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  December 15, 1999
Lesbian Guinea Pigs

Cycle 3, Day 2
Temp: 97.7
Cervical Mucus: AF
Cervix: Low, closed, firm

 
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richmond@kjsl.com
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Run, run, run.
See Carrie run.
Run, Carrie, run.

Used my lunch break to run to the post office, run to the pet store for guinea pig food, run to feed the piggies, run to feed myself. Run, run, run. The post office had a line practically out to the parking lot. Run faster, Carrie, faster! At least the guinea pigs were happy to see me; they didn't care whether I was a few minutes late. And I brought them a paper bag, joy of joys! In and out, in and out.

These days I have to giggle when somebody asks me whether they're both girls. The answer is yes, but you wouldn't know it lately. The newest and coolest game is for one or the other to pretend to be a boy, rumbling around and shaking their butt in the air, while the other girl squeals and tries to hide from the "big, bad man." Sometimes Oriana, the older pig, manages to actually get on top of Cressida. It's pretty hilarious, but a bit disconcerting. I have lesbian guinea pigs. Should I charge admission?

When they started this act at my grandmother's over Thanksgiving, we quickly took them out of the room; no sense in prematurely giving my tiny cousins' parents more things to explain to the youngsters.


While I'm relating disgustingly cute stories, let me add this anecdote. I'm sitting here at the desk in the library, when this five-year-old boy comes shyly up.

"Can I help you?" says I.
"Do you have any books on...um, reading?" says he. "Books on how to read."

I guess he wanted to skip to the chase and avoid Dick and Jane entirely.


The saga of Eric's car continues. If you'll remember, the garage (which I shan't name, but will henceforth be known as "SchleppBoys") still had the car, and had told us they would look at the car on Monday morning, being unable to examine it on Sunday. Monday came and went, and when Eric called, they still hadn't looked at it. The manager was very apologetic. Last night, we called again, and they had diagnosed the thing as needing upwards of $300 worth of engine repair.

"Unacceptable," we say. "The car ran like a dream before we got it to you. Six hours in your care, and it runs like garbage. Tell us why we should believe you when you say this problem just spontaneously happened."

They dropped the labor costs and took a quarter off the parts, which would have been okay with Eric, had it actually worked. It didn't.

Anyhow, SchleppBoys is now convinced it's an injector problem, and they won't charge us at all for the work they did yesterday. They've knocked about $600 worth of labor off the process, so that's good, but we need the car. Eric's been bumming rides from people at work, but it can't really continue.

I think I'll raise my kids to be mechanics.



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