A Note to the Reader -- And a Bonus

Now you know what has happened "previously on Meet the McDonalds."  Starting next week, new episodes will appear weekly (depending my Charlie's life and my imagination), with occasional marathons of related posts in place of Memories Monday, which was getting confusing even to me.

To hold you over:

Word Choice

Alice Barrett

My parents died.

My dogs and cats passed away.

My old loves kicked off.

(And not a minute too soon;

It served them right,)

My favorite professor was killed;

His car went over a cliff. 

"He offed himself," we said.

How will they phrase it

When I’m no longer here?

 Light in a Churchyard

Alice Barrett

In the early autumn late afternoon,

Tea-stained gold sunlight

Splashes through the umbrella

Of the magnolia’s leaves,
Into the birdbath
Between the chapel

And the parish hall.

  

Although best known for her fiction (The Story Lovers, The Cod), Alice Barrett first came to attention through her poetry.  Her collections include Rings on Tables and Hoping for Lies.  

McDonalds Marathon -- The Spiral Staircase

I had forgotten my lunch, and as I was coming out of the library to go to the snack bar, I ran into Michele.

"Why, Charlotte, what a nice surprise! I’m having lunch with Emily, but she’s tied up in a meeting and told me to sightsee. And I remembered what you said about the library. It’s lovely." The College has two libraries. The science library is in a modern building from the turn of this century and liberal arts library is from the turn of the last century. It has stained glass windows and hardwood floors.

I decided I could quickly show Michele around and still get to the snack bar. "Do you want to see basement first? It’s full of old files and really creepy. In a fun way." I didn’t explain that whenever anybody calls me Charlotte, I feel like I’m being scolded and anyway I didn’t.

"Fun?"

I felt I’d said the wrong thing. "Or we can go up to the top floor where the 800’s are. You know literature and sh—things."

The spiral staircase is like something out of a Victorian murder mystery and when you get to the top floor, you can see most of the campus. The 800’s don’t get a lot of scholastic action and it was deserted.

"What a wonderful place to escape everything, Just you and all these stories."

I don’t know how she knew that I liked to come up there on my breaks. "It makes me sad, sometimes. All these books just sitting and waiting and gathering dust. And the authors are probably dead."

"But that’s what makes it so special isn’t it? I’m so glad you shared it with me."

"I’m glad you like it." I’d never told anyone about it except Ed, and then we started reminiscing about the stacks at our old college where people came to get high and make out.

I went to the window. "It’s so pretty in the fall."

"Yes, isn’t it?" Michele was standing in back of me. I didn’t know what to say next, so I just stood there trying to think of something.

"You know, Charlotte, . . ." Michele began, but all of a sudden there was a crash. Someone somewhere had knocked some books off a shelf.

I had to get back to work and Michele had to meet Emily. I got some crackers and soda out of the food machine. I didn’t feel like eating, though.



McDonalds Marathon -- My Dinner with Michele

I had expected Michele to be gorgeous, either in a hippie bohemian way or a cool bad girl motorcycle jacket way.  Emily didn’t have any pictures.  She said it was too painful.

But when I met Michele, she reminded me of Joyce Carol Oates.  Ms. Oates (I feel odd calling her Joyce or Joyce Carol) is a great writer and probably a nice person, but she doesn’t do anything for me sexually.  And I can’t see her doing anything for anyone else.  But what do I know?

“I’ve been so wanting to meet you,” she said.  “Poor Emily does need taking care of doesn’t she?”  I was surprised that she didn’t scold me for getting Emily in a situation that broke her heart.  But as Karen pointed out, our efforts had put Emily in a position where she was a sitting duck for Michele. 

The three of us had dinner at Emily’s;  Michele was staying there.  I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, but Nikki said it really didn’t make any difference.  If Michele wanted Emily again, she could get her wherever she was.

Michele is quiet but very intense, with a way of looking at you straight in the eye as if whatever you said was very important to her.  When Emily was in the kitchen, Michele leaned forward.  “How is she doing?  I’ve been very concerned.”

“I don’t know.  She still sees Alice and she swears she knows they’ll never be more than friends, but . . . I don’t know.  I feel terrible for starting this.”

“It must be very hard for you.  But you really shouldn’t beat yourself up.  You wanted to help a friend.”  She reached over and patted my hand.

“Well, yes.”  For some reason I felt a little funny, but then Emily brought in the spaghetti.

“Just the way you used to make it with the cloves,” Michele said, smiling at Emily. “This is my all-time favorite spaghetti sauce,” she said to me, as if she was confiding a secret, like she'd lied about her age on Facebook. “It was the first real dinner we shared.”

Shared?  She sounded like a character in a Bible movie.

Emily giggled.  “We were going to go to the movies afterward, but we never got there.”

For a change I got something.

“Did you ever get to see the movie?”

“Oh, Charlie,” Emily laughed.  “Charlie thinks of things nobody else does,” she said to Michele.  Then she looked sad.  “So does Alice.”

“Do you, Charlie?”

I felt flustered and started going over my repertoire in my head.  I’d really rather do my wives of Henry VIII trick.

“You must be very creative.  Creativity is a real gift.”

“Thank you.”

“I love your blog.  You have such a feeling for people’s idiosyncrasies.”

“I’m glad you enjoy it. . . Have you done any sightseeing?  Not that there’s that many sights.  Of course the college is beautiful.  The library has a great spiral staircase.  And if you’re here on Sunday, you should go to Mass at Epiphany.   The high Mass is at ten.  Does incense bother you?  It doesn’t bother me, but my husband said worlds would collide if we went to his mother’s church, so we go to Trinity.  It’s Low Church, but I don’t mind.  Cilla would like more pageantry, but I tell her she’ll have to wait until she can drive herself there.  That won’t be until she’s sixteen or maybe even eighteen.  I want to hold off on the kids driving as long as possible.  They’re pretty responsible kids, but with all the crazies out there, you never know.”

“Charlie knows all the wives of Henry VIII and the husbands of Elizabeth Taylor.”

“Oh, let’s not make Charlie perform,” Michele said.  “It’s so much more fun just talking.” And she smiled at me.

Emily had carrot cake from the organic bakery for dessert.

“I know it’s both of you’s favorite.  Or both of your favorite.  Or the favorite of both of you."  Emily giggled again.  "Here I am an English professor making grammar mistakes.”  

I was glad I didn’t get the history of the two of them and carrot cake.

We really did have a nice dinner and I liked Michele in spite of all the awful stories about her.  She hugged me and said, “I’ve really enjoyed meeting you,” and squeezed my hand.

I’ve had Emily’s spaghetti and the bakery’s carrot cake before, so I don’t know what it was that made my stomach feel uncomfortable.

McDonalds Marathon -- Alice is Blocked

Emily is still talking to Michele and hanging out with Alice.  Wendy tried to talk to her, but it didn’t help much.  Now I have two of them to deal with.  Alice feels guilty and keeps asking me if she should give Lesbianism another shot.

“What if it doesn’t work out again?  Then you and Emily would feel even worse.”

Alice is going to stay for the next academic year.  I don’t know if it would have been worse if she’d gotten another job. 

Then she called me up and asked me if I knew of a good therapist.  If I weren’t so modern, I might I have been insulted that she’d think I would know of one.  But I just laughed.  “I’ve never been to one.”

“You’re kidding!  Doesn’t everyone go to a therapist?  Would Karen or Nikki know of one?”

“Maybe, but I don’t know if they ever have either.”

“Golly,” Alice said. “I feel as if I’m in Never Never Land where everybody is always happy.”

“Aren’t you happy?  Except for this mess with Emily, I mean?”  Alice is one of the most cheerful people I’ve ever met.  She told me that it’s her gimmick.  People expect writers to be dark and gloomy, so people who hire writers for lectures or guest professorships see her as a breath of fresh air.

“Well, actually I am usually.  Most of my friends can’t understand it.  But I’m blocked and it’s driving me nuts.”

I didn’t know what she meant.  I love Alice, but I didn’t feel up to discussing her gastro-intestinal problems.  I don’t even like delivery room stories.  “Have you seen a doctor?” 

“No . . . I think I can manage with a psychologist.”

I’m all for the mind-body connection and being holistic, but it can go too far. “Don’t mess around with this.  You could get impacted.”

Alice didn’t say anything for a minute.  Then she laughed.  “No, I mean I have writer’s block.  I sit down to write and I can’t come up with anything.  So I go on Facebook.  Then I get so upset with myself that I eat.  I threw away all the cookies in the house, but the next day I went out and got a box of Lucky Charms.  I picked all the marshmallows out and then I got another box.  This has never happened to me before.”

“Why don’t you talk to Kate?  I’m sure she’s always recommending therapists to people."

“Oh, thank you.  I hadn’t thought of that. I’ve eaten all the marshmallows in the second box and it’s so bad I’m eating the cereal.”

I didn’t tell Alice that you can get bags of cereal marshmallows on the Internet.  Nikki told me.  But picking the chunks out of the granola is good enough for me.

The good news is that right after she got off the phone with me, Alice sat down and started a story about a town where everyone is happy.   And it’s not science fiction.  She says she might even turn it into a novel.

The bad news is that the next call was from Emily telling me that Michele is coming for a visit.

McDonald's Marathon -- Emergency Conference

I got Wendy’s phone number from Emily and called her.  She was pleased to hear from me, but very negative about Alice (AKA “that bitch”).  I told her that Alice felt terrible and she loves Emily as a friend.  And since the general understanding is that they had been a couple and that Alice had been the breaker-upper, Emily got custody of the church.  Alice started going to our church, and when the kids asked why, she said the incense at Epiphany gave her a headache. 

And Emily also got custody of the friends, except for a few who wanted to be “non-binary” and stay friends with both of them and some who hit on Alice.  She was flattered, but she wondered if they were doing it because they thought she was fast and just wanted a quick pop.

Wendy’s comment was “Boo effing hoo,” but she didn’t say “effing.”

“But anyway,” I said, trying to get the conversation back on track, “The problem isn’t Alice.  Emily will probably meet someone someday.  But the problem is that she’s talking to Michele.”  I didn’t know if I should call Michele “that bitch.”  It’s not a good idea to criticize someone’s ex; you never know if they’ll get back together, especially in that crowd.

“Shoot,” Wendy said.  “Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot.”  And of course that isn’t really what she said.

“Is Michele seeing anyone?”

“There’s a very nice new woman in our group that she seems to have her eye on.”

“Wait a minute.”  I practically had to pick my jaw up off the ground.  “You’re still in the group?”

Wendy seemed surprised that I was surprised.  “It’s kind of a small community.  It’s like a family; you get mad at each other, but you have to stick together and deep down you love each other.  And everybody knows everybody else’s secrets.”

That sounded a little like incest to me, but of course I didn’t say anything.  “Can’t you warn her?” 

“Oh, we’ve tried.  But once Michele’s interested, you’re a goner.  We’re going to be very supportive, though, when it’s over.  Actually, I don’t think it’s started.  But then again, maybe it has.  It’s kind of confusing.”

To say the least.

“So you don’t think Michele is really after Emily?”

Wendy sighed.  “Who knows?  Fortunately, she’s not here.”

“But what can we do?” 

“Find someone else for her.  Get her to go to therapy.  Start a support group.  How should I know?  She got herself into this mess.  Or That Bitch did.” 

I decided to change the subject.  “Are you seeing anyone?”

Wendy sighed again.  “I’m on a break.  I can’t decide if it’s because I need some peace or if it’s just no one is interested.  I just wish I could find the right woman and settle down, even get married one day.  Actually, I’m mad at myself for wasting all that time with Michele, when I knew what would happen.”

“Don’t beat yourself up.  Emily said no one can help herself when it comes to Michele.”

“Well, she’s got that right.”

“Listen, Wendy, Emily knows I’m going to call you and she probably figured out why.  Maybe you can talk some sense into her.  Never mind Alice, just get her away from Michele.”

“Sure, why not?  Is this a Jane Austen novel or what?”

“I like to think of my life as a quirky independent comedy.”

“Or maybe it’s the court of Henry the Eighth.”

“Well, you know what went on there.”

I would have liked to have discussed more metaphors for my life, but Duke had just stolen a piece of pizza off the table and Cilla was chasing him.  We promised to talk again soon.

McDonalds Marathon -- Emily and Alice -- Still Hanging Out -- Plus a Bonus Recipe!

Emily may have just been being brave when she said that she was relieved that her friendship with Alice wouldn’t be ruined by becoming a Relationship.  Or maybe she just hadn’t understood how much she had counted on it.  She and Alice are still hanging out and running around.  Alice told her that if a prospect came up when they had plans, she would be happy to step aside.  But nothing seemed to come up.

I was worried about how we could get the word out that Alice and Emily weren’t a couple.  We asked Janet to tell her friends at Epiphany, so it would get around. Emily asked Janet to give the impression that they had really been a couple; she was embarrassed that she had been so wrong. We told Emily not to go to church that day; that would have been awkward.  But by Sunday afternoon, the women from Epiphany were calling and asking her to dinner.  The problem was that they were all couples who were trying to be supportive.  They all but brought over casseroles. 

Kate did not have to ask Emily how she felt about it.  Emily was only too happy to tell her.  I told her how I felt about my matchmaking going wrong.  Really crummy.

Then Emily told me that she had been talking to her ex, Michele.

I called Karen and Nikki for an emergency meeting.  “Michele is bad news,” I said.  “But Emily said that she really needed to talk to someone who knew about breaking up.  We’re all married.”

“Can’t she talk to Wendy?”*

“Wendy was never that enthusiastic about Alice.  Now she’s mad.  She had one of Alice’s books and she burned it in Emily’s honor.  When she talks to Emily, she calls Alice 'that bitch.’”

We all agreed that Wendy was a real friend.

“Maybe Emily has lost her faith in love and is taking bitch lessons.”

“Really, Nikki” I said.  “Just because you’re married to a European, you don’t have to be sophisticated all the time.”

“I read that Agatha Christie used to say that the worst explanation for something was usually the right one. “

“Should we have an intervention?”

“I don’t think it’s that bad yet.  But let’s keep it in mind.”

“When my high school boyfriend broke up with me, I stayed in my room and cried for a whole weekend.  My mother refused to let me stay home from school.” Karen reminisced. “But she baked my favorite cookies.  I couldn’t eat, so my sister and brother got them, but my mom froze some for me.”

“What kind of cookies?”   I asked.

“Oatmeal Scotchies.  They have butterscotch chips and you put in a little orange exact.  It sounds weird, but it’s good.”

“What happened to the boy?”  Nikki wanted to know.

“I ran into him a couple of years ago.  He sells insurance and gave me his card.  He’s losing his hair.”

“Serves him right.”

“Do you have the recipe?”

“I think my mom still does.  I’ll get it for you.” 

Now I know what I can make for Girls’ Night.

We decided to wait on the intervention, but I’m going to ask Emily for Wendy’s number.  Maybe she can head off Michele.

*To sort out everyone, see “Emily Has a Past”. February 6, 2015.

Karen’s Mom’s Oatmeal Scotchies

o    1/2 Pound(s) (2 sticks) margarine or butter, softened

o    3/4 Cup(s) granulated sugar

o    3/4 Cup(s) firmly packed brown sugar

o    2 Eggs

o    1 Teaspoon(s) vanilla

o    1-1/4 Cup(s) all-purpose flour

o    1 Teaspoon(s) Baking Soda

o    1/2 Teaspoon(s) salt (optional)

o    3 Cup(s) Quaker^® Oats (quick or old fashioned, uncooked)

o    1 package(s) (11 oz.) butterscotch flavored chips

o    Orange extract to equal the peel of one orange

PREPARATION:

Heat oven to 375°F. In large bowl, beat margarine and sugars until creamy. Add eggs and vanilla; beat well. Add combined flour, baking soda and salt; mix well. Add oats and butterscotch morsels; mix well. Drop dough by level tablespoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake 7 to 8 minutes for a chewy cookie or 9 to 10 minutes for a crisp cookie. Cool 2 minutes on cookie sheets; remove to wire rack. Cool completely. Store tightly covered.

McDonalds Marathon -- Breaking the News

I wasn’t looking forward to telling Emily that Alice was straight.  No matter how sophisticated or well-adjusted you are, you still don’t like to hear that someone isn’t interested in you sexually, or as Nikki put it, “Isn't hot to jump your bones.”

“I guess, I should have known,” Emily sighed.  “One time Alice asked me if I thought Christina Rossetti was gay.  If you’re gay, straight people seem to think you know every gay person in history.  It was a red flag.  But of course, I didn’t pay attention, because I didn’t want to.  I told myself that she wouldn’t know every gay person in history even if she was gay.”

“You must find that very annoying,” I said.

“It’s kind of funny, really.”

“Is there anything I can do?”  If I were single, this would have been the moment when we realized we loved each other, at least in a movie.

“No.”  Then Emily laughed.  “I just realized I’m relieved because Alice and I can still be friends.  It wouldn’t have been worth the friendship if we’d gotten together and it didn’t work out.  If it’s the real thing, you think it would be worth taking the risk.”

“Was it worth the risk with Wendy?”

“Yes, it was, actually. We were really lucky that we stayed friends.  She’s been single since she threw Michele out.  I’ve been telling her about Alice and she’s been kind of negative.  I don’t know why.”

“She doesn’t want you to get hurt.  She sounds like a good egg.”

“Oh, she is.”  Emily looked a little wistful.  “Now we’ll have to start all over again.”

I was glad that said “we.”  “I bet Alice will help too. Maybe she knows some writers.”
Alice is a good egg, too.  “By the way, was Christina Rossetti gay?”

“I told Alice that I don’t know about Christina.”  (English professors have a way of referring to authors by their first names.  It can give you the impression that they know them.)  “My specialty is American literature.”

I would have asked her what she thought about Emily Dickinson, but I didn’t want to be one of those people who are always asking who’s gay and who isn’t.

McDonald's Marathon -- A Waste of Atmosphere -- Charlie Goes and Asks Alice

We’ve all been trying to figure out what’s going with Alice.  Does she want to be friends with Emily or more?  Once again, I asked Janet to check things out and she talked to somebody who talked to somebody.  The Lesbian community thinks they are a couple.  They ought to know, but they don’t.  Finally, I couldn’t stand the suspense any longer.  “I’m going to have lunch with Alice,” I told Emily.  "And I’m going to ask her what her intentions are.”

Emily looked relieved.  “I guess it’s better to know.  Even if it’s bad news.  I can’t really trust my judgment because I can imagine all kinds of possibilities, but I can’t tell which are more likely.  I figured that you can have discernment or imagination, but not both.  I got imagination.”

“How do you feel about that?”  Who did I think I was, Kate?  And how did I feel about that?

“I’ve resigned myself.  But sometimes I wish my talent had been for math.”  

I knew what she meant.  All my life I’ve imagined at least three explanations for any situation.  It was another reason my mother had worried about how I was going to get along in the world.

I called Alice and said I really needed to talk to her and could we have lunch?  Alice said, “Oh, gosh.  Sure.  Is everything OK?”

“Oh, sure. Nothing major.”  It occurred to me that maybe Alice thought I was after her.  I wondered how she would feel about that.

We met at The Grotto, an Italian restaurant that is charmingly shabby with a waterfall and pictures of Jesus, the Pope, and Frank Sinatra.  It’s kind of dark and there are alcoves.  There were a few professors basically drinking their lunch and a couple who were paying too much attention to each other to be married, although they both had wedding rings.  I had thought it would be a good place to have a delicate conversation, but when I got there, it occurred to me that if I wanted to hit on someone, it would be the perfect place.  I wondered if that would occur to Alice.

“This is great,” she said.  “So atmospheric.”  I was glad she hadn’t said “romantic.”

I thought I’d better wait till we had something to eat to bring up the Situation.  If it turned into a drama, I didn’t want to miss my lunch.  We were on our second piece of pizza when I decided to open the discussion.

“Well,” I said, “I guess you wonder what I needed to talk about.”

“Well. Yeah.  Is everything all right with Ed and the kids?”

“Oh, Ed is fine, the kids are fine, Duke and Nigel are fine.  I’m fine.  My job is fine.  Karen and Nikki are fine.” 

“That’s fine.  I mean, I’m glad.”

“But Emily isn’t so fine.”

Alice looked scared.  “Is she sick?  Is she mad at me?”

“No, she’s fi . . . I mean she’s well.  And she’s not mad, but she’s very confused.”

“I don’t understand.”

 I took a deep breath.  “Alice, what’s your deal?  Are you gay?  Are you interested in Emily?”

In a movie Alice would have choked on her iced tea.  But she just sighed and looked sad.

 “Years ago I tried to be a Lesbian, but it didn’t work out.  I don’t know if I just didn’t meet the right woman or what.  I had lots of terrific friends, though.  It might have been the Reverse Katharine Hepburn Syndrome.  Everyone knew I was straight but me,”

The Syndrome certainly gets around.

“So I dated men,” Alice continued.  “I had some wild and crazy times, but it got to be too much trouble.  It was interfering with my writing time . . . Anyway, I love Emily as a friend, but I guess that’s the best I can do.  Tell Emily I’m really sorry.  But if it will make her feel any better, I haven’t had sex for four years.”

“Poor Emily.  She’ll be very disappointed.”  I didn’t know what to say about Alice’s sex life.

“Do you think she’ll still want to be friends?”  Alice sounded wistful.

“Emily was in a support group with the woman who had dumped her, the woman she had dumped for her, and the woman she had been dumped for.  All at the same time.  I guess she can handle it.”

Alice was impressed.  “She never told me about that.” 

It was time to go.  “I’ll call you after I talk to Emily,” I promised.

We were going in opposite directions, and as I watched Alice walk away, I thought it would make a great final scene for a movie.  But it should be in autumn, with leaves falling, not spring.

Mcdonalds Marathon -- Alice's Intentions

Emily and Alice have been Hanging Out.  They have lunch together most days.  They rent movies and Discuss them.  They’ve also been Running Around, going to lectures and concerts and even services at Epiphany.  (Alice thinks Kate is “terrific.”)  When Emily’s Lesbian friends have a party, they invite both of them.

But nothing else has happened.  If they have coffee after running around, all Emily gets is coffee.  Tea, actually.

It was driving Emily crazy.  “Why doesn’t she make a move?”

“Well, maybe she’s afraid of rejection.  Maybe she’s really interested, but she hasn’t had any experience.  Maybe she’s having such a good time being friends that she doesn’t want to spoil it.  Maybe  she doesn’t want you to think she’s fast.”

Emily snorted.  “After all this time, that is no longer possible.”

“Why don’t you make a move?”

“All of the above, except for the experience part,”

“Maybe you should call Michele and ask for some pointers.  Just kidding.”   Emily hasn’t talked to Michele in years.  I can’t decide if it’s sophisticated or tacky to call your ex to ask advice about hooking up with someone else.  The only person I could imagine doing anything like that was Michele herself.  She has become kind of a legend.

“That might not be such a crazy idea.”

My life is turning into a John Updike novel!  Or is it a Woody Allen movie?

McDonalds Marathon -- Alice Meets the Gang

Alice came to Girls’ Night and brought chocolate chip cookies.  That was a relief, because we had Easter candy that I’d set aside and a bunny cake that Karen had made.  I was afraid that as an Author she would be a fancy cheese and crackers person.  Nikki, who likes being irreverent, especially since Karen has become a churchlady and she feels outnumbered, brought a gigantic chocolate cross and apologized that she hadn’t been able to find one with Jesus on it.  Alice looked as if she didn’t know whether to laugh or not.  I thought Nikki would have wanted to make a good impression.  You never know who has what issues. 

“I hope you’re not offended,” I said.

“Oh, no.  I was just thinking that if they did have crosses with Jesus, it would be really neat if they made him out of marzipan.  You can’t get the details with chocolate.”

“I’d feel funny eating Jesus,” Emily said.

“Well, I guess you would.  But what about the Blessed Virgin Mother?” 

“I meant a marzipan one,” Emily said with dignity.  For a minute I couldn't figure out why everyone was laughing or shrieking, and then I got it. 

“Alice thinks of things nobody else has ever thought of,” Emily giggled, almost with a hint of pride in her voice, as if Alice were her granddaughter or niece.  (Mothers wouldn’t be proud; they’d worry about how you were going to get along in the world.  And I should know.)

“Charlie does, too,” Karen said, sounding like one of those mothers at parties who compare how quickly their children are being toilet trained over the guacamole.  “Tell them what you said about the Ugly Duckling.”

I felt like a child being called on to perform, proud but a little shy.  “Well, I said that the Duckling would have been so traumatized by being ostracized that he wouldn’t have been able to enjoy being a swan.”

“And . . .” Karen prompted.

“And I thought that maybe he would still be shut out because he was still different, especially since he was better looking.”

Alice nodded.  “I wonder if the ducks would have thought he was better looking – if they had any basis for comparison.  Not that it would make much difference.  Remember that old Twilight Zone with the woman who played Elly May Clampett getting plastic surgery?  She was beautiful, but it turned out that the operation hadn’t worked, because everybody else looked like pigs.  Fortunately, they sent her to an island with other people who had the same problem.”

“Yeah, and they introduced her to this cute guy, and she was all ‘Eww.’”  Karen has a tendency to talk like a tweenager.  She is a librarian at a middle school.   

“I just hope he told them to bug off and found some nice swans to hang out with.”

“Or duck off,” Nikki said, and we started laughing again.

Alice is going to fit right in.

The next day, I called Nikki to ask what she thought about Alice as a prospect.  “Well, they seem kind of comfortable with each other.  I don’t know if that’s good or bad.  Great for friendship, not so much for romance.  But Alice likes her.  We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Did you feel any sexual tension?”

“Honey, I’ve been married so long, I wouldn’t know sexual tension if it came up and bit my butt.”  Nikki likes to sound world weary and sophisticated.  She says that’s what people expect when you’re married to a European.

I know she didn’t mean that, but I didn’t want to say anything and have her asking about the sexual currents in my life.  Actually I wouldn’t have known what to say.  I’ll have to talk to Ed about it. 

McDonald's Marathon -- Trying to Avoid Being Tacky

Naturally Emily wanted to know what I thought of Alice.  I said I liked her and I hoped she would come to Girls’ Night.

“No, I mean as a prospect.”

Emily has been getting more attention now that the Lesbian community knows that she is interested in more than hanging out and getting away from men.  But it’s not going too well.  Everyone is either in a relationship, getting over a devastating breakup, or “going through a period where she needs to be free.”  But everyone wanted to be her friend and some offered benefits.  Emily couldn’t handle that and berated herself for being bourgeois, neurotic, and possessive.  I told her that the Brontes couldn’t have handled being a friend with benefits either.

So Alice is looking pretty promising.  Unless she is straight.

“Can’t you ask her?”

“It’s kind of tacky.”

At least when you date men you know where you stand.  The only uncertainty is when he is going to pounce.

Karen and Nikki were all excited about meeting Alice.  They even got copies of her books out of the library.  Karen said she was “a hoot.”  Nikki said she wrote like a “real wiseass in a twin set.”  She meant that as a compliment.

We tried to figure out if she was gay from her writing, but we couldn’t.  Anyway, that is bad criticism.  You’re not supposed to assume that a person’s work reflects their life.