Gerald was busy cooking up chicken in his own peanut satay sauce, with a touch of cayenne peppers. Once you put in the peppers, you can't take them out!

Vera was sitting at the table with her head on her folded arms.

"I want to be different!"
"Oh, Vera, you are different!"

Aaaaaaaaaargh!

Someday, Dear Reader, it will all turn into a story about Vera, Gerald, Uncle, the cats, the neighbor boy who is 13, and a perfidious person yet to be named. It is a hot August evening, and Vera is sitting by the open window. She tries to ignore the shouting from next door, but finally closes the window. Ronny, the neighbor boy, runs out his back door, slamming it. Vera can hear Ronny yelling, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

Don't you hate it when writers put their stories together inside out and sideways? (But it is fun!)

Vera wants to know if anyone else ever gets irritated or depressed. Wonders if cashews will help? Wonders if she will ever feel like she has a goal or purpose ever again.

Gerald thinks Vera needs a nap, and maybe a vacation!

Blah!

Uncle just gives Vera that "adult" look that says life is hard and you have to stick it out anyhow. Duty, honor, country.

Vera is going to sleep for awhile. Maybe it will help. Brillig is snuggling up on the pillow and starts to "peddle" with his claws on Vera's shoulder. What is that called? Grateful for pets.

The Barn

Dear Reader,

This is an exercise I wrote after reading The Art of Fiction, by John Gardner (see page 37).

The barn withstood the cold October wind; red paint peeling off the last sadly worn boards, as if the sorrows of time had weathered away all but the last vestiges of its once new painted surface.

Years of expanding in the hot glare of the summer sun, and shrinking in the freezing chill of winter had separated the boards. The dim light of the overcast day filtered through the cracks. The effort to make the old barn new and useful again seemed titanic. It would take neighbors and friends and family and workmen.

Or the boards could be taken down, one by one, re-milled and sold for flooring.

Or the whole damn thing could just be burnt to the ground, a raging pyre against the injustices of time, sorrow and misfortune.

Donkey pics!

Greetings from the North or South, depending on where you are!

We did indeed have donkey riding lessons. I am too tired to post much, but here is a photo or two!

Dear Reader;

Close Guantanamo! Does anyone think they couldn't be picked up by police by mistake? Does anyone think that eroding civil rights and justice doesn't make it more possible for anyone to be mistreated? Does anyone think it is ok to mistreat someone as long as it isn't themselves?

Good grief, the UK Attorney General has called for the closing of Guantanamo, and us American Citizens have not stormed this dreadful Bastille? We have not even come close to storming it with our voices, our letters to Congress, our letters to the editor. We are busy watching American Idol!

I am first amongst those who have remained silent. So, Auriel, what will you? How about AT LEAST some emails to congress and the newspaper!

Next time, I will return with literary fare and donkey news. Vera is saddened by her frozen pen, and Gerald wonders why she just doesn't simply write a short paragraph and send it off! Vera!

Dear Reader,

Jim and I both got to ride Abe, our mammoth donkeys. I said I'd take pictures, but alas, the batteries were kaput! We see them in about two weeks and vow to take extra batteries with us.

Riding a mammoth donkey on a treeless saddle is a smooth comfortable experience, let me tell you! They are narrower in the withers than a horse, and that adds to the comfort. A few more weeks and we are on our own with them! I am learning a lot from our trainer on how to be a good donkey owner and rider. No eating on the trail (the donkeys, that is)! No looking around and wandering about! We are working. And also, treats make the fellas into mush-brained carrot heads, so we are just going to give them treats at home, not on the trail.

Trooper was just a bit goosey, so Mom doesn't get to ride him just yet. Maybe next time!

Best to you,

Auriel