So Pretty called the old woman Slow from work this past Saturday morning and said she had this Great Idea for where Slow could go to sell copies of her new book I’ll Call It Like I See It: A Lesbian Speaks Out but she had to go right that minute because the Great Idea would  only be available from 11 until 2 that day and it was 10:15 when Pretty called.  The place was called The Market at Whaley Street and Pretty had seen this Other Author selling his books at the Main Street Market that morning when she went to get change at the bank for the Mast General Store which needed a bunch of change because people were flockin’ in to do Christmas shoppin’ at the store and in Pretty’s opinion the Other Author’s Book didn’t look nearly as good as Slow’s so wasn’t it a Great Idea to go down to the other marketplace on Whaley Street which someone had told her about and sell Slow’s books?

Of course, I heard Slow hem and haw and say it was so cold and was it indoors or outdoors and how much would it cost for a table and on and on.   That’s so like her.  She can’t ever just go with Pretty’s flow at a moment’s notice.   She’s got to think and think and mull and mull until she finally makes a move.   Usually.

But Saturday morning the old girl jumped up from her desk like she had a burr up her butt and brushed her teeth and washed her face and dabbed a few eye drops in her watery red eyes and put on a relatively clean pair of blue jeans with a more questionable sweatshirt and topped off her look with her favorite UT Longhorn baseball cap.  The next thing The Red Man knew she had  grabbed a big box full of books plus two table top posters and her autograph-signing silver pen and was struggling to get that box down the stairs at Casa de Canterbury but she made it by draggin’ it down one step at a time and then she had to carry it out to the Dodge Dakota which was hilarious to  me and the rest of the Pack as we  watched her huff and puff along the front sidewalk.  We hadn’t seen her move that fast in years.  Slow, the Author, on a Mission.

We raced out our doggie door to the back yard when we heard the garage door open and there she was pullin’ out a card table and chair and liftin’ them into the bed of the pickup that had the motor runnin’ in the driveway in front of the garage and Lawdy Lawdy Lawdy Miss Clawdy that was a sight.  She’d lift and push and lift and push until she finally got that card table up and in and then she slammed the tailgate and off she went like a Herd of Turtles.  I swear I didn’t think we’d ever stop laughin’ at the sight.   Sweet Jesus.

Four Hours Later

The Red Man heard the garage door open again and we all flew out the doggie door in time to see the Dodge Dakota backed up in the driveway and the tailgate was down so the daffy old twit could get the card table and chair out of the truck bed and into the garage.  As far as I could see, no damage was done when she dropped it with a clatter and clang on the cement driveway and narrowly averted the disaster of breaking one of her toes if the ancient heavy card table had hit her foot when it fell.   L-U-C-K-Y    L-E-S-B-I-A-N.

At any rate, The Red Man and the Pack flew back in the house and ran to look out the front windows when we heard the Dodge Dakota in the front driveway.  Honestly, we got our exercise for the day runnin’ back and forth to see what Slow was up to.  Well, up the front walkway she came carryin’ that same big box of books and we held our breath to see if she’d make it up the front porch steps and were thrilled when she did.   This time she didn’t bother with takin’ them upstairs.  She plopped them down by the stairs and that’s where they are today.

When Pretty got home later that night and asked her how the Great Idea worked out, Slow told her that the Other Author must’ve had a better day than she had.   She hadn’t managed to sell the first book at The Market that Saturday.  The Good News was the booth rental was only $25.   The Bad News was Slow’s booth had been next to the Evolution through Chocolate booth behind her and the Homemade Breads and Cakes booth to the side of her so the book sale profits would’ve been in trouble anyway if there’d been any – which there hadn’t.

All’s well that ends well, as The Red Man is fond of sayin’ and at least Slow met some new Amigos while she was there.  You can’t have too many friends.  If only they could read…

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Pups on the Porch at The Market

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So many leashes…so little walking

Get me outta here Percy…let’s make one more swing through the kitchen to see what’s left of that cinnamon/raisin bread…I’m not hopeful…