But instead, I’m gonna talk about Georgia the dog and the Mission Hills corn maze.
(in all honesty, I’m working like a madman on a rewrite of a play I’m doing a staged reading of in two weeks. All fabulous insight is currently being channeled into writing about Munchkins and blind devotion in worship. It makes sense in context, I promise.)
Here’s Miss Georgia. She belongs to Stella and Wella, and this is the first they’re hearing about this, as they were away this weekend volunteering at the brain tumor camp that I helped out with last year. Ooooooooh, I can't WAIT for that email! This is what you get, Stella and Wella! You promised me we were gonna go drinking, and then you up and leave for a brain tumor camp! Get ready for a story about what your DOG did! They’re neighbors with Norman and Nellie, so they’re watching Georgia for the weekend. And I had to be in Norman’s living room at the unfortunate hour of 9am on a Saturday morning, so you know I’m looking for any distraction other than the nonprofit board meeting at hand.
Georgia may not look it, but she’s something like 13 years old, which means she’s practically dead in dog years. She’s obviously cute and adorable, but also, as Norman pointed out,subtle and evil. (Okay fine, Norman just said she was subtle and passive aggressive. I added the evil part.) She’s like the Grandma who beats Sylvester with an umbrella in the Loony Tunes cartoon, then when the policeman turns around, instantly assumes the Innocent Grandma act, whistling, and rocking back and forth, why no, I did NOT just do anything. Except in Georgia’s case, it’s, I’m gonna hang out right by your feet and you’re gonna think I’m innocent, and the second one of the other dogs comes up, I’m gonna turn into a snarling freakazoid and attack the other dog for daring to enter my space.
Georgia is also the only dog I’ve ever seen who literally shook herself off a chair. She was sitting on the chair next to me, she decided to do one of those full body shakes that all dogs do. But the cushion slipped underneath her, and she saves herself by leaping into thin air. And I caught her. I caught the evil passive aggressive almost dead in dog years dog.
She has bad breath too. And one bottom tooth that sticks out of her mouth at all times, like a saber tooth tiger. But still is cute.
On Sunday, I went with a group of friends to the Forneris Farms corn maze in Mission Hills. This is the first time I’ve ever done something like this, and you would think a farm with a corn maze, tractor rides, a farmer’s market and kettle corn would be in a cute little remote area, maybe by a lake or something. Nope, it’s smack in the middle of Mission Hills, in between a high school and a cemetery.
The maze was rated E for Easy, but I and my group are dum dum chuckleheads, and got lost plenty of times. Yeah, they all laughed at me for eating my roasted corn on the cob before we got in the maze, they laughed as I double fisted my bottles of water. But that corn is DRY, man. Walking among row after row after row of tall tall corn stalks dehydrates you just by looking at them. I had to keep hydrated so I could mock up Children Of The Corn pictures with Maxine.
And yeah, there’s probably a metaphor there about how wandering around in a corn maze is like Moses and the Israelites wandering around the dessert for 40 years (we were in there for 40 minutes.) And how you shouldn’t just blindly follow the person in front of you (who was Nadine), but maybe look down at the map (or up at God) and stop and take stock of your life, I mean, where you think you are on the map. But that metaphor is for another time.I did get us through the Democrat donkey legs. Yeah, the part where there’s only one way to go, I ROCKED that part. Heh.
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:)
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