D is for Deloris

Doloris waited for Porch Cat’s arrival.  Every night around 8:00 pm Porch Cat came to her house to eat dinner.  Tonight she had put out a bowl of canned tuna for him.  Porch Cat loved to be petted.  After finishing his meal he would saunter over to Deloris who would stroke his silky caramel fur, then he would curl up on her mushy thighs and nap for about ten minutes.  After that he usually scampered off, always turning his head to look back at her once – his way of saying good-bye.

Deloris checked her cell phone, it was 7:58.  She took a long sip of Rose, then lit a Menthol Light.  She watched the kids across the street play in their front yard.  It was late May so it was still light outside.  Deloris wasn’t a big fan of children, she found them noisy, messy and she hated how they always asked “but why?” about every damn thing.  She thought it foolish that anyone actually procreated these days. If a couple wanted a child they should adopt, there were thousands of babies and children wasting away in orphanages and hellish foster care homes. Deloris had watched an NBC Special Report on this subject matter, so she knew what she was talking about.  She took another long sip of Rose.  She was getting riled up now about the issue – the narcissism of people who insisted on having their own babies when there were desperate babies all over the world – blew her mind. Deloris scowled as she exhaled smoke – selfish pricks she thought to herself.

It was now 8:00 and no sign of Porch Cat yet.  Deloris checked to make sure she had remembered to put out fresh water then sat back down.  She smoothed out her colourful print tunic, it was one of her new spring purchases.  Deloris only shopped at one store – Chico’s.  Her favourite saleswoman was Jolene, they had become friends and occasionally went out for Margaritas together.  Jolene had taught Deloris about highlighting her best features and hiding her worst. According to Jolene, Deloris was pear shaped.  Deloris hated pears and she didn’t like the idea that her body was shaped like one, but Jolene had a great eye and soon after starting to shop with her Deloris started to receive compliments at work.  Even her boss, Mr. Elton, who never said anything to anyone, complimented her one day on her outfit.

A caramel fur ball swooshed up the steps – it was Porch Cat!  Deloris smiled as she watched him scarf down his tuna.  Porch Cat was starting to look a little chunky – Watermelon shaped – and Deloris figured it was because he ate dinner at more than one house.  Porch Cat clearly belonged to someone, he was friendly and looked well taken care of.  He had a collar with a tag, but Deloris never called the number on it because she didn’t want him to stop visiting her.  What if his owner decided to keep him inside?!  He needed to be out and about, doing cat things, so that his cat soul would be fulfilled.  After finishing his dinner Porch Cat hopped up next to Deloris and nuzzled her.  A watermelon and a pear, happy together.

 

 

 

B is for Beatrice

Beatrice spent her afternoons in the field behind her family’s home.  Under a giant weeping willow she had created the most beautiful little hideaway for herself.  Using odds and ends and some colorful sari fabric she had bought at a garage sale, Beatrice had fashioned what interior decorators would call a “boho-chic retreat.”

The day was sunny and warm, so Beatrice knotted the fabric doors to the tree so that the sunshine could pour in.  She curled up like a cat, cozy on her patchwork pillows and opened her journal.

May 16th 2008

School was lame – as usual.  I hate everyone except Denise.  Not that Denise is THAT great, but she’s ok.  We ate lunch together – as usual.  But somehow we ended up sitting next to Jessica and her gang of wannabes.  I would rather choke on a piece of steak than be friends with Jessica. Denise and I did our “thing” where we pretend to have a conversation but secretly we’re really eavesdropping.  All the girls talked about was the school dance and their dresses – lame!  Again, I would rather die – like someone could knife me in the gut – than be one of those girls.  They are an embarrassment to the entire race of females.

Beatrice paused and took a few bites of her bear paw cookie and sucked orange juice from a glass with a red licorice straw.  A ball of fur whizzed by the hideaway door – it was Len, her family’s cat.  Like most cats, Len did his own thing.  At times he would curl up next to Beatrice on her bed and purr like the cats do in commercials.  But more often than not he seemed to look at Beatrice and her family with disdain, as if he were King and they were his lowly servants.  Beatrice resumed writing.

Denise and I are OBVIOUSLY not going to the stupid dance – as if!  Denise is coming over here and we’re going to watch The Stepford Wives, it’s some creepy 1970’s movie where the men turn their wives into robot ladies.  Can you believe that?!  Men are lame.  They think they know everything and that they’re better than us.  But they better watch out! Girls like me – and Denise – we’re not going to put up with their CRAP!  Mom makes dinner for dad every single night, he NEVER cooks! There is no way that I’m cooking for my husband every night!   He can go to California Pizza Kitchen and pick up dinner twice a week.  Then HE will cook dinner twice a week and I will cook dinner twice a week.  That leaves one night for us to go out to a fancy restaurant for a fancy dinner.  That’s how it’s going to go down, otherwise I am NOT getting married.

Beatrice put down her journal and stretched her long, stick-like legs onto the grass.  She tried to imagine being a robot lady.  Just then Len strolled in, looked at her like she was useless and strolled back out.  We really need to get a dog, thought Beatrice.

 

 

 

 

 

Sally

Sally folded her socks into perfect little balls then lined them up in soldier straight lines. Next she tackled her underwear drawer, folding them in half and placing them in piles according to style: hipster, bikini, briefs.  She used plastic dividers that she had bought at the dollar store to separate them.  After adding lavender sachets to both drawers, she sat down on the edge of her bed and took a long sip of Chardonnay.

Sally had just finished reading “De-Clutter & Manifest your Dreams!” by Dr. Bryanne Goodwyn.  Dr. Goodwyn – a Lifestyle Psychiatrist – wrote that a disorganized home reflected a chaotic psyche, a psyche unfit to receive the universe’s abundance. Therefore, in order to manifest one’s dreams, a person had to first get their home in order.  “De-Clutter & Manifest your Dreams!” had come into Sally’s life at the perfect moment.  She had been struggling with how to talk with her boyfriend, Derek, about the fact that he had not yet asked her to marry him.  But since reading Dr. Goodwyn’s book, Sally realized that she was partly to blame for the fact that she still didn’t have an engagement ring. Sally’s closets, drawers and cupboards were completely disorganized, there wasn’t any room for Derek’s belongings.  The message that Sally was sending him was: “You’re not important enough to me for me to make space for you.”  Thank God for Dr. Goodwyn, it it were not for her book Sally would’t have realized that she could manifest her dreams, which included marrying Derek.

After organizing all nine dresser drawers and emptying out three of them for Derek, Sally decided to take a break and work on her visualization board.  Dr. Goodwyn recommended creating a visualization board for all the things that one wanted to manifest in one’s life. Every morning she advised focusing on the board while repeating these words:  “I have de-cluttered my life to make room for my dreams.  I am deserving.  Thank you universe for your eternal love & please help me on my journey of manifestation.”

Sally’s visualization board was massive, she had a long Manifestation List.  The top left corner was dedicated to her wedding, with photos torn out of bridal magazines.  It was going to be a summer wedding, the theme – Rustic-Chic, with flowers in mason jars and long, country farm tables.  Her dress, designed by Jessica McClintock, was strapless with a sweetheart neckline and was ivory – not white – lace.

The top right corner of Sally’s visualization board was dedicated to her obsession with Corgis – the breed of low-rider dogs that the of Queen of England was famous for owning.  She wanted two of them and she had already located a breeder in a nearby state.  Their names would be Petal and Charlie. Unfortunately Derek didn’t like dogs, he preferred cats.  In fact he took care of his neighborhood’s feral cats, about fifteen of them, leaving food and water out every night and building elaborate cat hang-outs on his front porch.  During the winter months he even had specially heated covered cat beds.  Sally had some serious visualization work to do on this issue – there was no way in hell that she was going to be known as The Crazy Cat Lady and she didn’t want Petal and Charlie getting fleas or worse, from the wretched creatures.  Sally drained her glass of wine and walked over to the fridge to pour herself another one.  For a brief moment she worried that perhaps Derek was mentally unstable. The feral cat caretaker thing was a bit much – I mean what kind of person does that?

At eight o’clock sharp the phone rang.  It was Derek, he always called her at 8:00 PM on nights when he had to work late.  “Guess what?!” he asked happily. “What?!” cried Sally, trying to contain her excitement.  “Remember how you told me about that de-cluttering book you were reading and about how in order to manifest our dreams we had to first get our house in order?”  Sally was pleasantly surprised that Derek remembered her telling him about Dr. Goodwyn’s book.  She always figured that he kind of tuned her out when she started talking about her newest self-help book.  “Yes, it’s such a great book, really empowering,” Sally said.  “I know, it’s amazing!  I read the whole thing in one sitting. Then I took the day off work today and re-organized my entire condo.  I gave away eleven bags of stuff to The Salvation Army.”  Sally felt a little irritated at the idea that Derek had co-opted her book and one-upped her by de-cluttering his entire place, Sally had only finished her bedroom.  “Wow. Congrats to you,” she said, “How do you feel?” she asked.  “I feel SO good!  Organizing and purging was somehow like the jolt that I needed to move forward with my life.  I see things more clearly now.”  Sally held her breath, this was the moment she had been waiting for.  Although a marriage proposal over the phone was not ideal, the important things was that it was happening.  She took a sip of wine as Derek continued.  “I’ve realized that my dream is to open a cat sanctuary.  I’m taking a six week intensive training course on Animal Rescue, it starts next week in Denver.  My neighbor, Mrs. Jubas, is going to take care of my feral cats while I’m away.”  Sally exhaled.  You have got to be kidding me, she thought.  “Sally, I have you to thank for this incredible turn of events in my life.  If you hadn’t told me about Dr. Goodwyn’s book, I never would have de-cluttered and manifested my dream.  I hope that you manifest all your dreams too.  Sally, are you still there?” Not only was her Rustic-Chic wedding not happening, but Derek was a better Manifestor than her.  Sally turned off her phone and walked over to her visualization board.  She tore off all the wedding pictures, but left up the sections entitled “Dream Home,” “Health & Beauty,” and “Career.”  She also kept her Corgi pictures up.  Tomorrow she would call the Corgi Breeder.  Fuck Derek and his stupid cats anyways.