Otters, Dogs & Ponies

[mallorys_camera]

The Little Otter was swimming so close to shore yesterday that I was deathly afraid he might beach himself. How do you dive in six inches of water? He seemed to be looking at us. I immediately hatched an elaborate fantasy about a race of silkies living in close proximity with humans in a small seaside village, Monterey or (even better) Mendocino. The silkies would all be living on houseboats, collecting welfare though the more enterprising among them might land employment as lifeguards, fishermen or marine biologists. There was a narrative that hinged on a social worker who stumbles upon the secret when she has to track a family of strange, sleek, black-haired silkie children through the juvenile court system. It had all vanished by the time I got back to the car.

The Little Otter was back again today but this time I'd found company, a pleasant man in his late sixties with a hairy back, a foreign accent, and a tribe of Boston terriers. Since the main influence in Milo's life is Xena, he sees himself as a Jack Russell terrier so the dogs all got along famously while the man and I talked – about nothing, about dogs, about life, about otters. The man had all the warmth, intelligence, vitality I associate with being Jewish. I had to fight down the impulse to ask, "Are you having a sedar? Would you invite me?"

I'm yearning for my tribe…

And I'm very tired. April has been just a miserable month for the store, no respite from winter at all as far as lackluster sales go. I'm sick of lying to vendors – "The check is in the mail!" I'm sick of playing three card monty with the remaining bills. On the one hand we have guys like the investment banker who came into the store last weekend, handed me his card and said, "I'm in the process of buying a deadbeat winery. I'm gonna try to turn it around. But hey! I wish I'd seen your store first. This has franchise potential!" On the other the store's fortunes are tied to the fortunes of Monterey as a tourist destination and there ain't no one comin' to Monterey.

We're doing our first official hot sauce tasting tomorrow – a dog and pony show for the Central Coast Young Ranchers and Farmers, a fraternal organization of wealthy young landowners and directors of product development for the various agricultural consortiums hereabouts. I am in the process of writing, designing and printing up humorous little menus to go with the tasting: Ring of Fire Tomatillo: a delectable blend of fresh tomatillos, roasted garlic and four kinds of chili, flavored with cilantro and just a hint of lime. Prepared in small batches for a garden fresh taste. The perfect compliment to that frozen burrito that even your dog refuses to eat… My head is pounding. Maybe it's a brain tumor! I think hopefully, dreaming of morphine drips and total bed rest. Dying tragically young and tragically under-appreciated would be such a small price to pay.

Comments

[wailaki.livejournal.com]

I loved your story about the Mendocino silkies on their boat, only they would have to live in Noyo Harbor with the Portuguese. But, hey. Why don't you write it when the customer level is low? It beats wishing for a brain tumor. Maybe a "young adult" kind of book, like Alice Hoffman writes. SO lucrative. And you have that twisted cynic fairy princess thing going onthat girls would love. Not to mention your wicked humor. Anyway, it's too late for you to die young. So you might as well write a best seller.

[mallorys-camera.livejournal.com]

Noyo Harbor, yes! Maybe a Romeo & Juliet type story, silkie girl, human boy. What do you mean I'm too old to die young? Why, the glaciers have scarcely moved an inch since I was born!