Killing the Gypsies

Sometimes I get tired of the same faces on coins, the same name on Sharpies, the same publishers of books. Even going to Canada or England is a small relief because the chocolate bars are different. But there is nowhere to go on this earth that can really satisfy someone with wanderlust anymore. Everywhere there will be Jeeps, Adidas, and someone will speak English. Every mile of desert, jungle, or tundra has been photographed by some supercilious satellite.

Dona Anna and the Goats

I had owned four goats before. The first one was the runt of a set of twins that belonged to my neighbor. I bottle-fed him KLIM until he grew up into a friendly but sharp-horned billy goat that hung himself while grazing on the hillside. I wrote my first tragic poem and thought I had a broken heart. I still remember my dad desparately pushing the goat's chest, trying to get him to breathe again while I stood behind him and sobbed.

My next goat was a big, brown, bossy nanny. I used to lie against her warm belly as she chewed her cud. Then she got sick and died. Our brown, shriveled, jibaro neighbor, Don Julio, said she had eaten a praying mantis.

Next came Chocolate Milk and Butter Milk. Butter Milk was a tiny white kid. I gave her a bath every day until she caught a cold and died. Our neighbor lady Dalia said goats weren't supposed to have baths. Chocolate Milk was a bigger goat that belonged to my brother. He gave her to me as consolation for Butter Milk. She probably lasted the longest, but then she got into the sweet feed pellets, gorging herself until her stomach burst.

So by the time Goodness and Mercy came along, I was experienced with goats, both living and dead. I knew, when we got back from Christmas in Michigan, that Dona Anna, the 80-year-old woman in the tiny house with the large pen of goats, was trying to give me a different Goodness than the one I left in her yard a month ago. This Goodness raised her triangular head into the air and rolled her rectangular yellow eyes in an odd fashion. But Dona Anna was adamant and we took the same Mercy and different Goodness home.

In a short while they were pregnant by the next-door long-haired billy. Being very good goats who didn't climb on any of the cars except the rusty old Nova and rarely charged mom's flower bed, they were allowed to have the run of the neighborhood. One day they didn't come back. Dona Maria said that goats often disappear when they are ready to give birth, but I always thought the new Goodness was a foundling who had led Mercy astray and Dona Anna was a twinkle-eyed, mischeivous gremlin.

The Sole, True and Entirely Accurate Account of our Trip to VA Beach

Friday: 8:00 am: *drowsily* "my mom said there was a hurricane headed this way." "oh well, let's go anyway - it'll be fun." "hope they have a roll-away bed."
Friday: 4:30 pm: "You mean you don't know how to check your oil? Do you know how to pump gas yet?"
Friday: 5:30 pm: *after politely being asked whether she was ready to go* "MICHAELA!!!! Will you STOP nagging. You sound like my MOTHER"
Friday: 6:23 pm: "Do you have any nail clippers?"
Friday: 6:35 pm: *three cell phones ring simultaneously* "Yes, mom, Michaela is driving - I'm sure it'll be fine...I think." "Maria did WHAT????" "That's fine, Brooks, just don't make out on campus."
Friday: 7:00 pm: *blabbering in the back seat* "Is that my exit?...um, is that my exit? IS THAT MY EXXIIIITTT?"
Friday: 10:35 pm: *quiet, small, extremely deserted intersection in the middle of nowhere* "There were too gas signs back there." *four voices* "MICCCHHHHAAEEEELAAA." "OH SH***" "D*** IT." "WHAT ARE YOU DOIINNGG?"
Friday: 11:00 pm: "did you say there was a continental breakfast?" "it's a Days Inn?" "Yuck"
Saturday: 12:00 am "there's no roll away?" "look - my knees hang of the edge of the bed." "maybe we should let the two little people sleep in one bed so we don't crush them." Friday: Saturday: 12:03 am: "MICCHHHAEEELAAA - you can't go out there - you're in your pajamas!!!!"
Saturday: 7:30 am: "oh look - they have donuts!" "MICHHAEEELAA - what did you do to the coffee maker?" "can we stop at Starbucks?"
Saturday: 9:30 am: "gosh, there sure is a lot of SAND everywhere."
Saturday: 10:00 am: "MICHHAEELLA - don't you dare take a picture back there!!!!!"
Saturday: 1:00 pm: "Are those kids feeding sea gulls? I HATE sea gulls."
Saturday: 5:00 pm: "I KNOW there's a Haggen Daz around here somewhere....." "Can we just stop at the Dairy Queen." "NOOOO."
Saturday: 5:20 pm: "Can we stop at Starbucks?"
Saturday: 6:00 pm: "Ouch - my AASSSSS is burnt!!!"