An Odd Lot

The day was nice enough. It was sunny. The sunlight only served to invigorate us after days of El Nino had sucked our senses dry. We had chores to catch up on while our senses were enlivened by the warmth. In the middle of our busyness, BOOM! and everything went dark. (Yes, it was broad daylight, but my house eats light.) My firebug lit the candles, the other girls got out the board games. An odd thing these days, laughter. The girls sat around the candles and laughed and played together. The adults in the neighborhood all began to peek out.  "Lose power?" "Sure did. Did you hear the boom?" "Yeah. I think it came from the high school side of things."

Neighbors I've never seen came out of hiding. With no power there were no meals to prepare, no laundry to be done, no dishwashers to run. There were no imaginary internet friends to interact with. 

We all, rather stupidly, stepped into the sunlight. There was never so much block walking at once. One neighbor has a grandbaby I knew about but had never seen--before that day. We smiled at each other and waved. And we gawked while the power company sent their crews racing to restore us to normalcy. 

Truly, the explosion had come from the high school side as I thought, and the crew member who discovered the issue cheered. As did we all as we crept back into our caves. 

For a few strange moments, we all felt life.  It was if we, like Dr. Manet, had been "recalled to life." But, El Nino sent us more deluge and we all went back into our caves where the darkness sucked us dry again. 

What an odd lot we are.

IA:Initiate by John Darryl Winston

I have not been so struck by a book in a long time. IA: Initiate is set in the Exclave, the bad part of town. All the characters are there--the nuclear families, the broken families, the shop owners, the bullies, and the bullied. But Naz struck me.

I should let you know, in case you didn't, that I used to spend hours on Saturdays while I was in college in Glen Park which is a neighborhood in Gary, Indiana. It wasn't the worst neighborhood; it wasn't the best.  The thing I know is that I know Naz and Meri. I met them there in Glen Park. I loved them with my whole heart. Granted, Meri was only 3 and her name was Athena. But I can only imagine the spunk she had at 3 translated into "firecracker" by age 9. 

But Naz. Naz is so many of those kids. They were full of hopes and dreams and wishes and desires. The circumstances of their lives hadn't squashed all that joy out of them yet.  I don't know if they knew their lives were hard or not.  I can't say because they were happy.  

They had huge televisions in their living rooms but their coats were threadbare. They grabbed what they could to feed themselves and their siblings--often Twinkies or chips. Their mamas had been squashed and squished and their dreams were gone; but the kids' dreams lived and bubbled inside them. Their mamas hardly had a reason to get out of bed some days; but the kids could still dream.

As I read Initiate, I was back in Glen Park. I saw those kids again. And I wondered what ever happened to them. Did any of them have dreams survive? Did they become the hero that was inside their minds? Did any of them succumb to the same fate that squished their mamas? 

I'll likely never know. Where is Athena now? Did she maintain her spunk? Did she grow up and become a teacher? A mother? She had so much life in that little body. And my boys? What became of them? Did they excel in school? Did they get to college? 

When an author writes kids you know or knew once upon a time, and when he grabs your soul because you knew those kids, you know he's done a good job. 

WHY??

I have games on my phone. I have Kindle on my phone. While I'm playing games on my phone, no one has anything to say to me. As soon as I open my Kindle app, everyone needs me. Why do they hate me?

Confessions of a (formerly) fat girl

So, I keep buying smaller and smaller sizes. I am currently sitting here in a size 10 pair of jeans and I'm thinking they are a little loose. And I'm thinking that I don't think I look fat sitting here. But then I see myself in a mirror and I still see myself 30 pounds ago. I can still see the lumpy bumpy mess that I was.  Rod tells me he keeps doing a double-take because he has to figure out who I am. So, I'm obviously looking good, so to speak. But, not to me. Not really.

I guess it takes a while to get past that fat girl block. When will I see the me in the mirror that others see?

"You are looking really good." (Thanks, I guess. I'm wearing Spanx.)
"You are wasting away." (Well, I still have plenty of fat to lose, you know?)

Do we ever see ourselves how we are after weight loss? Or do we always see ourselves how we were?  I guess these remain to be answered. For myself at least.

BTW, I am in my goal size(s) but I still have 15-20 pounds left to lose.