The Part You're Reading

After two years of hosting the book club the same folks still come. There is quite a variety among our group. Mrs.Batinkoff to start, is a seventy year old oil painter who immigrated from Russia in the seventies. Jackie is a modern day nineteen fifties house wife. She always has her nails painted red and brings her new born baby boy, Leo,to our meetings. There's Lydia the cleaning lady from church... Mr. Clives, who I think only comes because of the recently widowed Mrs. Batinkoff.No matter what she says he agrees. Martin , a newcomer joined us in the spring. He graduated from art school and came here, like me, to open a shop. He runs a pottery gallery where he sells and displays his creations. And last but not least there is Susan-b. Her name is actually Susan-b., I still haven't figured that one out. She's a crazy lady, She reads all the time, her husband too. They run an alpaca farm several miles outside of town. Once I went to their house to pickup some alpaca wool yarn I ordered from them. Susan's husband with an equally odd name, "D.T" opened the door and told me to "Come right in." My initial thought was "how?" There were books stacked everywhere,baskets of wool and a giant spinning wheel and loom right in the middle of the living room. Six tiny dogs of various breeds and obnoxious barks nipped at my ankles and tore about the house following us at break neck speed. They ran about with their toenails clickedy clacking the wood floor. As a result of this pandemonium all the throw rugs were flung to the right or left. But was D.T deterred, oh no. He led me down a hallway that smelled like incense to a room painted pumpkin orange with beads hanging over the door. "Sue, the book girl is here." he looked at me and winked oddly. There was Susan b. in a hammock suspended from the rooms corners. She was of course reading and wearing some sort of kimono. On the way out I noticed that one of the alpacas was wearing a string of beads around his neck. My next thought was "far out". Before I know it my work out video is over. I realize that the Bronx has yet to be walked. I look out the window and see that it's still pouring. There's only one thing to do. I find my self standing by the back door with a treat in my hand acting like one of those people who possess a bumper sticker that reads "I love my grand dog." My human-like dog is staring at me. I'm waving the treat, "Come on big boy go potty , go..outside...come on handsome." I wave the treat closer for effect.He's drooling and following the treat with his eyes. I think Iv'e got him and gleefully toss the treat into the tiny back lot. He looks out,looks up and goes back to his doggy bed. I roll my eyes. Closing the door I hear thunder rumble in the distance.