that?"

Starr Ann puffed out her chest, just like she used to do when she was little and proud of something, and said, "Anyway, we voted for the man. We bargained for change. We've entrusted certain decisions to him. If we can't find it in our hearts to lay down the bitterness we feel over Warren, how can we sit here and shake our heads over the fact that other humans can't lay down their bitterness? We're going to watch the inauguration. And we're going to resume hoping. Not blindly, and certainly not without criticism when it's called for."

I said, "Starr Ann, you're getting dangerously close to the phrase, 'Be the peace you'd like to see in the world.'"

Right then, Starr Ann took unfair advantage of my engagement in deep thinking, and tackled me. As she tickled me beyond the ability to speak or breathe, she sang our June Cleaver version of Kumbaya, the way we used to sing it around our campfires when the nuns couldn't hear:

Someones laughing, Ward, kumbaya
Someones laughing, Ward, kumbaya
Someones laughing, Ward, kumbaya
Oh Ward, kumbaya

Someones crying, Ward, kumbaya
Someones crying, Ward, kumbaya
Someones crying, Ward, kumbaya
Oh Ward, kumbaya

Run, Dangergirl, Run!

UPDATE to Like Ice Pain, Only Different

Paladin's tests came back good. That's right! Dr. No is now Dr. Yes. When last seen, Paladin bore remarkable resemblance, in spirit at least, to the picture above.

Right before Paladin rode off in a blaze of libidinal glory, at least three witnesses (Jodie, Starr Ann and me) got a look at her new business cards that read: Have Doctor's Note - Will Travel.

When the dust cleared, Paladin was long gone, and all that remained was an empty Tylenol bottle rolling around in the road.

Everyone here at The Starr Ann Chronicles just wants to say, "Good on ya, Paladin! So glad you're healthy."

This So Totally Begs For A Caption

Hunted Down Like Blogs! (Conclusion)

Last time, Sierra-Dawn, Belle-Saige, Starr Ann and Margo had been captured by a ruthless band of gun-toting bloggers with the ignoble goal of forcing lesbian blogs to go straight.



Righty still wasn't back with those laptops, so Belle-Saige tried to pry some information out of the bad bloggers' ringleader, Jason. She said, "What on Earth gave you varmints the idea you have a right to shutdown all the lesbian blogs?"

Jason didn't even have to stop and think about that one. Just as serious as could be, he said, "Fifty-two percent of the voters in California just made it pretty clear that you people gotta be stopped from tryin' to live alongside us like equals. Now, knowin' like we do that bloggin' is an act of creativity between a man and his computer, or a woman and hers, me and the boys're doin' our part to keep you unnaturals from takin' over the blogosphere."

We could tell Sierra-Dawn had to fight hard to keep from beating the living poop right out of Jason. Controlling her rage real tight, she asked, "And what is it you boys blog about?"

Tommy, the dark quiet one, got animated for the first time and spoke right up. "Mine's called Tread Lightly. It's a blog about tire treads. See? I post a picture of a different tire tread every day, along with the tread's specs, and some examples of the kind of vehicle it should be used on. Then I open the whole thing up for discussion in my comments."

None of us knew quite what to say to that. Even Starr Ann had absolutely nothing.

Jason chuckled and whittled on his stick a little bit more. "Yeah, Tommy, meant to tell you I saw your post yesterday, The Seven Sizes of BF Goodrich g-Force T/A Drag Radial. Nice one, by the way. So, what's with the guy that commented you was gettin' the g-force Radial mixed up with the g-force Super Sport?"

Tommy laughed right along. "Don't ask me, Jason. You know how those Michelin fanatics can be. I just thanked him for his comment and went on with my business."

Jason said he thought that showed a lot of class on Tommy's part.

Just to break the tension, Belle-Saige muttered something insincere about how interesting that sounded.

A few short minutes earlier, we'd have never thought we'd be glad to see Righty coming back with those laptops, but his return was a big relief because when he handed a laptop to each of the bad bloggers, they had to stop their fascinating blog talk and boot up their machines.

Tommy went directly to The Starr Ann Chronicles, Jason himself pulled up Candy Is My Favorite Poison, and Righty clicked his desktop shortcut to Let's Be In Life.

Them being so familiar with our blogs made Starr Ann wonder aloud, "How's it happen you guys have our URLs bookmarked?"

The fourth blogger, Buster, let the others keep working and proudly announced, "We do our homework, little missy. Been visitin' and commentin' on your blogs for months now."


Starr Ann narrowed her eyes. "You're Clarissa Marie, aren't you?"

Buster smiled bigger than you want a man with his teeth to really smile, and said, "At your service. Nice of you to treat me like one o'your team."

Well, what really made me sick was that Clarissa Marie even emailed me once pleading for advice on the nuances of, shall we say, a certain Hitachi appliance. In a way, I was glad I'd passed that one along to Paladin, since she's the expert. In another way, I wasn't looking forward to the conversation where I'd have to tell Paladin she gave, shall we say, confidential tutoring not to Clarissa Marie, but to Buster. Dang. The Internet's a tricky place.

Anyway, once they were all connected to our sites, Jason got real snappy. He said, "Hurry it up, girls, out with your IDs and passwords or this is where things get unpleasant!"

Since the hateful bloggers were sitting side by side, with the four of us lesbians facing them, we had a real good view of the tall dark cowgirl sneaking up behind them, yet they were totally clueless.

In what the rest of us lesbians realized was an effort to give that stealthy cowgirl time to get real close, Sierra-Dawn offerred, "My userid is stupidREDNECK, redneck all in caps."

Righty tapped that in and paused, waiting for the password, which Sierra-Dawn pretended to have trouble remembering. She said, "Password's BigotedSlobs. No, wait! That's my password on Facebook. Um, Blogger password is...um...Asshat!"

Righty tried that and failed to gain access. Heh. He shot Sierra-Dawn a mean look, to which she said, all innocent, "Did you include the exclamation mark?"

Well, that was just enough stalling. That tall dark cowgirl had climbed on top of the boulder behind the bad bloggers and had her pistols pointing right down at 'em. "I must ask you please to move your hands away from your mice."

There was a little confused cussin' on the part of the bad bloggers when they turned around and realized their party was over. In fact, Righty went all white and his eyes rolled back in his head as he just about fainted.

Jason didn't look too good, either, but he was at least able to speak. He said, all terrified, "Who are you?"

In answer, that mysterious cowgirl told Tommy, who had The Starr Ann Chronicles up on his screen, "Mister, if you keep your hand very still, you might not lose it." Then she took aim and squeezed off the most perfect shot any of us ever saw, first skimming the bullet over the mouse wheel just enough to put Tommy's cursor smack dab on top of one of the links. Then the bullet glanced downward with just enough force to click on the link. Immediately, the screen filled up with images of a beautiful cowgirl blog, while off-screen everything around us flooded with color again, and we were sure as anything that the cowgirl pulling off our daring rescue was none other than Wild Flower, from Cowgirl's Land.



We all yelled, "Dang!"

You could tell the bad bloggers were eaten up with rage as the five of us lesbians made introductions all around and traded several sincere compliments concerning each other's blogs. Once that was done, we had ourselves a dilemma. None of us had the stomach to actually tie those boys up so we could make our escape. An experience like that could ruin a girl forever regarding the use of restraints, if you get my drift.

Wild Flower squared her shoulders and said, "I have the solution, if you don't mind."

Her plan was brilliant! Wild Flower held her gun on those bad bloggers and ordered them to uninstall all their firewalls, remove their virus protections, and nix their key scramblers. Once their laptops were all naked and vulnerable, Wild Flower delivered her final punch. She said, "Please, would you now go to your SPAM folders, open the emails one by one, and download the attachments they have inside."

Last we saw of those lesbiaphobic bloggers, they were crying like babies, flailing around on their keyboards, trying desperately to stop the destruction.

Wild Flower just looked around at our smiling faces and said, "Heh."

Then Sierra-Dawn whistled and hollered out, "Lickety Split!"

In unison, the rest of us said, "Lick a what?"

Then we had a good laugh when Sierra-Dawn's horse came racing up to her and Sierra-Dawn explained, "My horse, girls! Her name's Lickety Split."

There was one more little delay while Belle-Saige brushed her hair. Seems she'd been totally distracted ever since the ruckus, when she was just positive her hair got slightly messed up.

As we rode off with a beautiful sunset at our backs, I said to Wild Flower, "Well, my fearless friend, seems we'll get to share that bottle of Wild Turkey a lot sooner than we ever dreamed."

Then Starr Ann, that evil thing, had to go and tell everybody how I came this close to mailing a bottle of bourbon to Wild Flower over in Madrid. How was I supposed to know the postal service considers it a felony to mail hard liquor?

When Starr Ann finished her story, Wild Flower said, "Margo, if you are in the sheriff's jail for anything, I will bring this whole Posse and we will break you free."

Dang! Walking away from bad guys sure is empowering. Wild Flower sounded like she could just about conquer the world.

Starr Ann said, "Speaking of the Posse, I guess you all know you'd be a real welcome addition, if you agree to join us."

Belle-Saige, Sierra-Dawn and Wild Flower all said, "Dang!"

Hunted Down Like Blogs! (Part 2)

Last time, a desperate gang of ruthless bloggers hellbent on running all lesbians clear off the Internet had just caught up to Belle-Saige, Sierra-Dawn, Starr Ann and Margo.


Guess we'll never know what tipped them off that we were hunkered down behind those big rocks, but that nasty gang of bad blogger men pulled their horses up short, drew their six shooters and jumped behind another bunch of boulders not far from us. Who'd've thought bullets really do make that zinging sound as they glance off stone right beside your head?



So, first thing we all did was make sure our heads were nowhere near the edges of the boulders.

Sierra-Dawn said, "Margo! Starr Ann! Y'all got some way of summoning The Posse? Sure would be a good time to see all those hot-on-the-trail women kicking up a dust cloud in this direction."

Over those singing bullets and the sound of rock chips hitting the ground, Starr Ann hollered, "Well, we usually just call 'em on the phone, but Margo kinda got...water in the phone this morning."

In the middle of all that ruckus, and all that danger, Belle-Saige still had the critical wherewithal to put her hands on her hips and look at me like she'd known me a couple of decades. "You dropped it in the commode, didn't you?"

Dang! The Posse can use a woman with that kinda intuition! Right about the exact second I was making a mental note to ask both her and Sierra-Dawn if they'd ride in the Posse (given we survived the current difficulties, that is) the shooting stopped.

One thing I never realized before is how extra quiet everything gets right after four six shooters quit firing.

Starr Ann whispered real soft, "They must be out of ammunition."

Belle-Saige whispered, "Either that or they're reloading."

Slow as could be, Sierra-Dawn raised her eyes to the upper part of the biggest boulder we were crouched behind. When her gaze reached the top of it, she said, "Or sneaking up on us and seeing we don't have guns."

We all looked up, and sure enough, there were those bad bloggers, all bellied out on the top of that rock, smiling down at us real unfriendly.

Starr Ann said to me very quietly, almost without even moving her lips, "Bet you anything one of 'em's named Lefty."

The ringleader said, "Well, looky thar, boys. The poor little lesbian bloggers seem to be unarmed." Then they hopped off that rock and tried to stare Sierra-Dawn and Belle-Saige down, but that wasn't gonna happen.



Finally, Starr Ann stepped between them and said, "What's up with you people anyway?"

The leader laughed. "Nothin' much." Then he signaled to one of the other men and said, "Get the laptops out of my saddlebag, Righty."

Righty said, "Sure thing, Jason."

While Righty got the laptops, Jason informed us, "Now, what we're gonna need from you lesbians is your userids and blog passwords. Turn those over nice and sweet, nobody gets hurt." Jason grinned wide from behind his stubbly beard. "See, me and the boys're gonna change up your blogs a little, make ya into decent folk." He pointed his empty gun at Starr Ann. "I think I'll let Tommy over there write up a post on The Starr Ann Chronicles where Starr Ann sees the light and gets herself hooked up with a man, a real man." He thought a second, scratching his jaw the whole time. "You," he looked right at Belle-Saige, "I'm afraid you're going to write a farewell post on Candy Is My Favorite Poison, telling everybody how you've decided to go straight, give up your writing altogether and become a middle manager in the first corporation that meets your monetary demands." Dang, that man had a diabolical laugh, which he gave full rein for a few seconds before telling Sierra-Dawn, "Think we'll have you admit on Let's Be In Life that you never even liked women in the first place." Looking real hard at me, Jason finally said, "Moon, you're not only gonna profess a latent and insatiable attraction for big hunky hairy men, you're going to denounce Tina Fey once and for all."

Sierra-Dawn folded her arms across her chest and spoke for the four of us when she growled, "Not on our lives!"


To Be Concluded

But while you're waiting for the conclusion, why not ride on over to Reef's new blog, wordspinner, and leave a comment so she knows you been there?

Hunted Down Like Blogs!

My best friend Starr Ann (hi, Starr Ann) and I were out for a leisurely ride when the horses got kinda antsy and we all of a sudden saw this old deserted barn in the distance. Closer we got to that old barn, the more surreal things got. By the time we were almost to it, the lighting had gone almost all the way black and white.

Not only that, but a rider off to the West was closing in on us awful fast. Turned out to be a woman who looked real worried about something.



She introduced herself as Belle-Saige and said her horse's name was Blaise. We told her we were real happy to meet her, although the menacing air and Belle-Saige's obvious distress, not to mention the fact that the color had drained right out of everything, made it kinda hard to be all that happy about anything.

It took no time for Belle-Saige to confirm that fear was the appropriate emotion for the moment. Looking over her shoulder in the direction she'd rode in from, she said, "Look, I'm being followed...chased, actually...by some awful bad men."

Starr Ann put on that one tone of voice, the one that makes you feel real calm even when things are tense. "Now, Belle-Saige, why don't you tell Margo and me all about it. Maybe we can help."

Belle-Saige looked startled, and said all fast and snappy, "Margo! Did you say Margo? And what's your name, gorgeous?"

Starr Ann said, "Starr Ann."

Belle-Saige looked even more startled. "Good Goddess! Starr Ann and Margo Moon? From The Starr Ann Chronicles?"

We both nodded.

Belle-Saige started shaking our hands real hard and talking quick, still looking behind her. "It's a pleasure to meet you two, but I sure wish the circumstances were better. I'm M.M. Sugar from Candy Is My Favorite Poison!"

Starr Ann said, "Dang."

I said, "Dang."

Belle-Saige went on to tell us that there was a rotten bunch of male bloggers stampeding all over the place, trying to snuff out lesbian blogs once and for all. That's who was chasing her.

Starr Ann and I said, "Dang!"

Belle-Saige started searching the horizon ahead of us. "We have to ride like we've never rode before, girls! Those ornery cusses can't be far behind me now. In fact, I'm surprised they aren't already on top of us."

Starr Ann and I saddled up and we all took off. Four minutes of hard riding later, we got to worrying the horses needed a rest, so we stopped and ducked behind some huge boulders. Right away, we heard hoofbeats bearing down on us.

Peeping around one of the boulders for a look-see, Belle-Saige said, "Lone rider! And it's a woman!"

Well, that woman would have flown right on past us if Belle-Saige hadn't selflessly jumped out in the open to flag her down. Dang, but bravery is invigorating!

This woman did a fancy dismount while her horse was still on the move. And she had that same anxious look on her face that we all had.



Gulping air like she was drowning, she said, "Bloggers! Bad ones! Right on my tail!"

Once we were all back hidden behind the rocks, Starr Ann somehow managed the soothing voice again to make introductions.

The new rider said, "Very proud to finally meet you all face to face. I'm Sierra-Dawn, known in the lesbian blog universe, or Blesbiaverse as I like to call it, as Rose from Let's Be In Life."

Starr Ann, Belle-Saige and I all three said, "Dang!"

Turns out, Sierra-Dawn was being hounded by the same bad men that were chasing Belle-Saige. While we were all getting acquainted, Sierra-Dawn scouted around the side of those boulders and froze stock still. She whistled through her teeth and said, "Girls, unless there's a dust storm moving in from the exact direction where I last saw those bad bloggers, we got ourselves some trouble. Big trouble."

By the time we all got in position to peek around those rocks, here's what we saw:



All four of us said, "Dang!"


To be continued...

Announcing Our New Year's Resolution

It's A Brand New Baby Year!

Maybe if we give it lots of love,


and space to grow,

and hold on real tight,

maybe it'll keep its claws to itself.

Rapid Release - STAT!

Rose from Let's Be In Life just had these sent to the ranch for Lori by special courier. We're hoping like heck they do the job. And the happy couple is prolly hoping like heck the label refers to the Tylenol and not to Lori's...performance.

Happy New Year!!!!!

Is That Tylenol In Your Pocket, Or Am I Just Glad To See You?

[The only way this post is going to make sense is if you read this one first, and then this one Thanks!]


There it is. A partial copy of the actual referral form to the neurologist. Plain as anything, it says "orgasmic headaches." Although the pluralization's a little misleading. She's only had the one.

I was home alone when Lor--Paladin's call came through after her neurologist appointment.

"Hello?"

"It's Lori."

"I thought we had to call you Paladin now?"

"I decided that doesn't have to strictly start until the New Year."

"Cool."

Then Lori got right to the point, like she's prone to do. "I just got out of the appointment with Dr. No, and he wants me to not have an orgasm until all the tests are done and back in TWO WEEKS."

"No way am I believing that the doctor who's restricting you from sex for two whole weeks is named 'Dr. No.'"

"Well, it's spelled all fancy, but it's pronounced 'no.'"

"So what did you say?"

"I said I didn't think that was a reasonable expectation. To which he said, 'Don't you have any self control?' To which I said 'NO.'"

I said, "Did he think you were screaming his own name at him?"

"Look, Margo, let's not let this whole thing deteriorate into a lame version of Who's On First, okay?"

Dang! Lori really knows me too well.

So, from what I gather, Lori whined and moaned to Dr. No until he threw out a suggestion that maybe, if she took Tylenol about 30 minutes beforehand, maybe it would be okay to go ahead and have an orgasm. But he added that if she got that piercing head pain again, she should go to the ER like the last time.

Anyway, when Starr Ann got home and I brought her up to date, she had herself an idea. Starr Ann suggested we surprise those two lovebirds by paying to have an ambulance on standby while they...you know. She thought the EMTs could just kinda go in the house and have a snack or watch a movie or something while Lori and Dangergirl...you know...in the ambulance.

Starr Ann swears with a portable CD player, some plush material, and a few candles, she can transform this



into this

That girl can make anything romantic!

Only thing is, it turns out ambulance time is real expensive. So, if anybody wants to pitch in, just let us know, okay? Thanks!

Oh, and Starr Ann wanted me to dedicate this to Lori.

Caption This, Cowpokes

Update on - Like Ice Pain, Only Different

[This will only make sense after you go back and read the post before this one]

Starr Ann’s the one who answered the phone when Lori, I mean Paladin, called after her doctor visit. Starr Ann said, “What’s the verdict?” Then she listened a few seconds before saying, “Oh, that’s awful.” Only thing is, Starr Ann kinda looked like she was trying to keep from laughing.

That didn’t seem quite right. Jodie and I moved in a little bit closer to Starr Ann and the phone with Lori, I mean Paladin, on the other end. Then Starr Ann asked, “How long do you have?” Jodie and I just about collapsed. Poor Paladin. Real slow, Starr Ann said, “Until December 31? That’s just awful!”

I hate listening to phone conversations where you can only hear Starr Ann’s side. I had to take that phone away from that girl. Very sweetly, I said, “Hi, Lor-- Paladin. Now what were you telling Starr Ann?”

Not wanting to do to Jodie what Starr Ann had done to both of us, as soon as I got the lowdown from Paladin, I immediately relayed it to Jodie. I cupped my hand around the phone and whispered real loud, “She’s okay. Something called ‘orgasmic headache.’ Then I listened again a little bit and said, “They’re sending her to a neurologist on December 31. She’s not allowed to have an orgasm until after the neurologist.” At that point, I couldn’t really stay on the phone any longer without cracking up, so I shoved the thing to Jodie.

Real serious, Jodie said, “What else did they tell you…Paladin?” Then Lori talked a few seconds and it was easy to see Jodie was about to lose it, because as she repeated the next part, her phone hand was shaking out of sympathy with her belly, which was going up and down with these fast spasms from trying to hold in the laughter. Anyway, she whispered, “When her doctor told her about the December 31^st thing, Paladin’s face must have dropped, because the doc took one look at her and said, ‘New relationship?’ and all poor Paladin could do was nod real sad.”

After that, Jodie was basically used up as far as being able to finish that phone conversation. Starr Ann was the only one left who could talk without bursting into tears or getting a laugh cramp.

First thing after Starr Ann got possession of the phone again, her eyes got all round and big. “No kidding! Well, you know Paladin, just because you have the prescription from Hell, doesn’t mean Dangergirl has to take the same medicine, if you get my drift.” Starr Ann can be so thoughtful. She listened a little bit more and said, “Oh, you are?” Then Starr Ann actually let Jodie and me in on what was said. She whispered, “Paladin’s not calling her Dangergirl anymore. It’s SuperDangergirl.”

When Starr Ann got off the phone, of course we had to put up with how she wanted to get all situated and cozy in the living room with hot cups of holiday tea before telling us the rest.

Seems the odds are overwhelmingly in favor of Lori never having another orgasm headache. The neurologist is prolly going to schedule an MRI to make double, triple, quadruple sure about no bleeding or anything, but it’s highly unlikely.

Starr Ann said Lori plans to stop by Happy Hands Ranch on her way home, just so she can tell us all the details of what the doctor said. And to show us pictures of her CAT scan. The one that proves SuperDangergirl blew her mind.

Poor Paladin. Starr Ann, that evil thing, is already making a special Christmas mix composed of every version of “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” she can find. I think that’s mean.

When Paladin gets here, we have so much to ask her! I want to know exactly what it felt like (the headache). Jodie wants to see the paperwork, just to see if they actually wrote 'orgasmic headache' on her diagnosis. And Starr Ann, being Starr Ann, wants to get permission to question SuperDangergirl about past girlfriends and their headache histories.

Anyway, tomorrow I'll post everything we find out.

Like Ice Pain, Only Different

Okay, so the important thing to remember during this whole episode (and my best friend Starr Ann agrees with me one hundred percent on this) is that it really isn't funny. Well, it's funny, but we have to keep in mind that it's serious too. Kinda.

First a little background information. Our friend and neighbor, Lori "Paladin" Hahn, recently had herself a self-imposed spell of celibacy. Let me tell you, none of us ever wants to go through that again! Anyway, when her sixty days were almost up, she ran a contest on her blog to see who could write the best singles ad for her. And I actually won! I got a T-shirt to prove it.

So, Lori (let's just call her Paladin from here on out) ran the ad and it got her some dates, but meanwhile, forces were acting behind the scenes to bring her a girlfriend the old fashioned, non-Internet way. They simply met through a mutual friend. How analog.

Now, to hear Paladin tell it, this woman (let's call her Dangergirl, because that's what Paladin calls her) is, all in one sitting: hot, beautiful, smart, witty, and owns a hot tub. In short, everything Paladin ever wanted, and more.

Well, nobody's heard a lot from Paladin over there at Hahn at Home for a few days and Starr Ann, Jodie and I figured she was just busy with Dangergirl and having family in town for the holidays.

End of background information.

This morning, Starr Ann, Jodie and I were out for a morning ride, and guess who we passed on the road? Yep! Paladin and Rusty, her faithful steed.

Starr Ann said, "Hey, Lori, did you Hahns have a nice Christmas?"

"Actually, I'm going by Paladin now, Starr Ann. And yes, it was lovely!"

I said, "So, wanna ride with us for a while?"

"Nah. I'm on my way to see the doc, but thanks."

Jodie's the most nurturing one of the three of us, and she said, "Doc? You okay, Lori? Er, you okay, Paladin?"

Right then, Paladin did that one thing she does where she takes in air through her teeth and it makes a sound you just get used to knowing means she's about to say something that requires delicate wording. "Actually, it's a follow-up to my emergency room visit last night."

I'm just gonna cut to the chase here. Last night, Christmas night, Paladin and Dangergirl were celebrating their lesbianism in the most special manner when all of a sudden, this horrible pain knifed its way through Lori's Paladin's head. It was unbearable for a few seconds, then settled down to a plain old bad headache. Maybe I was too tactful there. Let me try again. The pain shot through right at the moment of truth. Know what I mean? Good.

Then, after Dangergirl leaves, Lori sneaks off to the emergency room to get herself checked out. They did a CAT scan, looking for evidence there'd been any brain bleeding, but found none. Dang. That was misleading. They did find a brain (although the lesbian usage "her brains were out" did, reportedly, apply).

Then, after Paladin was all sedated, they wanted her to sign the okay to have a needle stuck in her spine to draw off some fluid and check it for blood. Apparently, the CAT scan is only 91% accurate in these cases.

Paladin ain't nobody's fool, though, and she took a pass on the needle thingy. So when we met up with her, she was on the way to her doctor to discuss what to do next. We all offered to go with her to the doc, because that's what friends do, and also because we wanted to secretly record the part where Lori Paladin told the doctor what was transpiring at the time of this incredible bolt of head pain.

Anyway, we're waiting to hear what the doctor says and intend to report the whole thing as soon as we know something. Paladin said we could write about it. Because her mom reads her blog. Heh.

Life - Ride It Like You Stole It!

************* Happy Holidays To All Our Friends *********

Crashing To Earth

I am by nature an idealist. It's really, really hard to get me to see the glass as anything but overflowing. But okay, I give.

Gay hater Rick Warren will be trashing up the inauguration next month. As I read the news a few minutes ago, my eyes started stinging and I couldn't keep from crying. I just emailed a friend who had intended to go to Washington, already had the room booked. He wants to cancel.

Only those who shared in the post-election euphoria could possibly understand how sad this news is.

Since The Starr Ann Chronicles needs to be written from a happy place full of heroes and hope, we're closing up shop for a while to figure out how to feel that way again.

Blast From The Past

Well, seein' as we've picked up some new cowgirls around here since last year, it's prolly legal to get some new mileage out of a variation on an earlier post.



My best friend Starr Ann has the best whisper. Some people get too much wind in their whisper, making the s's all hissy and their breath hot in your ear. Some leave too much vocal cord in it, so it's way too loud and hardly whispery at all. Not Starr Ann. When Starr Ann whispers, her breath feels like a light breeze that might have blown across fresh-cut grass, and it sounds like she just melted butterscotch in her mouth.

So, last night, as I was about to drop off to sleep, Starr Ann sneaked into the room and eased in bed beside me. I knew what was going to happen next, and kept myself as still as possible without being rigid. This time I was determined to make her believe I was already asleep. Very deeply asleep.

Starr Ann got up as close as she dared and whispered, "You awake, Margo?"

I squirmed a tiny bit and mumbled nonsense.

After that, Starr Ann very patiently waited for my breathing to get all regular again before making her next move. Somehow, I kept my heartbeat under control.

Five whole minutes later (Starr Ann was being real scientific and disciplined about it this time), she pushed her face toward me and continued. "Do you know I love you, Margo?"

"Mmmm."

"Margo, who's this you're talking to?"

"Uuuh, mmm, Starr Ann."

"Good. Now, do you know I love you?"

"Uh huh."

"Margo, what are you getting me for Christmas?"

Now, this is the critical moment. This is usually where my eyes fly open and I read Starr Ann the riot act over trying to trick me into revealing what her present is. But, no. I had been preparing for this all year. This time I would fool her good.

So, she was braced for me to explode, but I just mumbled inconherently again. I could tell by the way Starr Ann's body tensed a little bit then relaxed that she was very encouraged.

She whispered, "It's perfectly okay. You can tell me. What's my Christmas present this year?"

I kinda tossed my head from side to side and garbled out the words, "Shouldn't say."

Goddess! She was falling for the whole act. She gave it a few more seconds so I could settle again before saying, real smooth, like she thought she was hypnotizing me or something. "Go ahead, baby, tell me what it is. You are supposed to tell Starr Ann what her present is. Now, what are you getting me for Christmas?"

I hesitated, then rolled my head in a way that said I was wrestling with myself over whether to do it. Finally, I said, "Jodie knows." Goddess, I'm good!

Starr Ann didn't say another word. Simply rolled gingerly off the bed and started putting her chaps on. She was no doubt heading directly over to Jodie's place to extract the precious information from her. Of course, I had not told Jodie what I'm getting Starr Ann, so Jodie was in for an interesting night.

Starr Ann was absolutely pleased with herself. She was so happy, with herself and me, that the whole time she adjusted her chaps she sang, very softly, a song that she once caught me singing the wrong words to. For some reason, when Starr Ann is feeling a surge of affection for me, she sometimes sings that song, Donuts make my brown eyes blue.

And then, in a totally predictable Starr Ann move, even though she'd come in by my bedroom door, she slipped out the window. I heard the barn door a few minutes later, and then the hoofbeats of Oatmeal, her trusty steed.

I stayed awake a long time, sending halfway apologetic thoughts to Jodie and humming Elton John's Candle In The Wind, which I once caught Starr Ann singing the wrong lyrics to. Last words in my mind as I fell asleep were, Goodbye normal genes.

Heh

Washed in the Blood

The minute I realized Starr Ann had done a jeans load of laundry in hot water, I knew she was going to make us go to the gun show. According to Starr Ann, there's the cold-water jeans tightness that's just right for doing chores and being around normal people. Then there's the hot-water jeans tightness that helps you fit in amongst rednecks.

At least I'm familiar enough with Starr Ann's ways that I accepted our fate right away. Poor Jodie still entertains these nebulous notions that one of these days she'll actually change Starr Ann's mind once it's made up. Heh. Wasted effort.

Jodie made a good run at it, though, I had to admit. She said, "Now Starr Ann, darlin', wouldn't you much rather spend Friday night cozied up on my couch with a fire going in the fireplace, a pot of spicy veggie stew on the stove, and hot bread baking in the oven? I could make all that happen, you know."

Starr Ann entertained those images for a second, all wide-eyed and everything, before saying, "It's kind of like the way you insist we all read the National Review, American Conservative and Weekly Standard, Jodie. Know the enemy. Study them where they live, and all that, remember? Knowledge is power. It's important to understand what makes these people tick. And tock."

"But sweetheart, that convention center holds something like 20,000 people. That's gonna be at least 19,998 pairs of smoker lungs exhaling in a closed environment. And if just one third of those lungs belong to women, we'll have the bonus of being enclosed with around 6,000 smokers who've doused themselves in perfume in hopes of covering the nicotine smell, and you know we don't want to expose ourselves to that special hell, right baby?"

Starr Ann took a determined breath. "A bunch of the attendees will be kids who are just pre-smokers, so you need to adjust your numbers down a little for that."

Well, that led to a big long explanation about how hunting is marketed as a family sport and it's legal for real little kids to hunt, which flabbergasted Jodie. We had to fire up the Internet to prove to her we weren't kidding about that part.

So, we covered up the Obama sticker on our truck with a sticker that said Gun Control Means Using Both Hands and arrived at the South Wing of the Kentucky Exposition Center just in time to hear a passionate presentation titled "The Evils of Terrorist Extremists" delivered by a fairly good-sized man wearing a T-shirt with There's Nothing That Can't Be Solved With The Use Of High Explosives written on the front and back.

Jodie looked like she was ready to bolt right then and there, so I whispered to her, "Remember now, they're not gonna hurt us. The hot-water jeans, not to mention the way Starr Ann had us do our hair, always triggers a one-of-them response, so we're just fine." Jodie reached up and touched her hair, then looked at mine again like she could barely take her eyes off it.

Right then, Starr Ann saw the look on Jodie's face and as the man was wrapping up his presentation, Starr Ann promised Jodie real quiet, "Stick with this for at least an hour, and we won't force ourselves to go to even one professional wrestling match or truck pull all summer, okay?"

Well, that gave Jodie and me both something to work toward! We tried hard to make the rest of the night go smooth. And we almost succeeded. Of course, there were a couple of rough moments.

At one point, these three bubbas who were all juiced up on tobacco juice got to following us around and started saying things kinda loud about us being three girls there alone. Unless you know Jodie, you have no idea what it took for her to keep herself from unloading both barrels (sorry, but I've just been to a gun show, okay?) on them over the supreme stupidity of the phrase "three women alone."

Starr Ann really does her homework, though. She got rid of those guys real fast by saying, "Oh, you all look like you know your way around. Can you tell us where three girls could buy fake hero medals and stuff for their men?"

Those ol' boys looked awful satisfied about taking charge. One said, "That'd be whatcha call yer militaria, clear over there at the militaria booths."

Starr Ann said thanks and we took off in the direction he pointed.

Only other close call was a little something that almost sparked up over by the knife exhibits, but that time it was the music that came to our rescue. It happened right at the second when things could have turned ugly over the fact that I said just a tiny bit too loud to Jodie, "If morons are outlawed, only outlaws will have morons." I was getting punchy from being at a gun show, okay?

Anyway, some of their faces quit smiling and it looked for a second like we were about to be in trouble when the music, which had been playing too loud all night, hit a refrain that made most of the place stop and pay attention with these real fervent looks on their faces. It went:

I wanna know if he's washed in the Blood
Or just in the water,
Before I give him
My only daughter.

Dang, and us lesbians complain about having a unique dating scene!

As we were leaving the expo, Jodie confided that she wasn't a hundred percent comfortable with her reaction to that Martina McBride song about the daughter and mother who burn down their house with the abusive husband/father still inside. I said I find myself kinda pumped up over the rush of revenge when I hear that song, too.

We both looked at Starr Ann, expecting her to admit she gets just a little fired up over that one, but all the evil thing said was, "You have faced your inner redneck. My work is done."

I hate it when she gets all fake superior like that.

Anyway, remember the sacred mantra of gun enthusiasts: Safety First.

Caption This, Cowgirls

Flash Fiction

STOPPING

Captain Cordin spotted Airman Kessin’s foot dangling from the doorless cockpit of a two-seater Cessna in the otherwise empty maintenance hangar. “Working on Sunday?”

Emily Kessin’s black combat boot stiffened at the ankle, then she eased her head from beneath the pilot’s console. She sat up and plinked her wrench onto a red rag beside her hip. Tears blurred Emily's view of Catherine Cordin, whose own reddened eyes filled up again.

The captain took the copilot seat, looking cautiously at hydraulic jacks supporting the plane’s fuselage. “This thing stable?”

Emily stared straight through the pilot’s windshield at gray hangar wall. “It’s fine. Look, Catherine, even if you weren’t straight, married and an officer-”

Captain Cordin finished for her. “You’d still love your girlfriend, and you’re committed.” She tried to suppress how her hands shook. "Once it’s gone this far, to admitting it, I mean, do people really stop?”

Smiling squeezed teardrops all over Emily’s cheeks. “These two people, you and I will.”

“You're going to tell her, aren’t you?”

“I’d want her to tell me. Makes it easier, that you and I haven't even touched. Will you tell him?”

"No." Catherine bent forward and put her face in her palms. When she uncovered it, new determination shown there. “Yes, these two people will stop. But first, I get five minutes. For five minutes we will sit here together, alone, with it in the open.”

At the hangar door, the captain watched the airman’s foot dangle from the cockpit.

© 2006 Margo Moon