July 27 – The Ride Her’s Conference

      My buddy’s back.  The Geezer was off to a writer’s conference somewhere up state.  Gainesville I think.  Mrs. Gator is great company, but I sure miss ole Geezer when he’s gone.  No dockside morning chats, walks on the Bokeelia beach, and a reduced quantity of treats.
      We sat on the dock this AM; the Geezer yakked and I listened.  Well, mostly  listened.  I asked, “How was the conference?”
      “Very good, Sandy.  The instructors were first rate and there were a lot of interesting writers attending.  I enjoyed the classes more than usual and I don’t think I’ve ever attended one I got more writing help and inspiration from.  They got the creative juices flowing.  I’m enthused and ready to go to work.”
     “Good, Gator.  Who was most interesting?”
     “You know, I usually could tell you without hesitation.  This time, every class I attended was really worthwhile.  Jamie the screen play writer gave me a unique prospective on approaching compact creativity, Michael really enlightened me on adding subtlety to my work, ways to add tension, his classes were tremendous, so were Carolyn, Sarah, and the Ghost.  I particularly liked the Ghost.”
      “Ghost?  You’re funning me, right Geezer?”
      “No Sandy, a ghost writer.  That’s somebody that…”
      I snorted and raised my eyes, “I know what they are.” 
      “I’d love to had some alone time with Bev, that was her name, she’s a book doctor as well, and…”
       “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.  I thought this was a writer’s conference, not a ride her’s conference.”  I gave Geezer the fish eye.  Giving the old boy a rough time is one my top three pleasures in life.  He’s past that part of his life, but doesn’t know it.  There wasn’t any guilt displayed, damn it.
       The Geezer grinned.  “Sandy, Mrs. Gator forbids that kind of thing.  But there were some cutie’s teaching.  That Jamie I was telling you about was a real looker.  She started out on the stage.  Singer, dancer, you name it.  Carolyn was a down home Mississippi gal.  Even the agents were neat.”
       “Geezer, like I always say, you’re just a HOB.”
       “I guess you have some grounds on the horny, are fully justified on the old, but you lose on the bastard part.  Hey, the only one of my instructors I saw out of class was Michael.  I took him out to see some alligators.  Him and one of the agents.”
       I panted hard and grinned one of my tongue hangin’ out leers.  “Was the agent female?”
       “Give me a break!  Sandy, this was a writer’s conference not a ride her’s conference.  Ride her’s conference?  Ride her’s conference!  Damn that’s good!  Sandy, sometimes you border on genius.  I have a place I can use that phrase.  You don’t mind a little thievery.  Let’s go.  I want to write that down before I forget it.”
      I laid still.  I wanted to talk — after all he’d been gone 5 days without my permission.
      “Come on girl.”
      I didn’t budge.
      “Please, Sandy.”
      My ‘up yours’ look is top rate and I gave it to him full force.
      “I’ll give you a whole hot dog,” the Geezer seduced.
      Damn!  It’s Hell to be young, suggestible, cheap, and easy!  Sometimes, I’m too brilliant for my own good.



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