Sundays are always a good day to tie a scarf around your hair (’50s style), apply a vibrant shade of lipstick and drive around in a red, convertible sports car with a 4’x3′ mirror out of the back. After driving around two counties, Tree phoned to invite Sleepless and I to join he and Screamer for brunch (which, since it was well after one, is really just lunch). Just before we were finishing up, FatGirl suprised us with his presence. Sleepless thought our server was cute, so FatGirl shared Sleepless’ feelings with him. This activity caused Sleepless to get all a flutter and resulted in several questions about what she should do now. Tree looked at Sleepless and said, “You’ve been hanging around us (gesturing to me) for why too long – now you think everything is about you.”
Immediately after brunch, Sleepless and I stopped by OregganO and Cream of Tartar’s house. They weren’t home, however, would be back soon, so we completely made ourselves at home – even though we had to do so outside. Cream of Tartar offered to make us dinner (elk, corn and tots) if we waited for him to finish the plumbing downstairs. Not the kind to turn down dinner, we graciously accepted the invitation and patiently waited for him and dinner. During this time we had fabulous “girl conversations” while listening to Wilson Phillips and Bryan Adams. Cream of Tartar, in the midst of cooking our dinner, shouted out, “Bryan Adams? Oh man, are you trying to make me cry?” He then turned up the volume, probably to drown out the tears, and sang along to “Please Forgive Me.”
After dinner, FatGirl stopped by for drinks. As soon as he found out Cream of Tartar was there, and he is a fireman, his excitement for life increased dramatically. Cream of Tartar, not one to let down, made FatGirl an offer he couldn’t refuse, “You want to put a helmet on and take pictures?” Within seconds FatGirl (and minutes later, Sleepless) was wearing the helmet and BDU and hanging from the ornamental iron on the stoop while OregganO snapped photos. After Sleepless’ photo shoot she was relaxing in her chair, wearing the helmet and sipping on her wine, when Cream of Tartar said, “You look like a girl that just came out of a recruit school.” “What does that mean?” asked Sleepless. “I don’t know if it’s good or bad,” Cream of Tartar replied.
Tree and Screamer soon arrived and, they too, got in on the action. In proper host fashion, Cream of Tartar headed to the kitchen to prepare food for Tree. Tree wasn’t aware Cream of Tartar was being so thoughtful until he heard shouting coming from the kitchen, “DO YOU WANT A BEAN BURRITO?” Tree politely and quietly replied, “No thanks, I’m having cookies and milk at home.”
Tree and Screamer were showing us pictures of a dog they are hoping to get and I asked what they planned to name him. “Maybe Dolores,” said Tree. “Winston,” said Screamer. “We can call him whatever we want – we’re gay,” said Tree. “Dolores, Winston, Lola, maybe all three.”
Although FatGirl was having fun, he was hurting from his recent workout routine. Cream of Tartar suggested he try eating elk meat. “The elk is going to help your workout tomorrow,” said Cream of Tartar and then he raised his arms above his head and did the “call of the wapiti.”
As the night went on, Cream of Tartar’s contributions to the conversations got better and better. At one point he decided to tell a story, looked down, noticed one of his flip flops were missing and said, “This story is a good one and so serious I’m going to tell it with only one shoe on.” It was around this time that OregganO decided to assist Cream of Tartar. He looked her in the eye and said, “Thank you for protecting me and the horny elkerdness.”