----------------------------------------------- */ ----------------------------------------------- */ ----------------------------------------------- */ ----------------------------------------------- */ ----------------------------------------------- */ ----------------------------------------------- */ The Fabulous Adventures of Astera: Writer/Actress for Hire: A Bad Country Song

The Fabulous Adventures of Astera: Writer/Actress for Hire

Meet Astera (aka: me), a star in her own mind. Our plucky little heroine has embarked on not one but two difficult, low-paying career paths: writing and acting. Witness the menial jobs! The unreasonable demands! The quirky friends and family! And the glimmer of success just ahead! Through it all, Astera maintains her core beliefs: 1) She is destined to be fabulous 2) Everything is more fun with a cocktail.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

A Bad Country Song

Somehow, stealthily and not on purpose, my family has acquired all the characteristics of a bad country song. We have:

  • A beat-up truck (the water truck with the Pabst Blue Ribbon logo on it that we acquired as a piece of kitsch in homage to the Pater Familias's career.)
  • Guns (for the brothers and the Pater to shoot at clay pigeons. An aside: In idle conversation, we told a young and impressionable hostess at a restaurant about the plan to shoot clay pigeons. "Really?" she said. "Can you eat them?" We had to explain that they were, in fact, made out of clay.)
  • Moonshine (the grappa that the Pater makes in an antique copper still, using the grape skins left over after our wine is pressed.)
And now...

  • A three-legged dog.
Yes, our beloved Golden retriever, Rex, now has only three legs. He had bone cancer, and rather than put him to sleep, we decided that we should just get rid of the bad leg. Some people will think it's cruel, I'm sure, but he is an otherwise happy and loving dog, and we weren't ready to let him go. Now he won't be in pain, and the vet says that dogs can easily walk on three legs. Besides, if he were a person and had cancer, we wouldn't call up Dr. Kevorkian. We'd do anything we could to keep him alive.

So, there you have it. We've got all the country song cliches. Well, except for heartbreak. And let's keep it that way.


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