Mourning Gloria

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Authors: Susan Wittig Albert
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if anything, Butch’s mother ought to be glad that his problem was caught before it got him into serious trouble. Still, she had to admit that Amanda had a point about the month-to-month, and in the interests of good relations with her roommate and their landlady, she had reluctantly given in.
    But last week, she had caught Butch peeping again, watching her through the hedge as she lay in her bikini on a beach towel on the grass. And tonight, she could hear him muttering to himself and smell that infernal cigarette. He wasn’t doing anything she could legitimately complain about, at least not at the moment. He was . . . well, he was just being Butch. He was there , damn it.
    Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. The wind stirred, lifting the leaves, and the night sounds no longer seemed quite so comfortable and friendly. Jessie picked up her empty wineglass and went back inside, thinking angrily that life was too short for this kind of crap—for guys like Butch, watching her every move. She still had some of the money from the sale of Gram’s place. It wasn’t much, but enough for a couple of months’ rent in advance, and there was her share of the rent she and Amanda had paid in advance here, which she was supposed to get back when she moved out. And this time, she would find a place by herself, even if it cost more money. She had outgrown Amanda, definitely. Time for a clean break there.
    But that would have to wait until tomorrow, or next week, or maybe even longer than that. Tonight, right this minute, Jessie was unsettlingly aware that Butch knew that Amanda was gone. She was all alone in the last house on a dead-end street, with a nutcase for a neighbor.
    She shivered. Then, one after another, she went to each window, checked the lock, and drew the blind.

Chapter Four
    Alcoholic beverages are a favorite means of altering moods. Take gin, for example. The word is an English abbreviation of genever , the Dutch word for juniper, for the predominant flavor of this popular alcoholic drink is derived from juniper berries ( Junipers communis ). In Holland in the 1580s, British troops fighting in the Dutch War of Independence found a juniper-flavored spirit. They drank as much as they could to give themselves what they appreciatively called “Dutch courage.” Soon, gin was being consumed everywhere, at any time. For textile mill workers in northern France, for instance, a slug of gin in coffee (a “ bistouille ”) was a popular breakfast drink.
     
    In addition to the predominant juniper, gin may be flavored with citrus (lemon, lime, grapefruit, and bitter orange peel), as well as anise, angelica root and seed, orris root, licorice root, cinnamon, cubeb, savory, dragon eye, saffron, baobab, frankincense, coriander, nutmeg, and cassia bark.
    China Bayles
“Mood-Altering Plants”
Pecan Springs Enterprise

    McQuaid and the kids and I live twelve miles west of town, just off Limekiln Road. If you make the drive in daylight, there’s plenty of entertaining scenery: hillsides pocked with clumps of yellow-blooming prickly pear cactus and white prickly poppy; rocky ridges clad with dark green juniper and lacy mesquite; high limestone bluffs; clear, shallow creeks. White-tailed deer graze with cattle; roadrunners dart after lizards among the rocks; buzzards perch on the tops of trees and utility poles, waiting for the next roadkill.
    At night, though, unless there’s a bright moon, you can’t see a thing beyond the headlights of your vehicle. Along some stretches, rocky embankments fall steeply away into the blackness; along others, the trees close in like shadowy rows of sentinels. The road dips down, rises up, and twists and turns unexpectedly, like a snake slithering through a rock-strewn meadow. It’s treacherous when there’s ice on the road, and the low-water crossings can be deadly during rainstorms. ( Turn around, don’t drown means just what it says.) In any season, the best way to stay out of trouble is to

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