Well if it’s good enough for millionares that own islands its good enough for me. I laid out on my futon in the living room. (Hey it’s Arizona unless it is midnight it’s too hot to sit out on a hammock. The pages of the book would spontaneously combust.) Took my feet up off the floor and read a book.
All year I have been talking about the great American roadtrip that I have never gotten to take. The El
That son of a gun hit the fly swatter dead on. It flew to the ground and the fury of every bug that scared me came out. Pwhap! Pwhap some more and just in case Pwhap. I think I was roaring because my friend across the street asked if everything was o.k.
the stealing for the most part stopped. Then one of them tried stealing my ipod. It was one of those moments in life where I saw the multiple choice options. I could
A. Slap it out of his hand and claim temporary insanity
B. Break out into open prayer (that’s a chapter in my book)
C. Send him to my tall friend
D. Warn him
My mind is saying ouch in three different languages. The arms go in the air like if I raise them higher, I’ll weigh less. At that moment one of the kids looks up, sees the pain in my face and the strappy sandal in the air and screams to the other kids, “She got out the chankla” That is spanglish for she is going to whoop us old school style.
Mrs. B is walking around the room as she teaches and reads. The kids are engaged and high level conversations are taking place. Imaginary t.v. cameras are capturing the moments so audience across the United States can say “Wow I wish I was in that classroom!” Then it happens.
September was the best month. Actually August and October were too. That was when I officially felt 40. All of
Now we know from prior writings that my fat talks to me. Well it was not pleased with the sudden decrease in consumption of (of all things) bacon and fried chicken. Here I am trying to be more sophisticated and the country (as my dad likes to say, because he didn’t raise me ghetto) comes out. On Sundays people would talk about the great things happening in their lives. The wannabe holy Trish could only cry about the loss of a longtime love in her life…bacon.
Mile 2.5. The last song on the ipod was halfway throughand the old couple tried passing me. What? Oh no they didn’t I increased my pace. The legs were torn. Memories of long strides came to them and they wanted to run like in the old days. Then that stupid fat, like a bad boyfriend trying to stick around tried to ruin their mojo.
Today-there was a dovetail with my technology. My youtube, blog and social networking. Like the cords of a rope my
