March 9, 2004

• I feel like I've adopted a wee baby.   There she is, sound asleep on my own pillow.   My little shadow.   Ever since we brought Maya home, she's never left my side.    When Brett was here and we had to put her on the floor, she crept into one of his shoes.   Quivering little flower.   She's so affectionate!   And she hasn't gnawed up one thing.   I just want to kiss her smelly little face.   (Poor thing has ear mites extreme.)   But "Arrrrrrrrrrrh-arrh-arrh...ACK!"   she complains in her high-pitched vibrato growl.   (Ginger:   "Remember, we're small.  You're not supposed to kiss near the head.   You're big and might eat us.   Kiss means 'eat.'")    No, we won't kiss.    We know you're not used to us yet.  Oh, stinky poo!   We'll get you into shape!

  
  

  Sunday was the haps.   After getting a tour of the outdoor kennels, we retreated poolside to discover Ashleigh making the rounds.   Yeppers, Big Sis just had to check out the connections upon hearing key words "author," actress," and "architect."   And she was just Marsha's cup of tea.   I was almost dozing off in a solar wave reverie when Coke's fav expression "One hand rubs the other!" snapped me out of it.   Jeezus Sleezus, she's already hyped the lady into a deal.   When shall we ever be rid of her?    

  
  

  Thank God, the Olson's kept their reserve.   But Jon's old money; he'd rather put up with this horny flip of a girl fooling around all night with his son than her ultra-sophisticated thrill seeker of a sib. 

  
  

  One of the guests was a horse breeder who just lost his best Thoroughbred stallion and wants to sue his onsite farrier.   Put to pasture three years ago for health problems acquired on the track,  Mogul Mongo II, a descendent of Fakir, was standing stud when doc decided to give him a good run, see if the old guy still had it in him.   He was already exhausted and foaming at the mouth when they led him into the covering shed to do his limit of two mares a day.    A real crowd pleaser, he dutifully did his job with his best girl waiting in the wings to fuel his ardor.   Maybe, with a little assistance from the staff, he could breed just two more.   Mog could handle upwards of seven in his heyday, and a really fussy maiden mare was finally primed and couldn't wait.   He was interested, but breathing hard and unable to mount.   So doc stuck him a good shot in the rear.   It had always worked before, and seemed to be just the boost the old man needed now.   In no time he was up and thrusting away from his ground position at her side, wrapping his lovely arched neck around her withers to steady himself and spewing them with drool.   He never did mount her.   It must've been at the climax when he shuddered and began to go down with a long, agonizing groan.   His big brown eyes seemed to stare off into space as if struck with beatific vision.   Then he gracefully rolled over on his side, his back legs slowly kicking in a cardiac arrest.  From the looks of it all on videotape, the poor dude had bite the dust right on her.   At only fourteen years of age.   It was just too much for him.  

  
  

  "How can I do that to my ex husband?"  a lady joked.  

  
  

  "That's Mog II in the picture," the owner said, handing her his photo clip.  "We never show the sire.   Too feisty."   Heinous.     

  
  

  We had Thai BBQ at seven, followed by the inevitable grilled Sara Lee pound with whipped cream and fresh strawberries in Grand Marnier.   While we relaxed over Long Island iced teas, Marsha passed around some extra goodies she'd cooked up herself:   chocolate truffles, wedges of crisp toffee, almond bark.   She came up to each one of us personally, pointing out our particular treat on the tray.   She must've landed a part for a maid or something.

  
  

  The night was warm, but overcast with a dusty tinge.   At sunset we all drove up to ____ Field, a private landing strip where Jon got his pilot's license, shared some smoke, and watched the planes landing and taking off with the last slivers of light glinting on their wings.   Then it was back to campus with Maya riding on the floor in her carrier, where we're instructed to put her later should she decide to act out.   So far, so good.   I think I've found a friend.   Something to keep me company during lonely times when my honey's away, I can hear Brett thinking.   Then he laughs.

  • 5:27 pm
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