Of Soylent Green And Love Blankets
I was pumping gas into my car yesterday when I heard a woman's voice very close to me. I looked around and there was nobody but the dusty wind. Then I looked up and saw the TV screen atop the gas pump, playing an infinite loop of advertising. I felt like I was in the movie Soylent Green, and Big Sister was repeating the litany of what I should believe and what I should buy. Her voice, a little out of sync, echoed simultaneously from the tops of every gas pump.
Many men in Arizona shave their heads. Is this a new trend?
Men have a distinctive uniform here. Casual: Long baggy shorts, t-shirt and flip flops. Dressy: Large Tommy Bahama or Hawaiian shirts worn untucked over slacks... and flip flops.
Women dress in corporate mall wear. While I sneer at that, I'm wearing the jeans I bought at Monoprix in Paris, and the top I bought at Target in Carefree. Oh... and the flip flops I bought at Target as well. Arizona women - feel free to flip me a bird right now.
Rubio's is still my favorite Mexican food chain (or possibly the only food chain I would ever set foot in), with the freshest made-to-order mahi-mahi tacos and chipotle salsa. I went there after the car wash yesterday and the woman behind the counter was so incredibly, genuinely, direct-eye-contact-big-smile friendly, that I became shy and looked down at my wallet as she beamed at me. I lingered after eating, thinking I might ask her where exactly in her heart and mind all of that love comes from. But she was very busy pouring it, like fresh salsa verde, all over the next customer in line.
I had my second experience meeting a virtual blog friend a few days ago, Rich from The Daily Husband and Mister Richard's Bloggerhood. I enjoyed it very, very much. The first time I did this was with The Wishful Writer, who I don't have to talk to or read about, in order to know she's still my friend. Rich and his lovely wife met me at a Starbucks, where he said he had 501 questions for me. We only covered about 42, but that just means I get to see them again so we can cover some more. They graciously invited me back to their home and fed me scrumptious Chinese food and we sat outside in the unseasonably cool air and talked about politics and blogging, and why we both kind of feel like it's been a useful release of pent-up rage for us, but perhaps not something to do long-term. He quit his political blog; I haven't yet. I must have some lingering rage to express...
I love my family, even though we are all so different.
One of my friends from waaaay back in the early '70's drove all the way over to my brother's house to see me. She said, "This was a huge stretch for me. I rarely leave my house." I was honored she would overcome her fears just to see me. Then I told her that I am just as afraid to leave my home as she is. We're all afraid at a certain level. We just express it in different ways. The world would be so much better if we believed more in the power of grace in our lives, than in the false power of darkness and doom.
I would like to invent a magic cloth that I could drape over people's heads and shoulders, snuggle them into it. And the cloth would soften their brittleness, calm their fears and most of all, allow them to forgive themselves. I would buy one for myself, after I watched the people I love begin to love themselves as much as I love them.
I miss Paris like a new lover. It's that bittersweet feeling - a painful tug in my heart followed by an excited thrill when I imagine the next time we meet. With my eyes closed, I conjure up memories so I can believe that she's still in my life.
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