I could have succeeded if it weren't for those pesky God and Jesus fellows

The day before Mik left we were listening to music, drinking tea, sitting on the front porch, alternating control Cope. A Ryan Adams song came on.
"He just sounds hot," she said.
"He is at that," I said.

She loaded her stuff into the car, hugged me goodbye and said she figured she'd be back around October-since she'd be homeless by then. Ya never know, do you?
I picked Coupland up and stood him on the hood of the car.
"One last thing," I said.
I moved Little Man up so he was standing on his hindlegs, "Holy Ghost!" I held his paws over his head and waved them about like a ghost on Scooby Doo. "Holy Ghost!"
She smiled and looked sad.
"Holy Ghost," I said, "This is not an episode of Scooby Doo."
Soon as she was gone he started limping. I called Mum concerned, she said, "Well, I don't know, that dog's a con artist you know. He might be playing you."
No dog of mine! NO!

"How's Limpy Dog?" Dad asked.
"He's the worst. It was a game."
"Thought as much."
"Oh it gets worse than the faux limp, Da! The other day we were walking and Cope decided he'd gone far enough, so he laid down. Did dead weight. I couldn't make him walk for anything. So-what could I do? I picked him up to carry him home. This woman comes running across the yard yelling 'Is that a hurt cat? Is something wrong?' I had to tell her, no, it's not a hurt cat, it's a brat dog."
"And I can imagine while you're talking to her he was doin' back flips and jumping up and down..."
"Oh, and juggling and shit, yeh."
"Soon as she was gone, he made you carry him home."
"So you were there."
"I know the kind."
"By the way, I'm thinking of getting a second small dog and calling it Colbert. So I have Copie and Colby. Wouldn't that be cute?"
"So cute," he said in monotone.
"You already want to dogsit them don't you?"
"Yes, certainly" he didn't convince me. "You know, you should wait another six months, because once you get a job I'm going to find you a place to live and I'll be retired so I can help you remodel."
Oh dear-Daddy's already moving in. How very Frasier.

Made my town hall debut last AM. I think I was a success.
Every comment I received was very positive, and from many the impressive source. I'd been scared shitless, particularly after some of the grillings I'd seen people getting. This was not a forgiving crowd.
"How does it feel?" Erika asked.
"Well, you know I," I rolled my eyes into my head, trying to think of something clever.
"You don't have to be witty you know, you can just feel gratitude."
"Alright then, I am very grateful. Mik calls it a post-performance high. I feel like I could do that sort of thing again, maybe I should become an actor! Oh wait-no-the family already has one of those."
"Perhaps an academic?" she said.
Oh. Well. I had kind of given up on that. But I suppose she has a point.