An Aries (Who Knows Some Stuff)
Call off the dogs of war. Call off the folksingers and protesters. Sugar has been busted out of The Compound by her two moms. I have proof!
And Marika, thank you so much for the new toys you sent back with The Brides. They have been greatly enjoyed. I have proof!
Margot loves the bunny; Sugar loves the pheasant; Guinness steals the bunny.
June 13, 2009
MEMO
To: The Mamas
From: Sugar
Re: My Unfortunate Incarceration
Rumor has it that you two may be home late tonight, so I might be extending my “staycation” at The Compound another day. This is completely unacceptable, as I’ve now figured out that while you’re frolicking on Florida’s white sandy beaches, I’m actually in jail. As you can see by the photo to your left, not only are there bars, but in a week of ninety-degree temps, I’ve been forced to “sunbathe.” This is NOT a beach. It’s a field of dead grass. Just because I’m lying on it doesn’t mean I like it. It’s DEAD GRASS!
And it’s only the beginning of what I’ve had to endure. My captors say they’re giving us treats, and while they make my captors’ eyes water, they do smell and taste mighty delicious to me. However, get a good look at the container they’re in, borrowed from the man we know as “Tim”:
HELLO? I am not a cat.
Also, any photographic evidence making it appear that I’m getting rest is totally fabricated. First, I stay on constant vigil at “Rex TV” trying to alert the nonstop flow of pedestrian traffic by my barking that I’m being held prisoner. So far, no man, woman, beast, mail carrier, Fedex man, UPS woman, or the plumber have done one damn thing to help me. We truly have become a society of those who look the other way.
My captors have tried to convince me that everything they do is for the good of my health. Look! Vitamins!
But even these are meant to break my spirit. Look closer at the label:
“SENIOR?” HELLO? I am NOT a senior!
Oh, sure. They’ve been giving me my sixteen ounces of delicious raw food every night at 6:30 p.m. just like you do. And when I ran out, they even took the money you left and bought more chicken necks and gizzards and wings, just like you buy. But then there are the other things they’ve tried to make me ingest. Like veggie cubes! HELLO? I am NOT a vegetarian!
I will admit that I’m intrigued by this “plain yogurt.” I’m not saying I like it. I’m saying I lick every bit of it off my food before I eat because I’m trying to decide if it’s poison or not. The other prisoners seem to really like it. Maybe it’s some kind of addictive substance the captors use to make us docile and prevent attempts at overthrowing them or escaping. I’ll continue to examine this substance closely. With my tongue.
Do you think this couch makes my butt look fat?
During my entire “staycation,” I haven’t spent time with my friend Rexford. He’s being held in a different part of The Compound with another prisoner who may be a Republican. At least they keep calling him “Maverick.” I’m pretty sure the captors are keeping Rex, Maverick, and me apart because they fear our combined power. I have glimpsed them through the Rex TV screen. (Maverick doesn’t look anything like John McCain except for some spots.) It’s possible that the two of them are plotting an escape with the help of the guy everyone calls “The Gnome.” If this happens, I hope Rexford knows I’m trapped inside the Big House with Margot and Guinness.
Mostly, I pretend to rest and go along with whatever the captors want, but I think the following photos make it clear that I’m a ball of stress while I wait for you two to break me out of here.
It’s not like there are many diversions. Not even once have I been offered a “red dot,” and the toys! Look at the pathetic condition of them. Margot and Guinness say it’s not their fault the toys are in this state, and I tend to believe them. Margot mostly stays under the bed writing emo poetry about the deplorable conditions here, and Guinness walks around in circles and bites her butt. Apparently, a family they call “the Fosters” are the ones who’ve gotten the toys in this condition, mainly the brothers Tyson and Dexter, but also this “Maverick” guy.
You know, I’m not normally one to complain, but last night was the final indignity. I was finally catching some real ZZZZZs with the other prisoners while the male captor known as “Tom” was guarding us. By guarding, I mean he was on the bed, too, pretending to sleep by closing his eyes and fake snoring. Suddenly I was rudely awakened by flashing lights when the captor known as “Becky” came in with that torture device known as “the camera.” (I’m sure I don’t have to explain the cruelty of this machine to you, as the two of you have about ten of them now, don’t you?) After subjecting me to its bright lights, she crawled into bed. But instead of confining herself to her allotted two-foot-square space as the prisoners had to be content with, she kept shifting and nudging and turning and muttering. I have never had to endure such torment in my life!
Please spring me out of this joint soon. I fear that waterboarding may be in my future, although I’m sure my captors will call it “a bath.”
Your daughter,
Sugar
Sunbathers and their glamour shots:
Guinness
Sugar
Here at The Compound, a/k/a The Sluggery, I’m not really being a slug. Since I don’t have the stamina to write anything interesting or imaginative, here’s a list that you can ignore or not, as you wish.
I posted a couple of photos from New Orleans to the Moo Sisters group.
I’ve rewritten the same chapter four times. So far, it’s not setting my imagination on fire. It will when I find the right tone. This is just a whole new kind of character for me to write. I want to do right by her.
Tim and I saw UP on Monday. I really liked it. What is it about a few notes of “When You Wish Upon a Star” that always brings out the happy kid in me?
I had a mysterious onset of severe pain about the time we went to New Orleans. It got progressively worse over the last three weeks. It’s now just as mysteriously going away. The body is a wonderful thing.
The Brides are in Florida. Sugar is staying at The Compound. The first night, my sleep schedule drove her crazy. Now she pays no attention to it at all, just does her thing. She has cuddled with me a couple of times. It took Sugar a long time to relax with me, so I like this very much. Sugar, Margot, and Guinness have always gotten along. The girls treat her just like they treat each other–total acceptance. I plan to get some photos of them tomorrow so if Lindsey and Rhonda check in, they can see Sugar living it up at The Compound.
Maverick and Rex are COMEDIANS. I’ve been online so little that I didn’t even know Tim had changed his LJ banner. I love the new photo, especially Rex’s happy grin.
I found a photo of Tom holding Rex in May of 2001 when Rex was living with his first family. He still gets this same stoned/disgruntled look on his face when Tom holds him like this; he just has a lot more leg now.
I’ve been trying to get a photo of Maverick’s ginormous ears from behind, because they are adorably speckled. He doesn’t sit still very long, so photographing him is hit or miss. I ADORE this dog.
I’m reading and enjoying Michael Thomas Ford’s novel Changing Tides. I’m so glad I read Steinbeck’s Cannery Row last year for the first time, because that’s giving me another level to appreciate Ford’s story.
Still going to the gym three to five times a week and adding more to what I do every week. I always whine about the getting there, but I love the being there.
I’m working on another project. So far, I’ve been really pleased with it. Monday night, NOT AT ALL. Much went into the trash and I will start afresh Tuesday. Come to think of it, sounds a lot like my new writing effort.
I have this file for my e-mail called “Pending–Needs Attention.” I just checked it, something I obviously rarely do. I have mail I haven’t responded to dating back to December 2006. So if you think I’ve been ignoring you, I have. I suck. I’ll try to answer some of those, along with a bunch of TJB mail, in the next few days. Don’t be surprised if you suddenly get mail from me referencing some request you don’t even remember.
Rex and Maverick are tearing through the house like crazy beasts. They’ve knocked the fan over, tossed pillows off the bed, pulled quilts from atop the windowseat, and jostled a book from the coffee table. See why I can’t answer mail? I’m too busy laughing at dogs. (Guinness and Margot are not laughing. They’re so prim.)
Lynne answered my summons plea to come to dinner Tuesday night. I hadn’t seen her for a while, and I missed her. And then, Nikon People, those of you who implanted a chip in my brain, luring me to the Dark Side and making me do your bidding, I went with her to Houston Camera Co-op and she ended up with this purchase:
Lynne and her D-60.
I hope you’re all satisfied.
I should SO be asleep. Tomorrow’s another big day for me at the Saints and Sinners Literary Festival because I have the honor of moderating a panel. It’s been a fantastic few days filled with meeting new people, reconnecting with old friends, enjoying the charms of New Orleans, and most of all, being awed all over again by the talent of the contributors to FOOL FOR LOVE after their reading on Saturday.
I love writers. I feel so honored to be among them.
I have stories and photos to come, of course. I miss reading all of you! I also miss the dogs and Tom, and I understand once more how fortunate I am to have a husband who supports my career in every way.
To be continued…
Happy birthday, dogrl! Mmmmmm, giant birthday cake!
See you in a few days, Lisa!
Tim tried to warn me when we were in the grocery store. Those aerosol cans aren’t easy to control, he said. But did I listen? No. I was pressed for time. I went for the quick solution.
Here’s Rex sneering at my efforts. Or because he couldn’t do a taste test.
Sitting here all haggard and bleary-eyed after a serious lack of sleep. A certain dog whose initials are Guinness was having some kind of issue that meant she paced or walked in circles all night. She was still doing it this morning, but now seems to be okay. I’ll keep an eye on her today, just in case. What I don’t get is: WHY do dogs always get actin’-crazy-sick in the middle of the night, forcing a refrain of emergency vet? wait it out? emergency vet? wait it out? to run through people’s minds for hours when they should be sleeping?
Guinness’s ordeal gave me time to look over some of my favorite photos and think of some of my favorite moments from last week. Even though I was sick most of the week (nobody took me to the emergency vet, either), it was still a good time.
This is just a photo I took while I was downtown watching the mad rush at the post office on tax day. Houston is a fun city to shoot at night, because though we have skyscrapers, there’s lots of space between them.
It was a week of wonderful things for some friends. venusunfolding moved into his new home with Matt. I’m looking forward to photos as they get settled in. And I’m wondering if our torrential rainstorms over the weekend made their move a soggy adventure.
davidpnyc finished his MFA thesis! One day I’m sure I’ll be buying the novel that will come out of it. Congratulations again, David.
I’m thinking I might live. I was able to eat two things Friday, plus I went to the gym. Tons of thunderstorms rolled through from the afternoon until nearly midnight. Rex and Margot: not happy. Guinness: thinks eating could be a great cure for foul-weather fears.
Another tax day has come and gone, and even though I didn’t feel so great, I couldn’t resist going to the downtown post office to see the last-minute filers on Wednesday night. However, for the first time ever, I couldn’t get NEAR the post office, even though I left the house well before eleven.
