Calamity Jayne Rides Again by Kathleen Bacus Page A

myself, she
     was actually in awe of her older sister's zest for life and thirst for adventure. Yeah. And maybe I'm scheduled to be on the
     next season of "The Apprentice."
    My younger sister isn't the outdoorsy girl I am and that's a fact. She prefers more... cerebral pursuits. While she enjoyed
     photographing our horse family and eventually did learn to ride, she never developed the passion for the equine species that
     I did. And although she tolerated my two hairy golden labs, Butch and Sundance, she never got down on all fours and made growling
     sounds at them like I often do. Or dressed up in a Halloween mask and sneaked up on them. Or bundled them into the car in
     the dead of winter and drove to the capital city and sneaked them into the warm botanical center. (Uh-oh. Just kidding there.
     I didn't do that. Of course, I wouldn't do that. That would be against the rules.)
    Perhaps I was being unfair to Taylor. Maybe her tastes ran more to scaly creatures than four-legged, furry, huggable critters.
     Or owners of scaly creatures maybe. Hmm.
    Over the years I've often wished for a closer relationship with my sister, but finding common ground between us is like trying
     to find a back for your pierced earring when you're late for church. (BTW, I've ended up sticking pencil erasers on in a pinch,
     so keep that one in mind, ladies!) Or trying to locate which level you parked your car on after Christmas shopping at four
     malls in the same day.
    I hate the distance between us, the loving yet somewhat snippy, superficial nature of our relationship, but have never found
     a way to breach the great divide. I suspect lots of folks think I'm envious of my smart, talented, gorgeous baby sister, but
     honestly, guys, those qualities were never that important to me. Oh, don't get me wrong: There were times I wanted to grab
     a pair of scissors and make a midnight visit to my sister and shear her billiard-ball bald, cursing the hair gods who'd blessed
     her with silky, shiny, healthy, rich brown hair while they'd gifted me with the Bozo look without Bozo's color. It was only
     the last several months, with Taylor beginning to show an interest in a certain ranger, that I had begun to cast a more critical
     eye on our differences, and to feel that I, too often and in too many ways, came up short. The old Tressa would never have
     acknowledged she gave a flip. The new, and hopefully improved, Tressa was more in touch with her feelings. And guess what?
     It bit the big one! For once I wanted to be the smarter, sexier sister. I wanted to have the Pantene hair, the dark, seductive
     eyes, and the full, pouty lips. Natural, not collagen-enhanced. I wanted to be the one noticed first when we walked into a
     room together, and not because I was trailing toilet paper from my heel. I wanted to have someone, anyone, ask my advice for a change. And then actually consider it. I wanted what every normal, healthy, twenty-three-year-old girl wants—hooters
     you don't need a magnifying glass to find! (Whew, let me catch my breath here a second. Rabid envy run amok takes a lot out
     of you!)
    I traversed the final distance to the Emporium, hurrying past Lucy's Trinkets with my head down, one hand hiding my profile.
     I didn't feel like hearing episode two from "Calamity Jayne Does the State Fair" right now. I hurried to the front door, eager
     to get in out of the heat in the air-conditioned comfort of Barlow's Emporium.
    On a hot, humid evening like this the place would be packed with folks resting their weary feet and enjoying a respite from
     the steam.
    I opened the door and walked smack dab into a wall of hot, stifling air and an empty Emporium. Empty, that is, except for
     Taylor, who stood fanning herself with a newspaper, her hair pinned to the top of her head. How she still managed to look
     Cover Girl-ready is anybody's guess. I'd only been in the place forty-five seconds and already I could feel my gelled-back
     hair breaking free of