Here's another installment of my Great American Lesbian Novel (in progress), Ginny Bates. If you are new to reading GB, go to the section in the right-hand column labeled Ginny Bates to read background and find out how to catch up.
December 2013
After dinner was cleared, Carly pulled out poker chips and everyone began buying in. Myra touched Gillam's arm and said "Could I talk with you privately for a few minutes?"
His eyes were still less than friendly, but he said okay. Ginny looked at Myra expectantly and Myra waved her off. She and Gillam walked back to her study. She sat on the daybed, and he chose to take her chair.
Myra didn't hesitate. "We did that badly. Well, I'll speak for myself at the moment. We did want to tell everybody, but we should have talked to you and Jane privately first."
He nodded.
"And -- I realized we didn't make it clear, you don't have to choose either of the houses in question. You and Jane can pick your own place, of course, and get exactly the same help from us. We'd have made that offer whether or not the Limons' came on the market, now that you're beginning a family. Which changes everything."
He squared his shoulders. He'd always had such wide, lovely shoulders. "It does change everything, Mom. I'm -- a little overwhelmed." He cut himself off. She waited a minute, then said "I know. I remember hitting this stage with our first pregnancy, once the euphoria wore off."
He looked at her. "I feel inadequate. Not just scared, but like -- even in moments of clarity, I can't do everything I'm supposed to do."
"Well, I agree with you, that's clarity" said Myra, startling him. "It takes a shitload of resource to raise a kid; as Hillary would say, a village. You know, Allie and I were always tight, but when Margie came along and Allie stepped in to do more than the share of a friend, that's when we all became family. I felt bad sometimes about her taking on our kid, but we seriously needed her and, well, she fell in love with Margie. And then you. You have many more people than we did standing in the wings, waiting to come help. We're tribal animals, it's how we're supposed to function, no shame in it."
"But..." He picked at his cuticle. "I need you not take this as gender shit -- I'm the main breadwinner, I'm the one who will be working full-time once Poppyseed is born -- "
When Myra reacted to the name, he grinned and said "We've been calling it Poppyseed in lieu of 'it' or another name. It won't be his or her real name, don't worry."
"Poppyseed. I love it" said Myra.
"Anyhow, the fact is, I took this job at Nova because it's where I really wanted to work, that alternative setting with kids in need, and I adore it, Mama. But it pays crappy. I could earn 50% more at even another public school, maybe double at a private school. The fact is, my income alone is not enough to buy a house, handle the $5000 health care deductible that will hit us next year and every year after that, and all the rest I can't even anticipate. Plus we need a new car. I have enough left in my trust fund maybe for the car, after we pay all the tuition to finish our Masters' degrees. But then we'll have no savings. So...your house offer means taxes and upkeep, and anything else -- I won't be able to swing it."
"Yeah. You won't be financially independent, not completely. And if that matters to you more than having a house, I'll respect that, Gillam. I really will."
He leaned back, rubbing his forehead. "I can't imagine being so proud as to turn this down. Don't take that as a yes, it's not. But...Choosing to on being dependent on your and Mom, not just for all the meals and the vacations and of course babysitting, but the roof over my head..."
"I hear you. Perhaps you should talk with Allie, she had a very hard time accepting the trust fund I set up for her when I won the lottery. We were both scared it would alter our relationship and not for the better."
"Yeah. I could do that. Still, this is different. I've been dependent, now I'm in a different stage of life, and you've been working hard on not being a parent in the same way, how will this affect you?"
Myra smiled wanly. "It'll take work on my part, too. Already begun. But that's what family does. And, I should have thought of this earlier: I could do with you what I did with Allie. I, well, Ginny and I, could set up an independent trust to pay for the house and taxes, upkeep, put it in your and Jane's name and walk away. You'd have complete control over it. Wow, even to me that sounds a fuck of a lot better."
His shoulders relaxed. "God, yes. That's a completely different animal. Okay, can I take that to Jane as a revised offer?"
"Yes. I know Ginny will love it."
"Are you two really going to be able to afford this? I mean, it's been years since I sat in on a family accounting meeting, how has the economic downturn hurt you?"
"Astonishingly little. Rich people want to buy art, like they buy gold and luxury items. And Ginny's name is prestigious, so she sells among the hoi polloi. Our retirement fund is solid because, well, two things, really. One is that I insisted we invest according to what I saw as lesbian-feminist principles, which means no making money off basic human needs. So no real estate, no agribusiness, no energy except renewable energy, and no big pharma or health care. All of which have been where most of the losses occurred. Plus no military, of course. We were able to choose low-yield, stable, human-interest-oriented stocks and investments. And Ginny's contribution was to insist that we never make a financial decision where fear or worry was somehow in the mix. People don't think clearly when they are scared, and in particular the Republicans feed off fear. If we couldn't think about a possibility without some loss of our internal power -- and we'd gut check each other -- then we didn't go down that road." Myra felt proud of herself and Ginny. Their collaboration had been cross class lines, she thought.
"But all that microcredit loaning you've done, you and also the Feminist Fund -- isn't that exploiting human need?" asked Gillam.
"Our personal microcredit portfolio began with a set amount and we've never retrieved that investment, we've put all profit back into the kitty so our ability to loan has doubled and quadrupled, all going back to people who control their own decisions about what they do with the money. We never will close it out, either. If the poor in the world stop needing microloans, we'll give it away elsewhere. In fact, we do give away 10% of it each year, right before the end of the year -- you can help us decide where in the next couple of weeks, if you want. Same with the Fund. Oh, and there's an idea -- If we put you on the board of the Feminist Fund and give you an actual job, something that won't take more than a few hours a month, we could cover you with our health insurance. Which has a very low deductible and excellent coverage. I'll have to bring this to the board, but hell, you're about to play poker with most of them, I think you'll be voted in. If you want the responsibility, that is. And it wouldn't kick in until after the first of the year, but it would certainly cover the birth."
Gillam stared at her. "There's no men on the board of the Feminist Fund."
"Will be now. We talked about it a long time ago, about how you'd probably be the first" said Myra. "And, if the others agree, I'd like to ask Carly and Margie as well."
"I need more information about what my work duties would be" said Gillam slowly.
"Of course. I didn't mean to dump more on you tonight. Listen, we can go join the game if you want. I just wanted to give you a chance to yell at me and hear me say I know what's up for you. Not gender crap at all -- parent crap. Me and Ginny had some looneytone blow-outs during her first pregnancy, sometime we'll tell you and Jane how nutty we got."
"Was Mama, how shall I say it, hormonal?"
"You have no idea. And it got worse after the birth. But I'll be there for you, don't worry" said Myra.
"Easy for you to say" muttered Gillam, standing. "Let's go play seven card stud. Is there beer in the store room fridge? I want a beer."
"Yes, Grolsch which doesn't bother Ginny as much because she gets to use the bottles afterward for salad dressings. Offer some to Carly and Eric, too."
He stopped to hug her. "The Limons' place, that was Mom's idea, wasn't it?"
"Yes. But I want it too, now."
"Jane has talked about how she'd decorate this house if it was hers, you know" he said in a whisper.
"Just don't paint over the mural in your room, that's all I ask. Everything else can go" said Myra.
"All right." When they returned to the dining room, Ginny looked at Myra sharply. Myra ignored the silent question and said "I need five bucks of chips, Carly."
"Coming up" he said with a grin. "I should initial 'em, because they'll all be mine by the end of the evening."
Over the next two weeks, Myra finished her holiday baking, got help decorating cookies, and sent out her usual Ginny-decorated tins. Ginny raced through two paintings, one of them an abstract that was based on Myra's PET scan. She named it "All Clear" and it was so gorgeously unidentifiable, Myra okayed it for sale. Jane and Gillam announced they would make a decision about houses on Gillam's birthday, and confirmed their decision to house-sit for Myra and Ginny while everyone else went to Lake Quinault Lodge. "Seeing what it's like without us in it" Ginny whispered to Myra.
The two of them squeezed in three more sessions with Nancy, and by the time they climbed into the far back of Edwina's car for the drive to the lodge the day after Christmas, Myra felt drained from processing. Ginny did not pack a wet carrier or canvas. Instead, she had a large watercolor block and a box of tube watercolors, plus a stack of books and magazines on house design ideas. She'd also scored copies of the Limon's original blueprints and had them reproduced a dozen times for "doodling on", she said.
Chris took the galleys of her dictionary on disk with her laptop, Sima had jewelry-making supplies, and both Allie and Edwina took work projects. Myra's book was on her laptop, but she packed a number of mysteries instead of any nonfiction. Carly and Eric brought fishing gear and joined the early morning trek to the lake each day. Myra slept until nearly dinner the first day, ate with everyone, and afterward opted out of Scrabble to sit near the fire and read. She went to bed with Ginny and fell asleep swiftly.
The next morning, she met up with Lois and sat with her, watching weaving and chatting for the first hour. As they both subsided into silence, Myra pulled out the Levenger Circa notebook Ginny had given her for Chanukah and began writing: Two poems, one after the other, then a silly rhyme which turned into the chatter of a little girl named Poppyseed talking about making bread with her Gramma. It was spare, funny, and not a voice Myra had ever heard come from inside herself. After lunch, she showed it to Ginny and Allie, who stared at one another wide-eyed. Allie said "I'll arm-wrassle you for it."
"I'll do the cover, I'm better with one-offs" said Ginny. "You do the story." Allie shook her hand.
"Just like that?" said Myra.
"It the most accomplished kid's thing you ever done" said Allie, her astonishment settling into a grin.
"Don't let them touch a line of it" said Ginny. She patted the chair next to her at the table and said "Would you like to daydream about energy usage and room arrangement?"
"I redecorate my own way" said Myra. "You go ahead. I'll say no when I need to. I got other fish to fry."
"Speaking of which" said Chris, who had been listening in, "You think that guy was pulling Carly's leg about the sturgeon?"
"His tackle was intended for something fuckin' huge" said Allie. "I know they can get to be ten feet long, easy, but I don't know about in this lake."
"There's a ten-foot fish out there?" said Ginny, diverted from her blueprints.
"They were claiming so" said Edwina.
"There's an ancient legend about a monster who used to live here. He was killed by a native man named Kwatee after the monster ate his brother. I wonder if the white boys have gotten that mixed up with somebody spotting a big chinook or something" said Chris.
"Lewis and Clark killed a ten-foot sturgeon, it's in their journals" offered Myra. "But I think that might have been on the Columbia."
Chris leaned over to Ginny and said in a soft voice "Can you make up a poster advertising a reward for the capture of a quote killer fish unquote? Say it's eaten dogs who've chased sticks into the lake and maybe attacked a person. Disguise your handwriting, and I'll post it by the cleaning dock."
Ginny began giggling. Allie said "Carly won't go out in his waders no more."
"Yes he will" Myra defended him. But she began giggling too and said "He'll wear a cup, though." When they all roared, Carly and Eric looked over at them suspiciously from their game of spades at a nearby table.
Myra took her notebook and current mystery to a giant soft chair sitting in a pool of light from the window. For the rest of the week, she read, wrote poems, watched weaving, and slept on Ginny's schedule. She didn't check e-mail or open her laptop once. One afternoon, she lay down on the couch where Allie was making sketches of Poppyseed and gently bickering with Ginny about skin tone, putting her head on Allie's thigh and dropping off within a minute. Allie woke her up an hour later, saying "I don't mind you drooling on my khakis but I gotta go take a whizz."
Ginny's dog-eating fish poster wound up in the local Sunday paper the day before they left. Lois had joined them for breakfast and brought a copy, saying "I suspect this stunt has your fingerprints on it." Ginny swore her to silence. That afternoon, Chris drove an hour to a small town where she bought an assortment of odds and ends at a convenience store to cover the purchase of a dog collar. She and Allie "mucked up" the collar to make it not look new any more, then wrote "Snowball" on the inside with indelible ink, sliced it jaggedly in two places with Allie's pocket-knife, and left it in the shallows next to the beach where people took their dogs for walks. Myra asked Lois to call them in Seattle if the collar got found and joined the news cycle.
Gillam's birthday fell on a Thursday that year, so they held his party on Friday. After he blew out his candles and cut cake for everyone, he said "We'll take the house. This one. But only in the form of a trust we manage ourselves. Alveisa is retiring but she recommended a guy we've hired as our financial adviser."
Everyone cheered. Jane waited a few minutes before she said to Ginny, "We're going to tear out the wall between your study and studio, make that one big family room again. Plus we're putting down carpeting and repainting all the walls in neutral shades."
Myra couldn't believe Ginny hadn't anticipated this, but clearly she had not. She didn't seem to be able to even move the muscles of her face. Gillam said blandly to Myra, "We'll want all our own appliances, too, so take whatever you want. As long as you're still determined to keep the stove, that is."
Ginny finally croaked out "What do you mean by neutral shades?"
Gillam said gently "I think of all people you know what that term means, Mama. Listen, we'd love to keep your roses out front and rhododendrons along the side -- is it possible for you to make cuttings, thin them each out and us share them that way?"
It was a sop, and Ginny accepted it. Myra knew she'd hear the blowback later. "Definitely" Ginny said. "We may have to move them for construction, I'm not sure what...else you have planned. But we'll deal with it. The Limon house will need a great deal of alteration, so we won't be out of here for months, you know."
"By May first, we're hoping" said Gillam.
"We'll do our best" said Myra. Sima proposed a toast, to "Fences and gates!" and they all clanked their glasses together.
© 2008 Maggie Jochild.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
GINNY BATES: LIKE A STURGEON...
Here's another installment of my Great American Lesbian Novel (in progress), Ginny Bates. If you are new to reading GB, go to the section in the right-hand column labeled Ginny Bates to read background and find out how to catch up.
December 2013
After dinner was cleared, Carly pulled out poker chips and everyone began buying in. Myra touched Gillam's arm and said "Could I talk with you privately for a few minutes?"
His eyes were still less than friendly, but he said okay. Ginny looked at Myra expectantly and Myra waved her off. She and Gillam walked back to her study. She sat on the daybed, and he chose to take her chair.
Myra didn't hesitate. "We did that badly. Well, I'll speak for myself at the moment. We did want to tell everybody, but we should have talked to you and Jane privately first."
He nodded.
"And -- I realized we didn't make it clear, you don't have to choose either of the houses in question. You and Jane can pick your own place, of course, and get exactly the same help from us. We'd have made that offer whether or not the Limons' came on the market, now that you're beginning a family. Which changes everything."
Friday, September 26, 2008
GO TELL AUNT RHODY...
(Aunt Penny and the half-moon hoe, at work in the field Boggy Creek Farm)
From Carol Ann Sayle's News of Boggy Creek Farm:
September 25, 2008
Obituary of Aunt Penny Barrock
2002-2008
Aunt Penny, as she was known to the Friends of the Farm, died peacefully, at the age of six and one-half years old, 1 PM, Monday, September 22, 2008, at her home, the Hen House at Boggy Creek Farm, in Austin Texas. She is survived by her subordinates, Tootie J. Tootums and Hoppy J.Tootums, her nieces the twin Patty Wyandottes, and her servants and companions, Carol Ann, Larry, Cousin Claire, Andrea, and The Marias. She is predeceased by her mentor, Mrs. Elvira Bentley, who passed away in 2004.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
AFTER DISASTER: HOW CAN I VOTE?
(U.S. Air Force Pararescueman Staff Sgt. Lopaka Mounts, assigned to the 331st Air Expeditionary Group, receives a hug from a resident during search and rescue operations after Hurricane Ike in Galveston, Texas September 13, 2008; photos by U.S. Air Force Staff Sgt. James L. Harper Jr./Reuters)
Hurricane Ike resulted in deaths and/or disaster areas being declared in ten American states: Arkansas, Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, Louisiana, Missouri, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, and Texas. With an important national election pending, those directly affected by Ike may be wondering how they are going to vote in November. Here's how to answer to your questions.
First, make sure you are, in fact, registered to vote. Go to Vote for Change and do a quick search. Be advised, however, that if your search information does not EXACTLY match how it is entered in your state's database, you may be incorrectly told (as I was) that you are not registered. If that occurs, check with your state's registrar directly.
If you are not registered, you can do so quickly at the above site. You can also find your polling location and where to vote early. I personally love voting absentee, available to anyone who is disabled, because it's a paper ballot and I know Diebold isn't erasing my enfranchisement.
[Cross-posted at Group News Blog.]
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
GINNY BATES: FIESTA WARE
Here's another installment of my Great American Lesbian Novel (in progress), Ginny Bates. If you are new to reading GB, go to the section in the right-hand column labeled Ginny Bates to read background and find out how to catch up.
December 2013
The following Friday morning, Myra was on eBay after breakfast, checking out the Fiesta Ware. None of their dishes needed replacing at the moment, but she was considering buying another of the deviled egg plates, this one in evergreen -- they used these servers creatively, for stuffed mushrooms and other canapes as well. She pulled up her list of Fiesta colors, current and retired, and counted them: Right now at 41. They had at least one dinner plate, dessert plate, salad bowl, dessert bowl, and soup bowl in each color, plus a dazzling array of serving dishes gathered over the years. A dozen pitchers in different colors, in constant use. Two dozen ramekins, three butter dishes, four carafes, eight pie plates, six teapots. Their sideboard with all these on display was one of Myra's favorite places in the house to rest her gaze.
Every member of the family had their "preferred" color, and setting the table meant automatically matching hue to who was going to sit there: Myra was original red, despite Ginny's comments about the uranium content and attempts to shift Myra to the newer scarlet. Ginny had originally been peacock, but when David had moved in and picked that color for himself, Ginny silently switched to the Bloomie's exclusive sapphire and stuck with it ever since. Chris went cinnabar, Sima liked the old forest green, and Allie had chosen rose until Margie got old enough to clamor for that shade, when Allie switched to the hard-to-find lilac. Gillam had been a turquoise boy, always. Carly wanted tangerine (or apricot, in a pinch). Edwina zeroed in on plum. Frances, on arrival, settled on sea mist, Jane went for persimmon, and Eric raised Ginny's eyebrows by asking for pearl gray. Myra wondered what the new baby would turn out to want. Nobody ever chose plain black or white, but she couldn't imagine a baby looking to those, either -- more likely, sunflower or the original green, those were new-to-this-world colors, she thought.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
MOVE ON RACISM: OBAMA OR ELSE
[Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?, by NY Street Artist TMNK™ (The Me Nobody Knows)]
Bill Clinton was on Letterman last night, mostly talking about the Clinton Global Initiative and explaining the current economic crisis. I wish he'd done more to assign blame, but that's an emotional reaction on my part.
In fact, here's my entirely emotional, working class reaction to the economic hooha: Ya'll are JUST NOW figuring out things are in the crapper? As usual, awareness of reality starts at the bottom and works it way up to the rarified air of the so-called "leaders". And thinkers. You know what I'd like to see? NO MORE WHITE MEN IN SUITS TALKING GRAVELY ABOUT THE ECONOMY. I've had it up to here on my fat red neck.
Furthermore, if I go to Walgreen's and steal a package of batteries, and the alarm goes off at the door, here's what happens: I get questioned, probably charged, and I don't get to keep the batteries. If I get charged, I get fined or do time. The penalty will depend on my looks (if I'm non-white, I do time; if I'm white and female and look poor/fat, I do time; etc.)
So what I want to see FIRST, before anything else, is the homes, condos, cars, boats, and pensions of every single fucker who has headed up banks and investment firms SEIZED and sold, with that money applied to the debt they've run up. Then they get fined on top of that, and their asses get FIRED. As Clinton said about the economic crisis last night, he's interested in seeing someone apply gaming theory to the situation, because there's no way things could get worse so any action will lead to improvement. If that's true, then ANYBODY hired in place of the alleged experts will make things better. Let's give it a try, shall we?
The penalty for greed at the expense of others (and that sums up the past eight years in a nutshell) needs to be deprivation on an epic scale for those who indulged themselves.
GINNY BATES: SHIN HEY GIMEL NUN
Here's another installment of my Great American Lesbian Novel (in progress), Ginny Bates. If you are new to reading GB, go to the section in the right-hand column labeled Ginny Bates to read background and find out how to catch up.
Early December 2013
Two days later, Margie arrived for a belated Hanukkah celebration. Myra was at Pike, getting a last minute load of potatoes because they were eating everything that came out of the garden as fast as they could dig it out. When she got home, Ginny had pulled out the sour cream she had started the night before and it sat in a bowl on the counter, looking perfectly incubated. Ginny, however, was the dining table with Margie, engrossed in going over the sketches of the Limons' house.
Ginny smiled at her apologetically and said "I couldn't wait. Margie brought up a question about their apartment and, well, I just couldn't wait."
Myra felt a little irked. She said "Don't go any further. I'm starting the turkey to roast and then I can join you." Margie got up to help her, and Ginny went to the back yard to get onions and parsley.
LOLCATS WEEKLY ROUND-UP, 23 SEPTEMBER 2008
Here's the weekly best of what I've gleaned from I Can Has Cheezburger efforts. There are some really creative folks out there. As usual, those from little gator lead the pack.
Monday, September 22, 2008
HURRICANE IKE -- LION AND TIGER UPDATE
(LOLLion concept by little gator)
I watched ten minutes of Inside Edition today (first time in my life) because they promised video of Shackle the lioness who rode out Hurricane Ike on the near-epicenter of Bolivar Peninsula in the Crystal Beach First Baptist Church. Turns out, the lion AND the tiger both belonged to the same guy, Mike Kujawa. He has a sort of home-grown zoo there, which in addition to the felines also once had goats and an emu. When it came time to evacuate, Mike knew he could not get both lion and tiger into the same vehicle -- they're not buddies. Mike had raised Shackle since she was a cub and she was human-friendly in a way the tiger (also a female) was not, so he let the tiger loose from her cage to keep her from drowning, but left her inside a fairly spacious enclosure. He and Shackle hit the road, but were unable to leave because of early flooding from the surge before Ike arrived.
Tigers are good swimmers and this one survived the storm just fine. As soon as the blow was over, Mike let authorities know about his situation with both big cats and requested help with moving the tiger-- who, in the meantime, was being fed and was definitely not roaming the Peninsula, as news sources had reported. According to a "settings things straight" article from the Beaumont Examiner Online, "Dr. Sarah Matak is the local veterinarian in Winnie, the nearest town on the mainland. She was contacted by officials who requested she tranquilize the tiger so it could be moved to safety. She in turn called Carl Griffith, the former Jefferson County Sheriff and Judge who owns an exotic game ranch down the road.
"Conditions in the storm-ravaged community had deteriorated by the time Matak and Griffith arrived in Crystal Beach on Wednesday, Sept. 17, four days after Ike hit. 'They had been feeding it, but he was a very aggressive and angry cat,' said Griffith. 'There were only two choices. It was either put it to sleep or they were going to have to kill it.'
(Tiger sedated for transport from Bolivar Peninsula on 17 September 2008, photo from Beaumont Examiner Online)
"Accompanied by Texas Game Wardens, Griffith and Matak went to Kujawa’s animal house. The former sheriff and two others cautiously approached the tiger’s enclosure in an attempt to avoid agitating the animal. 'That’s the biggest problem with darting animals,' said Griffith. 'As long as you don’t get them excited, the adrenaline doesn’t start pumping. He went down fairly easily; we got a dart in him and got another dart in him.' (sic -- again, it was a female tiger). Matak said the tiger was transported to an animal refuge facility near Somerville in Central Texas."
It seems likely to me that Galveston County's Judge Jim Yarbrough led reporters astray deliberately as to the danger from the tiger, not to make a good story but to discourage unwanted visitors to Bolivar Peninsula. I bet it worked, too.
The Inside Edition video revealed how very large Shackle the lioness is -- at 400 pounds, she looked giant next to Mike Kujawa, a well-built man. (The tiger was also 400 pounds.) He said they spent the night of the hurricane on an air mattress on the altar, as shown in photos, "cuddled up and hanging onto each other". The neighbors who brought Mike and Shackle into the church for safety elected to spend the night in a balcony above the altar, from which vantage point all the news photos appear to have been made as well. During the video, Shackle took exception to the camera at one point and began growling, starting to gather herself up. Mike said genially "Let it go" and she settled back down. A minute later, he turned to her and said in the tone we use with small dogs, "Gimme a kiss." She obligingly licked his cheek.
I can't even get that kind of sugar from my 7 lb. house cat, Dinah.
And, as the article soberly concludes, this "may be the only good news coming out of Crystal Beach anytime soon...On his trip to Crystal Beach to tranquilize a tiger, Griffith got a troubling glimpse of what the recovery to come might reveal. 'I saw a number of new vehicles that were in the debris, which led me to believe there were probably many people still there when the storm hit,' he said with a weary shake of his head. 'I do not believe too many people could have survived that storm.'
"The clear implication from this long-time lawman and public official was that it was unlikely people would leave late-model cars and trucks in the path of a destructive storm they felt compelled to flee."
GINNY BATES: AND OPEN THE GATE...
Here's another installment of my Great American Lesbian Novel (in progress), Ginny Bates. If you are new to reading GB, go to the section in the right-hand column labeled Ginny Bates to read background and find out how to catch up.
Early December 2013
The following Wednesday, when Allie came over for her evening with Ginny, she and Edwina discovered Ginny squatting in the rose bed when they came up the path.
"That rust back?" asked Edwina.
"No, I'm pulling garlic" said Ginny. "Plus we've both been on a roll today so no cooking got done. I've got an order for Japanese food coming and I thought I'd catch the delivery person out here. Nice to have you eating with us, 'wina."
"I'm hoping to sit in with you and Allie as well" said Edwina. "She's getting offers to pre-publish sections of her next book in one print periodical and one online magazine, and I want to be part of that discussion. Mostly curiosity on my part."
"Great" said Ginny. She stood up with a sheaf of garlic stalks and globes in her grip and handed them to Allie, saying "I need to look in the back corner before we go in."
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