Once Upon A Time (2)

“Jack Boback.” He clasped her hand briefly. It was warm and soft.

She looked around the darkening yard. Silver balloons bobbed in the light breeze, cicadas sang in the trees, and a large, shaggy dog wandered aimlessly to and fro, snuffling for food scraps in the grass around the barbecue pit.

“But where is everybody? I thought this was going to be a backyard deal.”

“The kids are in the house finishing up with ice cream and cake. We can go wait over on the patio until the show is over, if you’d like.”

Cindy checked her watch. “The girls are supposed to be home by 9:00, but I guess a few more minutes won’t hurt.” She began walking toward the cement slab. “It’s their first boy-girl party too, and their parents were really upset about having to be out of town. I think they were torn between photographing the whole thing and forbidding the girls to go.” She smiled. “So they called me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a police photographer.”

Jack laughed. “That sounds exciting. I’m afraid being just an elementary school principal doesn’t measure up.”

“I’m not so sure. I bet you have your days. You certainly gave me a thrill when I came through the hedge!”

CONTINUED TOMORROW

Once Upon A Time

Guest writer Minnie Chavez will entertain you in Fiorella's absence for the next two weeks:

Someone was trying to slip through the hedgerow again.

Jack strode over to the dense wall of ligustrum just as a bedraggled female figure in cut-offs, an orange tank top, and barely-there sparkly flip flops emerged into his brother’s backyard. Lifting his chin and crossing his arms like a sumo wrestler, he fixed her with a reproving stare.

“Miss, this is a private event.”

“Do I look like gate-crashing teen-ager, you officious idiot?” the woman sputtered, brushing twigs and leaves off her shirt. “I’m here to collect my nieces from the birthday party!”

Jack laughed. He’d been called a lost worse. Even in the dim evening light, he could see that the trespasser indeed was no teen-ager. In fact, she looked more his own age. He relaxed his stance and stepped back a pace.

“Sorry about that.” He gestured toward the hedge. “I was assigned to patrol the perimeter and it’s been a long evening. This is my nephew’s first girl-boy party and my brother recruited me to act as security.”

The woman smiled and nodded. “That’s okay. I guess I sort of overreacted,” she admitted, combing her fingers though her hair for debris, then retying her pony tail. “I’m Cindy Glover, the twins’ aunt.” She offered her hand. “Getting through that hedge was harder than it looks. I mean, the girls do it all the time, but they’re just fourteen and they’d disappear if they turned sideways.”

The tank top showed off her mature curves to good advantage, Jack noted. There was no way Cindy Glover would disappear if she turned sideways.

CONTINUED TOMORROW

Bon Voyage to Us!

Wish me luck! Husband and I are heading off to San Francisco today. Here are the current states of my three pitches:

PLEASURE: Ann McCoy knows everything about sex and nothing about pleasure. Neil Graham knows everything about pleasure and nothing about love. Ann and Neil are set on a collision course by Neil’s eight-year-old son, Aidan, who needs them both. Meanwhile their relationship must overcome Neil’s vengeful ex-wife and Ann’s guilt about having been raped years before.

TRAIL OF BLOOD: Tally Skiba wants to bring her friend’s murderer to justice so she hires sexy ex-cop Stephen O’Malley to help her. They are attracted to each other, but their relationship runs into problems because he suspects Tally is the murderer, while she insists the culprit is a local serial killer. Besides, Stephen is HIV-positive while Tally is a vampire—and so was her friend.

JUST FOR THE NIGHT: Years ago, preacher's daughter Lauren Harlow turned down bad boy Jase Redlander, but now she wants to turn him on, if only for one night. Jase, who has come up in the world, has always loved Lauren, the princess of Bosque Bend, and wants to make their relationship more permanent. But will he still want her when he learns she is is no longer the town princess--and why? And can Lauren make her own peace with the town that rejected her?

Devotional Hymn

I set this to music, but the Internet can't handle notation yet, as far as I know. FP

Here is my voice--

Use it as you will,

To laud, lament, rejoice;

My voice is yours until--

I can sing no more.

Here are my hands--

Use them as you will,

To comfort, help, and heal;

My hands are yours until--

I can do no more.

Here is my life--

Use it as you will,

To love, inspire, and teach;

My life is yours until--

I can live no more.

Peaches!

Fiorella has left a trail of peach pits all over town. Yes, she has finally scored fresh, gooshy peaches! Bags and bags of them!

Husband craved peaches almost as much as Fio did and neither of them wanted to drive all the way to Fredericksburg so Fio got on the web and charted out the Austin farmers' markets. Surprisingly, there are about five of them, one of them where the old farmers' market used to stand on Burnet Road.

With her heart in her mouth--literally--Fio approached the tables of the lone displaying farmer, actually a farmerette from Mexia. Her family farm apparently produces an abundance of crops, all set out in an attractive display, but especially it produces PEACHES.

After sampling a slice, Husband and Fio bought a $4 bag, which had about fourteen small peaches in it and--get this--they were all ripe and all good! Thrilled, the next day Fiorella returned and bought $12 worth, sixteen peaches of which which she distributed to Hairdresser and Daughter's BF, and the rest she brought home for Husband and herself--well, except for the multitudes she ate in the car driving to and from all these places.

Fiorella is replete. Her summer is complete. And, from all the peach pits she tossed out the window as she scarfed down peach after peach (they ARE biodegradable!), Austin's roadsides with be swathed in peach blossoms for springtimes to come.

P.S. Apparently Fio's back yard will also be swathed in peach blossoms-- Wendy Dog snagged four peaches left on the kitchen counter.

Fiorella Makes a Promise

Fiorella is funny, Fiorella is deep--
She'll make you laugh, she'll make you weep,
She'll make you happy, she'll make you sad,
Somtimes she'll make you hopping mad.

Fiorella is up, Fiorella is down,
Fiorella is travelin' all over town.
Whatever she is, she's never quiet--
If you haven't read Fiorella, try it,
For one thing I can guarantee--
Fiorella never will boring be!

My Laptop, My Life

As I sit here with my computer in my lap, I am glad I am no longer of child-bearing age; I'm convinced that the slight heat I feel radiating from the machine is changing my genes even as I write. If I had a baby now, the umbilical cord would be connected to the printer.

I remember when photocopy machines came out. Within a year I had photocopied half the world, all with my groin pressed against the front of the machine, which made me realize that photocopiers were the instruments of a government plot: they were making copies all right--of our genetic codes so we could all be identified for future nefarious purposes.

I am currently so dependent on my laptop that I can't start the day without it. I check my e-mail several times a day, and I write down ideas for Fiorella whenever they strike me (like for more than an hour so far this morning). When I am writing a novel, I live with this thing on my lap from about eight in the morning to about ten at night, with only periodic breaks for food, bathroom, and Husband, who looks lonely, but respects my obsession.

I now understand about burial goods found in ancient tombs, and you know what will accompany me into the Beyond.