Of Mice and Death and Bikes and Dykes

• Texas in Springtime, where baby field mice get restless in the nest and soon start to skittle around looking for food and shelter. They seemed to like the homes of my pals Elaine and Ruben this season. Both own big, useless dogs.
They each asked with bold sincerity if they could borrow my cat James to come to their houses and do a little freelance work as a mouser.
Horrors! As if I'd loan out my babyboy to go and kill possibly rabid vermin.
The kitty kisses me on the lips! Do I strike anyone as someone who would welcome a little severed baby mousefoot on my lip? For God's sake! Dog people just don't get it.
• The local lesbian community is crackling with shock over the slaying of Becky Odom. Camps are forming. Battle lines are being drawn. My own sister Jan and I may be of different minds about the events that preceded the shooting.
The news media has so far been respectful and non-lurid. San Antonio is a tourist town. No ugly murders on the front page, above the fold. Page Three Metro is what the story got, and I think that was reasonable placement.
• I think my tall girl ego helped select my new bike. A 26 incher is a fine ride, but getting on and off is a little daunting, especially having to clear the tandem baskets in the back. I suspect inner knee bruises will become part of my permanent physiology. That's cool though, my thighs are getting so hard I am thinking come pecan season I'll be able to crack them without using a nutcracker. Biking is very good in the ass and leg departments.
• Tonight is the monthly mixer for professional dykes in town. A friend wanted me to be her wingman, but now that I am single again I may just need my own wingman.
So, I invited my single sister, the world's most perfect lesbian chickbait. We are totally opposite types, so I am thinking she can bird-dog for me and vice versa.
I hate mixers. They make me sweat and I get uneasy in large queer herds.
This mixer will be abuzz with gossip about the murder. My curiosity has trumped the sweat and herd mentality reservations.
I am not looking for anyone new. I am also not not looking.
I don't know what to wear. I don't want to wear business attire because I don't want to send a stuffy message. I don't want to be too casual either, because when people hear "self-employed" they often think "penniless bum."
I think this situation calls for faded jeans, a real expensive white shirt and some soft black leather clog/mules.
Yeah, that's it. I'm all set.