The Matron really wonders where that hit man might be.
Scruffy made his usual round of pooping through the house: third floor, kitchen, Scarlett's room. He has a regular junket.
He ate a box of pink Marshmallow Peeps.
He jumped the fence three times, ran into the road and still didn't manage to get killed.
He ate half a Subway sandwich: bacon, mayo, cheese.
He ate a giant-size box of Bottle Caps.
This combination made his little heart pace. He shook--all that sugar coursing through those 14 tiny pounds.
And when the Matron's stone cold heart melted at his suffering and she picked him up and put him in her lap?
That dog peed on her. A lot.
Her day, generally, has been a real hum-dinger.
See this? This is called Winter.
Ring, Ring, Ring.
Mother Nature: "Hello?"
Matron: "The new season is Spring, sister. We get grass and blue sky. Tulips."
Mother Nature: "Did that dog just pee on you?"
Matron: "Did you send him, too?"
It is pretty but the Matron has seen this show before and she's ready for new runs of sunlight and mud.
Still, the Matron was buoyed by all the wonderful comments regarding the Other Mother. She feels, well, better. More solid in her sensible shoes.
Then, it occurred to the Matron that Other Mother's daughter plays "Smart girl who is self-assured and happy," while the Matron's daughter plays?
Tomorrow, the Matron takes her weasel across the river to Minneapolis to audition for The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe at the highly competitive Children's Theater. She will remember her duel with the Other Mother and read her book, quietly.
At high-octane places, it is best not to converse with the women who gave birth to the competition.
This, below, is something the Matron lovingly refers to as glop.
It is her version of grits, mashed potatoes, beefy lasagna, of fill-the-belly comfort food. This is baked squash with kelp, peppers, tomato, spinach, blue cheese and tahini mixed in. The Matron just loves the stuff.
The glop sat unprotected, exposed, within inches of the shuddering, shaking Scruffy who just turned his nose.
Stryker: "Even Scruffy has limits."
Did you hear that?
The wine's uncorking.