Drabble

My sister knows I've been wanting to force myself to write more often. (Well, to write. Period. I don't really consider blogging writing.) She had a link to this other blog where someone is having people submit a 100 word (exactly) little story. So, I did it. It is fun having a task. Here is that blog if it floats your boat: http://wendyswore.blogspot.com/
Here is my 100 word little drabble entitled "Sad Goodbye". 
I breathe deeply, bite my bottom lip, and gather all my courage for my goodbye speech.
“I’m sorry, but we’re no longer working out.” I give her a quick pat, showing my regret. “Eleven years is a long time. Most of it was really good, but lately you’ve just let me down. I haven’t been able to depend on you ever since that day on the interstate.” “You will always be my first; I will never forget you.” I hand the key to my beat up 1999 Ford Escort over to the thrilled teenager buying her for just 1,300 dollars. 

Dream Interpretations

Wanted: free dream interpreter. Every morning I wake up tired, even after eight hours of sleep. Reason: I dream all night long. Last night I was trying to protect a house full of people from wild animals that lurked outside. The exterior doors of this concrete house in the desert actually had pet entries and no way to lock.  Each interior room lacked a door as well. It was 3:15 a.m. in my dream; I awoke and went to the window. Looking out there were mountain lions and a large black bear with her bear cub. Someone else was trying to help me keep the door shut, but the cub crawled through the doggy door, and we ran to hide in the closet but everyone else was in sleeping bags on the floor with no way to protect them from the coming bear. That was the end of that dream.

That was just one of my dreams last night. It would be so much more interesting if someone would provide me with my interpretation!

Self-Fulfilling Stereotypes

I do honestly hate the term "white trash". It is just ugly. Here comes the 'but'. But, today I was sitting (for a very long time actually) in the waiting room of a local doctor's office. Actually, it is more like a health clinic that takes anyone, and lucky for me, I am anyone- the type of anyone who is too poor to afford "real" insurance and relies on more inexpensive forms of health care. That is an entirely differently post- the woes of state medical programs and the way you are treated if you do not have "real" insurance. 
Back to the waiting room. One hour is an awfully long time to be stuck in a waiting room with no reading material. I brought my alumni magazine with me but left it in the car (and heaven forbid I go to retrieve it, they call my name, and I miss my turn). So, I made lists on the back of a flyer, and did what I do best- watch people. 
If you are poor, as I believe we currently are, there is no just cause to act/look/behave like it. Does being poor prevent you from brushing your teeth? Does being poor prevent you from spending a minute combing your hair or applying deodorant? Does being poor cause you to crave having tattoos placed at the very edge of your butt crack so when you wear those cutoff jean shorts and skanky short tank top the rest of us get to view your ex husband's lovely face? Does being poor automatically make you have five children who don't wear shoes and  behave like monkeys in public? Does being poor mean you have to smell like cigarettes and invade the invisible personal waiting room space? There are other chairs a little further away from mine.
Does this make me prejudiced? Prejudiced against what, though? People who have no self respect? Well, then I guess I am. 

Kindergarten Flashforward

3 1/2 hours with twenty-six kindergartners and a vivid imagination lends itself to inventing a very fascinating future for each of the little munchkins. Take Jeffery, for instance. His nickname is "Kissy Boy"; he thinks he is quite the ladies' man. My own daughter has been given permission to plant a left hook on his nose if he ever tries to plant a kiss on her. Scoot about 14 years into the future and I can see good 'ol Jeffery spewing out the most lame pick up lines on poor, unsuspecting co-eds.
Then there is Dillon. Even at age six he holds the door open for the teacher, tells the other boys to quit chasing the girls, and shares his crayons with anyone at the table. Dillon, the future pediatrician who will never quite realize just how adorable he really is.
Of course, every class has a Shelby. I actually grew up next to Shelby's mom and always thought she was kind of mean. Is it inherited? Will Shelby's kids purposely give their fellow classmates the stink eye when they reach for a swing they were just about to take for themselves?
Elijah- well his mom already tells him which girls are marriage material for when he's older. My daughter is at the top of her list, so she's told me. Twenty years from now he'll probably be quite the cutie, but his mom is going to by way too involved in his dating life.
Then you can find the resident varsity athlete, class president, captain of the debate team,  found in sweet, tall, blonde Jocelyn with a genuinely nice smile for everyone. 
I almost forgot about poor, crazy little Matthew. He freaks out when the toilet flushes, the fire alarm sounds, or when glue gets on his hand. He is going to make some psychiatrist very, very rich some day. 
Rayn, is, by any account, too adorable and she knows it. Today she asked if I make my daughter call me 'mom' because she calls her mom Teresa. She's going to have her own business and be the one calling all the shots in her life. 
No way could I be a kindergarten teacher, but this afternoon was a pretty good time. Gotta love those crazy little kids!

Super Sniffer

As superhero talents go, mine would be my highly evolved sense of smell. A blessing and a curse. To demonstrate- something totally freaky just happened. The entire house is asleep but me. Nothing scented has been used at all today. No candles, no cleaning products, and definitely no men's cologne. Here is the freaky part. All I can smell in my bedroom, all of a sudden, is a very distinct men's fragrance. First thought- intruder mistaking my house for the location of his first jr. high dance. Second thought- ghost of fiance past. Third thought-I need to go to sleep when everyone else does. As for the cologne, it was gone almost as soon as it came, but I'm still a bit creeped out!

Who Am I Kidding?

Isn't there a John Travolta movie where he plays a good guy who takes the face of bad guy, a.k.a. Nicolas Cage? Most days I'm Travolta using my own face, some days I'm Travolta pretending to be Nicolas Cage, but other days I'm actually the Nicolas Cage character.  Don't we all to some degree have a Travolta and a Cage inside us? An angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other? At least some people perceive us however they want and don't quite get it right. At work I think I am perceived as a bit of a  Pollyanna, but I haven't decided if that is a bad thing. All day a song played in my head, and I don't even know if it is a song or I am just creating lyrics to actual Huey Lewis and the News music. Is it really Hip to be Square?

Tire Store Lobby

Yesterday I couldn't wait any longer to replace the brakes on our car, and because I had a 21 month old with me, I really couldn't read my book or walk somewhere (it was cold outside). So, I sat in a hard plastic chair for about 2 hours, keeping the baby occupied and watching a variety of customers walk in and out while getting a tire fixed or an oil change. I have spent many hours (and many dollars) in this lobby (I have very bad luck with tires and apparently am very hard on my brakes).

The place it truly gross. The walls are filthy- caked with oil and grease and covered with outdated posters for local events, companies that sell tire related products, and old plaques from when the store used to sponsor kids' soccer teams. A Sparklets water dispenser in the corner has most likely never been cleaned in between putting on the next bottle. A box of donuts from the shop around the corner contains the few remaining at 12:30- sure to have been fondled by a variety of non-hand washed customers and workers. You can literally see a layer of filth on the floor (not one you can drop a Cheerio on and claim the 10 second rule), and there is a scary candy dispenser that surely contains six year old candy beans.

Watching customers was almost as interesting as cataloging the disease ridden surfaces. For a while, two chairs down occupied a 30-something year old guy who truly thinks he hasn't left his 20's. His shoes were trendy, his sunglasses too expensive, his hair definitely not cut at the local chop shop for 11 bucks. He screamed single and spent his entire wait scrolling down his address list on his phone.

After he was rescued from the lobby, grizzled 40 something lady took his place. She wore gray sweats, thrift store tennis shoes, and hadn't comb her dyed blond hair that day. She reeked of cigarettes and spoke a few smoker octaves lower. At least she smiled.

Many others came and went while I sat there, but notwithstanding the surroundings, I enjoyed myself reading "Brown Bear, Brown Bear", making fish faces, and plying the toddler with Apple Jacks. What a way to spend nap time!