ANOTHER great thing that happened in Mooreland was that Beth and I went out to visit her mother, Judy, who was one of the kind people responsible for keeping me fed as a child. Judy was having a fiesta party that involved ‘Mexican’ food and ‘margaritas.’ They were (I heard) the strongest margaritas this side of Tijuana, and you know which part of Tijuana I’m talking about. But I shall say no more about this delightful party, because as Snoop said, what happens a mile outside Mooreland, in the dead of the countryside, stays there.
Judy had a present for me! It turns out she took photographs of my second birthday party (I didn’t even know I’d ever HAD a birthday party) and she had found them. Oh, what a joy it was for me to remember – vaguely – how much fun we had! Bethy’s parents were always very good to me, as you shall see.
Judy had this picture of me, at eight months old:
Look how much I’ve grown by my birthday party!:
I call this one Meta-Zip, as I am playing with a Zippy monkey who is WEARING a Zippy sweatshirt, whilst also holding a Zippy hand-puppet. It’s a little creepy, honestly.
There are many stories about me and my bicycle. I could write a book.
This is me enjoying my bedroom. Ha ha!!! My bedroom was never that clean! This is Bethy’s room. Also hilarious: that picture Beth has called ‘Zippy Goes To School.’ I missed so much school I barely passed every grade. School was for other monkeys.
One thing that happened when I was little was that Beth tricked me into sticking persimmon flowers up my nose. I accidentally inhaled and they went all the way up into my brain. I knew my mom would NOT like me to have inserted the flowers, as one of her only rules of LIFE ITSELF was not to put things up one’s nose. Which I had done. So I tried to vacuum them out. A terrible failure. At any rate, here is the vacuum that would years later leave dirt and cat hair all over my face, while leaving the flowers exactly where they were. Beth never did ANYTHING wrong as a child, so I am very fond of this story.
One of my best gifts was this bugle. It came from someone named John. I’ve never heard of him before. At any rate, in this photograph I am giving it my best toot and really getting the hang of it. HA HA! Like I could play an instrument! At that age I was still flinging poo.
Judy had a letter from ‘John’ that indicates what really happened. Sad.
Anyway, thank you, Judy! Arriba!