Time Passing

Haven't blogged in a while. Didn't really want to, but a lot has happened. A friend of mine, Kevin, killed himself on Halloween. I have never lost anyone close before, and I hope I go before anyone else, cause I don't think I could handle it again. Kevin was a great guy. He had an amazing smile and a laugh that was...infectious. He was a customer at the cafe, I even started going to his church when he invited me. We laughed, he'd tell me crazy stories. He was a truely wonderful man. He'd sit in the cafe reading his bible and karate magazines and he'd just burst into laughter. Not quiet chuckles, loud, full out laughing, his face going red, his eyes watering. People would glance at him like he was crazy, but I would laugh too as I put away dishes and cleand the grills. He was amazing.
Now he's gone.

Losing Dogs and Revenge Against Demon Trucker

Started out the same as usual. Got up around noon, waiting on my sisters to get out of bed. Carrie's mother-in-law stopped by to drop off Carrie's niece Phoebe. They woke my sisters up. Then it took us three hours to finally get everyone out of the house. Carrie, Erin, Phoebe, our two dogs, and I piled into my little car. Wal-mart, fashion bug, stopped at dad's, stopped at Erin's, stopped back at Carrie's....
Then our day finally began at 5pm...go figure. That's how it goes in this family. We picked up a pack of flashlights because it was starting to get dark, and we all still had our hearts set on hiking. We walked for miles and miles through the creepy woods, the puppies running around free and ecstatic. Sometimes the trail was very narrow, somtimes we had to cross little gaps and climb over tree limbs. There's a spot in the trail where we have to cross the small creek in the shallow area to get to the other half of the trail. We were having a blast, and someone was playing Elvis loudly. "Your the devil in disguise."
Carrie and I had taken the dogs on this trail last weekend. And just like last weekend, a thought, an image flashed through my mind that I ignored. I had a bad feeling in my gut that we would lose one of the dogs. That she'd run off into the trees and we'd never see her again. After all, Kenni was only five months old and she disappeared from our yard for two weeks. Who knew what would happen should one of them become lost in the woods and ignore our calls?
But that was silly. Why whould they just wander off? They are very well behaved. When we call them to us, they come running. So, this thought of mine was absurd.
There was an area of the trail where you could see houses and the people's backyards. That was when I noticed Billy, Carrie's dog, wasn't with us.
"Guys, where's Billy?" I asked.
"Billy!" we all start calling out for her. Usually when they wander off into the woods, we just call for them and they come running back. Sometimes it takes them a few minutes. My dog Kenni was next to us, but Billy was nowhere.
"Billy, come on, let's go!"
Still no sounds. No jinggling of her collar, no rustling of the leaves. The four of us were shouting for her, staring off into the trees, still not dark out, but the night was only about thrity minutes away. Kenni stood at our feet, grinning from ear-to-ear, her tongue hanging out. She wasn't worried at all as she also swept her eyes around, searching the trees and bushes.
"Oh, my God, guys, where's Billy?"
After shouting and getting no results, we split up. This is just not like her. She always comes when we call her. Carrie and Phoebe went ahead on the path, Erin and I retraced our steps.
"Billy! Billy Bob, come on girl, let's go!"
Not a sound other than the music coming from a local's Saturday night.
"Billy Bob!"
We met up with Carrie and Pheebs, both parties unsuccessful in our searches.
"What if she wandered into a yard where there is a dog. She wouldn't listen to us if she found a dog."
Carrie and Phoebe took the trail toward the houses, planning to roam the neighborhood. Erin, Kenni, and I continued on the trail. I tied my scarf onto Kenni's collar, just to be on the safe side. I did not need her pulling a disappearing act as well, especially with the trail so close to homes and people. That's when they have trouble listening, when others are about.
"Kenni, where's Billy?" I asked her. "Find Billy, Kenni. Go find Billy."
She tugged Erin and I along the path, going so fast we were running. We ran through the trees, on narrow, overgrown paths, up hills, twisting further and further. My heart was racing and my asthma was kicking in. The sky was growing darker and I wanted to cry. Did we lose Billy forever? Was it my fault for thinking one of the dogs would get lost?
The trail we were on was suddenly not a trail anymore. It just disappeared and we were in the woods. Erin and I decided to turn around. Trees all look alike if you have no footpath to follow. We almost made a wrong turn in our trek back, but I suddenlly saw what I think was a tiny, rusted truck canopy. Suddenly we could hear Carrie and Phoebe.
"Guys stay where you are, we're coming to you," Carrie told us. We met up on the path. Billy was still MIA.
I was almost to the point of crying and Carrie was freaking out.
"I am not leaving here without my dog!"
"We'll stay all night if we must," I told her, waving my flashlight.
We decided to head toward the car, hoping maybe Billy was near the pond. Maybe she didn't follow us any further?
We were coming around a corner a few minutes later, shouting her name.
"Billy!" Erin shouted. Sure enough, there she was around the corner. She saw us and her tail went mental. Kenni ran to her like she was chasing the geese at the park we always take them. Billy ran to us, grinning and puffing, her rolly-polly body vibrating in her excitement to see us. I gave her a little swat on her back.
"Billy you don't do that! You don't go off on your own," I told her, as if she were a child. We were all kneeling down, hugging her and petting her. She must of thought it was her birthday or something. But I think she'd been as scared as we were. She was probably wandering around in the bushes, smelling wonderful smells of dead animals and bugs, when suddenly she looks up and realizes she can't see us or hear us. She's the biggest chicken scardy-cat I know, so she must have freaked when she realized we weren't nearby. We searched for a good fifteen to twenty minutes.
The hike back to the car, we kept her in our sights the whole way. I lead the way with the puppies wandering through the trees before me. Carrie, Erin, and Phoebe lagged behind. Every couple paces Carrie would holler at me, asking if I could still see both dogs. They pulled out their flashlights. It went from a slightly darkening sky to almost black in a few minutes. We were stumbling along, flashlights lighting our way. It had definately been an adventure. And with the dogs playing in the creek and pond, they both smelled like dead fish...Wonderful.
After a stop at Barnes & Noble for dinner, we headed home.
That's when we had our second big scare.
I was driving along somewhere between 65-70 miles/hour in a 70 zone. Minding my own business in my tiny little Nissan Sentra. Suddenly a huge, eighteen-wheeler gets over behind me, on my ass, nearly hitting my bumper. Carrie starts yelling at me to speed up. He probably didn't see us? Stupid truck.
Then, for the next ten minutes, I have him following on my bumper, turning his brights on, purposely trying to blind me. We are all freaking out cause we have this huge truck practically touching my bumper with his brights on and shinning in my face. I always turn my mirrors at odd angles at night, cause I have sensitive eyes and can't stand the lights reflecting, so his brights weren't hardly in my eyes at all. But still, he was doing this on purpose, this reckless driving, just to piss us off. What was his problem? Was he drunk? Then he starts weaving in and out of traffic, so I'm thinking this bastard very well could be. So I get over in the slower lane, cause I want to get behind this bastard so I can get his license, company, and truck number. My sister's husband is an over the road trucker, she goes with him, she knows the ropes with these companies. I want this ass fired. He could kill someone with this behavior.
So, I'm now going about fourty-five, but I still can't get behind him. He was suddenly going slow, too. He didn't want us to get any info from the back of his truck. Luckily there were three people in my car keeping eyes on him, so eventually we get behind him, then beside him, two cell phones out saving info from his truck. This bastard is going down. This sort of driving is absolutely unacceptable.
The second I get home, I pull out my laptop and google the truck company, find a number, and call.
The lady didn't seem to care.
"Hello?" She says.
Umm...
"Is this Short and Sassy Trucking Company?" I ask. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is it's real name.
"Yes," she told me. She can't even answer the phones right. You state your business name when you answer the phone so people know they have the correct number.
I tell her I have a complaint to make about a driver.
"Okay," she says. Then silence.
I have never had to call and complain about a Semi before, she should have been asking questions or something, walking me through this. She didn't say anything. I have always been shy when it comes to the phone. I hate talking on them. But I am so angry at this trucker...
"I have his License, his VIN number..."
"Okay," is all she says. I could have reached through the phone and strangled her. I don't know what info she needs to figure out who this asshole is. Tell me what numbers you need...
So I give her everything I have. I tell her eveverything he did.
"Okay." I want to choke her so she stops saying okay.
Silence.
Finally she says, "Is there a number where I can reach you if I need any more information?"
I give her Carrie's number. I get way too many unknown calls on my phone, I probably wouldn't anwer. I also give her Carrie's name, first and last. I really knew this woman couldn't care less when she didn't ask for the last name spelling. I can barely spell Carrie's last name, I know this woman can't. But she didn't ask, I wonder was she even getting any of this down.
Well, they are going to get sick of me calling. I plan to call again in the morning to see if anything was done. I will keep calling until I hear this jerk was fired. That's how pissed off I am about his driving. That's how bad his driving was. I'm not normally a war-path kind of person. Despite how I sound in my blogs, I am usually a quiet person, meek, much as I hate to admit it. I usually shrug things off rather than having to face any kind of conflict, rather than having to face people in a conflict. But I will pull out my backbone when someone has gone too far. This bastard who shouldn't even have a driver's license and definately no trucker's license has gone too far. He tailgated the wrong woman, let me tell you. What if there was a pregnant lady or a baby in the car he thought it was okay to tailgate? What if he'd hit me? I'm this asses worst nightmare, let me tell you... He's going to be unemployed if I have anything to say about it. If I have to, I will take his plate number to the police station. Something will be done about this.
And that's all I have to say about that!

New Baby, Old Car

The entire weekend of the 12th and the 13th I spent with my hand on my best friend's belly. Her daughter was kicking, ready to get out. Most of the pregnancy was spent with my poor friend on bedrest, Missy Lynn was impatient to arrive, but it was too early. Then, finally, it was safe for her to have her baby anytime. So, Sami being impatient to hold her daughter in her arms, decided she needed some raspberry leaf tea, which is rumored to help induce labor. We bought it, drank tons of the stuff as we wandered the mall all day. It must have worked, because just last weekend, her baby arrived. I spent all of that weekend in and out of the hospital, then in and out of the children's hospital where her daughter was in the NICU. I had her twelve year old son with me all weekend, and I got him off to school Monday morning. My sister took over after that because I work for a living and had to get back to it. I used an entire tank of gas in two days going from the children's hospital to Sami's home and back again numerous times. And let me tell you, that baby is the sweetest baby to ever grace the face of our earth. She has the perfect shaped nose, hair like her brother's, soft and light, and lots of it. She has such little toes, hands, her little ears. So sweet. I held her today after work as she slept on my chest. I didnt want to let her go, but had to eventually because I wanted to make it to my sister's house in one piece. I slept two hours last night, and I knew that any moment I was going to fall asleep on my feet. I had to say goodbye to my car last night. I spent tons of money on it, it was my second home. That car was made for me, his name was Sir Robin the Brave. Is it weird to cry over a car? I bawled, I felt like I was losing my best friend instead of having my car towed to a scrap yard. I think the tears started when my very tactful dad said,
"You don't have to clean it out, their just going to crush it."
Gee, thanks dad. Just the image I wanted burned in my brain. My very beautiful Taurus, my trusty friend who got me from Washington state to Missouri a few years back, that got me to and from work for years, that took me on all my shopping trips to the mall, especially in the dead of winter with no heater, etc....crushed into tiny bits of useless glass, metal, rubber, etc....scraps....
I could have fixed him if I'd had two thousand dollars...I don't. My life is over...
Moving on....
I've got nothing...

Anxious for Christmas?

We have our own language. My family. Seriously. Erin is sitting in the chair across the living room and everything she says she puts an L as the first letter. So, "We are having tortillas, cheese, and eggs" becomes "Le lar laving lortillas, lheese, land leggs." We are a weird bunch. My brother-in-law's sister is sitting on the couch next to me with a confused expression on her face while she watches Erin trying to figure this out. Of course, I completely understand Erin's words. We're family.
Yesterday I got up extremely early (9 a.m.) to go to Soulard's Farmer's Market with one of my three roommates. We got tomatoes and other things. Always fun. Then we went to the Japanese Festival at the St. Louis Botanical Gardens. We saw the Candyman and ate Red Bean Ice Cream and Green Tea Ice Cream. I bought a cool fan with a dragon on it. Loads of fun. We got in for free because one of our roommate's mom works somewhere something or other...idk.
Then last night I came over here to my sister Carrie's house. Kind of a sleepover. Carrie, Erin, Michelle, our niece Phoebe, and I. I bought a couple Papa John's pizzas and we ate pizza, played kareoke on the gamecube, then Carrie, Erin, and Phoebe used the Quiji board while Shell and I played Scrabble. Scrabble is an addicting game for someone like me who absolutely loves words.
Anyway, that is a typical Saturday night for me, just hanging out with family. You should have seen us, we was so loud and having a great time, we might as well have been drunk. On the drive home from picking up the pizzas we sang Christmas songs. We had loads of fun making our own lyrics to the 12 days of Christmas.
"On the first day of Christmas my poor husband gave to me, a dead rat in my Christmas tree..."
or "On the first day of Christmas my murdering mother gave to me, Michael Myers next to my Christmas tree..."
Merry Christmas from my family!

End of the Road

My Taurus died. I miss my car. My mom sent me 700 for a car. My mechanic found me one for 900...got it Friday. Went and got insurance. Went to get the state test...it's stuck in the parking lot, wont start. I seriously am broke and have no car. I'm sure my mechanic can fix it, but that's going to cost. I do not make enough money at my job, so I am really stressed out right now. I just want a decent car that isn't going to die. I'm not asking for anything expensive, new, sporty, whatever. I just need something that's going to work. I can't seem to get a break in life. It's a curse. My dad kills anything electrical, and, apparently, I have the same problem. In a single year I killed two ipods. Then I killed my Verizon Chocolate. Now my phone, less than a year old, is having issues charging. The other day I couldn't get my laptop to charge. The remote for my DVD player evaporated. The universal remote my dad gave me for it wont do the one thing I needed the remote to do! I can play or stop DVD's on the machine itself, I just can't go over to select a different option on the menu. The universal remote works except the arrow buttons...I have rotton luck. I'm so sick of all this stress. In the past three months I must have spent 1000 dollars on that Taurus just to keep it going. I've only had it for 3 years. I took over the payments on it. My brother got it brand new. he had it 6 years, then me for three. I still owe him 860 dollars for the thing! For the car that is now dead. A nine year old car...WTF? I am having trouble breathing, I don't know what to do.

Customers, Co-workers, Ghosts

Some guy in his thirties bought a magazine with the cast of Saved By the Bell on the cover. A reunion. I told him I loved that show.
"I didn't watch it," he said. "It was before my time." Then he walked away.
I had to laugh. Before his time? He is older than me and I grew up on that show. My sister Carrie is 30 and she watched it in her teens. Maybe he was just a terribly confused man.
I have been hooked on X Files lately. I'd never seen it before, but Carrie has the first two seasons and got me hooked. Who doesn't love aliens? Maybe some of my customers are from another planet? Maybe. Like this next guy:
I had another strange customer who came into cafe. The only thing he said before he turned and walked away was:
"You don't have anything as boring as coconut coke, do you?"
I shook my head. What the heck is coconut coke?
I usually have to use the restroom two or three times a shift. Last night I used it on my lunch break and was good the rest of the evening. An hour before we closed, I was going about my business of washing dishes, cleaning up, wrapping the bakecase, when my bladder started screaming at me. Not the usual, "Hey, I need to be relieved." No it was more a sharp pain when I moved that told me bladder infection. So I called on the PA asking Joe to call me at his convenience. Ten minutes later he answers. Five minutes later while I was in the middle of making a customer's drink, he shows up.
"The last hour is always the busiest. It's really hard to give breaks at this time."
Of course my thoughts jump at this. Joe is the kind of guy who is always right, knows everything, and probably could run the entire store on his own much better than anyone else without breaking a sweat. At least, that is the vibe he sends me. Like those popular kids in high shcool I never spoke to or they never spoke to me. Not unless they were using me as the butt of a joke to get the class to laugh. That's how I think of Joe. He's usually nice enough, but still the popular, smart class clown to my nerdy, bookwormness.
When he tells me this, I keep quite while I finish the order. I'm thinking, a break? Really? I have worked there nearly three years now, and maybe twice have gotten my fifteen minute breaks. Two of them a shift, but I never see them. So don't be bitching to me that you don't have five minutes to spare so I can run to the bathroom and piss. I handed the customer her drink and headed for the swinging doors, removing my apron as I went. I say over my shoulder,
"The last hour is the busiest time for me too, but my bladder doesn't care."
To my relief he chuckled as I walked away. Now, me five, six years ago in high shcool would have never been brave enough to voice something like this to any of the popular kids. But I have learned: with age comes backbone. I'm not old, but I am learning to stand up for myself like I have never really been able to do before. Not to people like him anyway. The ones who intimidate me. But no way was I going to allow him to stand there and tell me he doesn't have five minutes to spare so I could pee. I know I did not have five minutes to spare, but my bladder wasn't listening. I'm sure Joe was very busy on bookside, but I can't help but wonder if he realizes what that last hour in cafe is like? Pretty stressful.
If anyone wants to know what it is like serving food and drinks, I suggest reading Waiter Rant by Steve Dublanica. I found it while straightening books last night. I couldn't resist, I read the first five pages. I am going to buy it because I can already tell it is going to be good. Apparently I am not the only one who rants about customers. And this guy knows what he is talking about, our jobs are not as easy as they may appear. It's actually quite stressful. We have to pretend to smile and act all nice and pretend we don't mind when the customer gets snotty. No, go ahead and insult me and give me attitude! I love being treated like this. See, I'm smiling! Now let me turn my back so I can spit into your nonfat, sugar-free, decaf vanilla late. Smile, smile. (Kidding, I have never spit in anyone's drink before. That's disgusting. Believe it or not, I love my job.)
But I just figure, if I am grown-up enough to smile and pretend I like you, the least you can do is smile back and pretend you like me. Don't be rude, you're not better than me. I don't care how much money you make, you're not any more special than I am. (But truthfully, like he says in Waiter Rant, 80% of my customers I actually adore. Nice, normalish, people who I love to talk with when I have a minute. It's that other 20% that I'm worried about. They are nutcases. Assholes. Scum.)
Anyway, moving on.
One of my roomies brought over two mangas as she was leaving work. We both work at Barnes & Noble. She'd been reading them on her lunch break and figured I might like to read them. I asked what they were about and she told me one of them was about ghosts. Of course, I am thrilled to hear this. Ghosts are one of my favorite topics. She hates scary movies, but I thrive on them. The ghost ones anyway. She always rolls her eyes at my ghost fetish. I asked her if she liked ghosts, though I could tell she didn't. You know what she said?
"I'm not twelve."
Excuse me? I told her it had nothing to do with twelve-year-old ghost stories. I'm talking about real, haunt-your-house ghosts. I've seen numerous hauntings in my life. What is she talking about twelve? Ghosts are not children's business. They're real. I didn't say unicorns. I said ghosts. She's nice, helpful, always so sweet and we get along great, but this sounded like an insult. It really made me mad, but I didn't let her know it. I'd like to know why she believes earthbound spirits are for twelve-year-olds and her anime and manga collection are for a twenty-one-year old. Or her fascination with cupcakes. Can anyone out there explain this to me? Maybe she's never encountered a spirit before so she doesn't believe. But I just don't understand her reasoning that something that involves death can be for kids.
I once woke up in the dead of night and sat up in bed. I had no earthly idea why I was awake, but I was. Not sleepy awake, either, but like I just drank ten cups of coffee, fully alert awake. I did not have to use the bathroom, so I couldn't figure it out. I was living with my brother at the time in his two bedroom apartment, so I slept in the kid's room. My nephew, 2, slept in the small bed next to mine, and my 7-month-old niece was in her crib on the other side of the room. I glanced around, but they were both out. Then I turned my attention to the closet door which was on the opposite wall from where I slept. It was one of those, take-the-entire-wall, sliding doors kinda closet. Guess what happened next? Right before my eyes, the dang thing slid open of it's own volition. My cat chose that moment to dart out of the room like satan was on his tail. My heart jumped into my throat and my arms became goosebumpy. Quickly, I dove under my blanket, that childhood belief that the cotton and material would protect me from any monster came back to me.
I was so scared I thought about calling to my brother and his wife. They'd hear me through the baby moniter. Then I remembered they sleep like the dead. Their alarm clock usually woke me up and would beep for about a half hour before they ever got up. I had this deep urge to wake my two-year-old nephew up and have him crawl into bed with me. No joke, I was that terrified. And, it being summer, the apartment hot with no air conditioner, I couln't breathe beneath my covers. But I didn't wake him, and soon was asleep again.
I have no doubt that apartment is haunted. There were always strange noises, like someone walking around when nobody was there. We once found a handprint on the bedroom wall that was at such an odd angle, it didn't make sense that any of us would have rested our hand there for balance or any other reason. Plus, we measured it agains all our palms. It didn't have a match.

Books and Movies

I am reading so many books right now. Getting it Through My Thick Skull by Mary Jo Buttafuoco. I checked it out from work a few days ago, and will finish it tonight before I go to sleep. It is an amazing true story. Even if you do not usually read biographies or true stories, you should read this one. I never read non-fiction. But I can't put this one down.
Also, I'm nearly done reading Hunger by Michael Grant. It is the second book in the Gone seris.
I cannot put this one down, either. What these kids have to do, what they go through, it is insane. He really is a wonderful author. I hope it will be a movie someday, it is that good.
The Tommyknockers by Stephen King. Started it, haven't gotten far yet, but I will. So far it's interesting. I finished his Bag of Bones reccently, and am now in the process of reading every book he has ever written. It is going to take some time.
Did you know that Craig Ferguson wrote a few books? He did! I was simply strolling through Barnes & Noble, on my way to clock out and go home after a long day of making coffee in the cafe, and wouldn't you know it? There it was on an endcap, right in my face. I'm broke, but I bought it anyway. Who needs gas for their cars to get to work when you have a book by Craig Feguson?? Lol. I was thrilled! I was a fan of his when he was on The Drew Carry Show. Then fell in love with him one night when I was at the kitchen table putting together a puzzle and I heard a sexy accent on the television. The voice was familiar. No one was watching TV, it was just left on from earlier in the day. I couldn't resist that voice. I got up and saw him, right there on The Late Late Show With Craig Ferguson. I didn't know he had this show!! Just because he is many, many years my senior does not mean I am blind to his attractiveness. He's also hilarious. So far, the book is good. Between the Bridge and the River. Check it out.
In the process of moving into my new apartment, I have managed to misplace my hardcover copy of Inkheart by Cornelia Funke. I have the bookcover, but just not the book. With my most treasured hardcover books, I usually take off the paper covers and put on a cloth book when I am reading it, so the paper cover doesn't get crinkled or destroyed. The cloth cover then protects the book's actual cover. Call me anal, I just love my books and cannot really afford to replace them should they find themselves covered in milk or mustard. Anyway, I'm very upset about it's absence. I had been reading it, apparently, or else I would not have the cover. Or, most likely, I had given it to my sister to read to her husband on their eighteen-wheeler, and it is burried there still. Now that she has been staying home and going to school, she cannot read it to him. Hopefully she finds it on the truck and my worries will be all for nothing. I can't read Inkspell or Inkdeath until I have read the fisrt one again. So the second and third books are at home, on my shelf, collecting dust and waiting for me to open them. It's depressing. The movie was awesome. Brendan Fraser: you just have to love him. He hasn't been in a movie that I don't like.
I didn't know The 10th Kingdom was a book! My sister found it at a yard sale or something and got it for me. She knew I'd be thrilled. The movie is one of my favorites, and it's also a book!
Speaking of movies, I saw Harry Potter six when it was released at midnight. No doubt, it was the best one they've made. Left a lot out from the book, but it was the best movie so far. It was hilarious. Loved it. Going to see it again on Sunday with my friend Sami. My sister Erin hated it, but then she just doesn't see things the way I do. She just didn't like how it ended. I'm not going to give anything away. I personally thought the ending was beautiful. Carrie was hoping for more action, more wizarding in the muggle world. She was decieved by the previews. My friend Stephanie who went to the midnight release of Twilight with me agrees this was the best Harry Potter film thus far. Go see it!

I finally got an apartmen. I can't wait to move in, yet I don't wish to move. Carrie and I have so much fun living together. It's sad. With her working and starting school, me working and getting ready to start school, we are never going to see each other. She's one of my favorite sisters. But, at least I have a home now. I have to share a room with my friend, but I will have a place to live. That's what is important.
I'm at Carrie's place right now. We are going to go play Disney Party on the game cube. I have to be up early in the morning. I really don't want to go to work tomorrow, but I must.
I am trying to figure out what is so cool about Facebook, but I still can't even figure out how to use it, or what the point of the site is. Sending little pictures of coffee and old 80s toys? Fasinating. Anyone have any thoughts on this odd popularity?
Good night.

Decisions

I have decided I am going to college. I have to move out today, stay with my sister Erin in her apartment for a few days. My friends and I are waiting to hear back from an apartment we are wanting to rent. I hope they let us know soon because I don't really want to hop around from Erin's home to my friend Sami's place, then to my dad's, and Carrie's. My three months are up, Carrie's husband is coming home from the road today, and his grandparents and two cousins are going to be here. Today is really going to be hectic.
This apartment we are looking into is a two bedroom, so me and my friend Christina are going to have to share a room, and Sarah gets the other room. I have not shared a room in years, so this is going to suck. But it is affordable. 200 dollars a month each. I can do that. But what I really want is a place all my own. I could afford four hundred on my own, the apartment next to Erin's that will soon be vacant, but it would be difficult. Plus, Christina and Sarah are counting on me, so I can do this for however long our lease is, but eventually I want my own place.
I am going to go to college. A woman from work just left Barnes and Noble to go on a six week dig in Mississippi. We talked occassionally about archeology. I have always been interested, but never as a serious choice for my career. Then she left for Mississippi, and I thought, that sounds like fun. I started reading as much as I could about history, archeology, paleontology. I bought several books, taped loads of programs on the history channel. I want to study as much as I can and see if I am still interested in a few weeks to actually go to school for it. I think I am.
Carrie is not going on the road anymore with Ray. She also needs to make more money. We are all struggling. The world is struggling. So she's home for good. Got a job at the BK down the street, starts classes in a few days. She's going to be a nurse. Her sister-in-law just graduated. She wants to work in a high security prison, or maybe go into criminal law. I'm not sure. But me and Carrie are getting very motivated. I'm very anxious to go back to school. I was in college for about a year, and now, three years later, I am ready to go back. Now that I am sure what I want to do.

Dating

It has been a long time since I have blogged. The internet wasn't working, but my neighbor came over and fixed it. Thank God. I really miss blogging. I should be going to sleep right now because I have to get up at six to go to work, but I couldn't wait until tomorrow to write something.
Things suck lately. I have just under three months to find another place to live. How I'm going to save money in that amount of time is beyond me. I haven't been able to save anything from my last three paychecks because of my car. Cost me a lot to get that damn thing to pass the Emissions test. Needed tires, wipers, brake light fixed, etc...Then had to pay a fee for being late for something or other, had to pay for Missouri plates...Like my job pays well enough for all of this. I just make coffee. It sucks that the cost of living is way more than a person makes. I love my job, I am not quitting. I'm not getting a second job if I can help it. I have already tried that, and that's when the depression started full-force. I might have to quit my job and move back to Arkansas if I can't find a place to live.
Well, now that I am sitting here, I have no clue what to write. Hmmm....I had a customer today who was something else. She asked about some caramel drink Starbucks makes, then said she meant Cinn. Dolce. Yes, we make that drink. She ordered a tall. I pulled the twelve ounce cup up onto the counter and she changed her mind.
"It's not much more for a grande is it? I would rather have a grande."
I told her ok, no problem. I start to head for the phone to call a manager over to change it, then decide whatever, a few more ounces of milk, a couple dimes, who cares. Besides, there were two guys behind her in line. So I made her a grande. I added the whip, grabbed a lid...
"Oh, I should have ordered decaf!" she exclaimed.
I smile. "I can make you a new one," I told her while inside I'm screaming, "WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO IN THE FIRST PLACE?!?!" She really had no clue what she wanted. So I ended up at the phone anyway, calling for back up. I didn't want to make the two other customers wait for me to make her a new drink because she couldn't possibly handle two little shots of caffine. Why bother buying an espresso drink if you want decaf? So dumb. That's why we call those the "Why bother," drinks, or--my favortie--"What's the point," drinks. Really!
So I made her her grande, three shots of cinn. dolce syrup, decafe latte. Then I hand it to her and she asked me, "Does this have caramel in it?"
Seriously? A very confused woman. I just smiled at her the whole time and prayed she would leave soon.
Oh, yeah. Here's a fun one. Guy walks up to the counter, buys a soda. I have trouble understanding him through his heavy accent. I have no clue where he is from, but a thick accent he did have. He talks, pays for his drink, then stands there talking some more. I'm wondering why he's still talking to me, I want to go open the Manga I was deeply into before he showed up.
"I'm Chris," he says. Yay, I understood what he said, but why is he telling me this?
"I'm Laura," I say, a bit confused. (By the way, my real name is Laura. I changed it to Charlie because I like Charlie better. You only live once.)
"I wanted to ask you out," he says.
My eyebrows disappear under my bangs, and my mouth drops open. "What?"
"I wanted to ask you out," he repeats.
"I don't date." My face had to have been showing all the shock I was feeling. Why was he asking me out? "Thanks though."
He left cafe pretty quickly after that. I'm twenty-three years old, and that is the first time anyone has ever asked me out. Well, except for my friend asking me to take him to junior prom because he was an idiot and dropped out of school. I was completely flabbergasted. Who does that? Stop in a cafe for a drink then ask the barista out? Really? I'm not going to say yes, I have no idea who he was. My sister told me that I wouldn't know who he is until I go out with him. That's not how it works with me. If I ever go on a date, I have to know the person a bit first. No random strangers who could be serial killers. Thanks, but no thanks.
A friend of mine, a regular at Barnes and Noble, went on a date recently. So we were talking about dating. I was trying to give him ideas about where he could take her next becuase he said he didn't know. My suggestions were: roller skating (a few friends and I were supposed to go, but didn't get around to it.) paint gun fights, zoo, shopping...a gave him a whole list. Maybe I'm weird, he thinks I am. I said I didn't like all that traditional dating crap. You know, candlelight, dinner, movies, blah blah blah, bore me to tears. I think it's more romantic to sky dive, or go sailing. Like the first kiss. Not on the doorstep of her place. Please, way too cliche for me. I think it's much better if it's spontaneous. You're out somewhere, maybe laughing over an ice cream cone as you're walking down the street at one of those street fair things. He looks over at you, and he can't help it. He grabs your face and kisses you. No questions, just go for it. Surprise! I just felt like it kinda think. Somehow, I don't know. It's just prettier that way.
Any way. Really time to get going. I have to shower, put my clothes in the dryer and get to bed. Tomorrow is going to suck. Crema. Inspection. Gross. Of course it's me working while this is happening. So that means lots of announcments, some sampling, and constant business. I can't sit there with the 11th Chibi Vampire or open a copy of Absolute Boyfriend. I have to stay busy, professional. ( A friend of mine got me hooked on Manga and Anime. I love the Japanese.)
Goodnight.

The Freedom of the Old

Suddenly a swarm of women with toddlers all under the age of two enter the cafe, very much resembling a stampede of animals. My eyes grew wide with shock and fear. Should I call for backup? A woman set a large plastic container on a table, and I see it's full of vanilla cupcakes with chocolate frosting. Great. A birthday party. In the cafe. In a bookstore...who does that? Someone who can't afford to rent the space at Chuckie Cheese? My mind was racing with thoughts of smeared chocolate and crumbs. I'll have a mess to clean up when they leave. It just seemed odd, rude, weird that they'd do this. Matt drops off a canister of cafe posters and whispers, "Are they allowed to bring food here?"
I whisper back, "I have no idea. People seem to do it all the time."
One of my regulars, an old lady with a bird's nest of hair and a cane was sitting with her usual warmed oatmeal raisin cookie and half a cup of decaf coffee. She comes up to drop off her plate. When she talks, it's a low mumble, I have trouble hearing, but what I catch is always funny. She speaks her mind. She was grumbling about this birthday party group.
"I know, I was shocked when they showed up. Who does that?"
She mumbles about them and says she has her cane to hit people with. I laugh and say I should get one.
"I should leave my cane with you in case you need it," she tells me.
I throw my head back and laugh. Sometimes I love old people.

Shopping and Unwanted Guests

Yesterday we all went shopping. My sisters, Carrie and Erin, Shane, Jessica and her sister Tessa, and their cousin whose name I never caught. I bought lots of earrings. I have a problem. Do I not have enough earrings all over my bathroom counter? But, apparently, that is far from being enough. So, I have more. I also got a very cute bag from Hot Topic, just the re-usable kind, black with a white skull on the front. I love it. I have been using it as a purse. Also got a new pair of sunglasses. Heart-shaped. Then we said goodbye to Jessica, her sister, her cousin, and Carrie, Erin, and I went to the church down the road to watch Fireproof. Awesome movie, everyone should see it, at least ten times. We rented it a few days ago, then saw it again last night. The acting sort of sucks, but the movie is wonderful. Kirk Cameron, from Left Behind, stars in it. He's a pretty good actor. The movie was funny, touching, and has a wonderful message. I tried finding it on DVD, but couldn't. Also, couldn't find Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister on DVD, either. What is that? I searched online, but it is nowhere. I really want to buy it. That is also a great movie.
Anyway, I woke up about eleven a.m. to discover Shane has two friends over. They are all playing the Wii in our living room. Carrie didn't get any warning, really. This is her house, and she wakes up and Shane tells her he has friends coming over with the Wii. She's like, Okay. Five minutes later they are here. Does Shane think this is his house? I have lived here for a year and a half about, and even I ask if Sami can come over. Shane sort of just took over the house. Hogs the TV, invites people over without asking first. Kind of annoying. Carrie wanted to go to work with me today since I only work four hours so she can sit and read, drink coffee, but Ray wouldn't like it if she left all these strange people in their hosue.
When it was just me and Carrie, it was peaceful. We aren't really people persons. We both would rather stay home all day by ourselves, watch a little tv, read. We don't like having guests over if we can avoid it. Also, when she wanted a cigarette, she'd smoke in her room because it really irritates my eyes, nose, and it stinks. She doesn't smoke much. But now, Shane and Erin smoke, their friends are smoking in the living room, my hair stinks from it, my eyes are burning, I can't breathe. I really want everyone gone. I am tired of smelling like smoke.
Anyway, yay, I get to go to work soon! Get out of this smokey, crowded house. It's awkward having strange people here when I get up first thing in the morning. Also, the house is a disaster, and the stupid girl who is with Shane's friend keeps wanting to call our kitten monkey. How dumb is that? Monkey? Her name is Victoria Secret, not monkey. I don't know why that bugs me so much, but it does. Also, she keeps calling Victoria an it. She's a living creature, she's a she, not an it, thank you very much.
Anyway, I have to go to work in about an hour, so I'm going to go complain with Carrie for a while, then read. Maybe Ray will talk with Shane and let him know this is unacceptable behavior. If not, I'm sure Erin will yell at him later.
We don't even like it when Ray's family show up unannounced. Which they do, more than they should. Maybe we're just really un-friendly people, but this is our home, we don't want people in it. It's just weird. Whatever.

Jensen Ackles

My favorite TV show- Supernatural. I am completely in love with Jensen Ackles, but who isn't? He's got those very kissable lips, the gorgeous eyes, and he looks great lip-syncing Eye of the Tiger. Jared is cute too, but he's not Jensen.

Confessions

I was ready to throw coffee urns at heads tonight. Wow, busy. On the PA system, they let the customers know we were closing in twenty minutes, then ten minutes, then, "It is now nine p.m. and the store is officially closed for the evening. We ask that you bring your final purchases to the front for checkout. Thank you for shopping with us, and have a nice night."
Ten minutes before we closed, I suddenly get a huge line of people, everyone wanting coffee, which, come on, I don't have coffee made. By this time, I usually have hot water in the urn to soak overnight, but I had to make a pot of coffee. And everyone wanted fappuccinnos. A lady asked, five minutes before we closed, if we had any smoothies.
"No." I told her. I was not about to say the Vivanno. Hell no! That thing takes ten minutes to make and is very messy and I still had another customer behind her to help. No way was I making this satanic drink.
Then, twenty minutes after we closed, I hear on the PA system, "Catherine, we're clear." Tim, our new manager said this. He was letting Catherine know we were clear of customers and the doors were locked.
"Thank God," she replied on the overhead. I laughed. How could I not? Do these people not pay any attention to the sign on the door that has the hours on it? Do they not care that we still have to stick around and clean everything after they leave and we're tired and ready to drop by this point? Do they not hear the three announcements we make to let them know, to give them advance warning?
I hate people.
Whenever me and my sisters are out shopping, we pay attention to store hours. If we forget what time a place closes, when we hear the announcement, we make a beeline for the register or the doors. We were closed and I saw people browsing the magazine like they had all day to read the latest gossip. Seriously? What part of "We are closed" don't you understand?
Grrrrr......(growling and shaking my head in frustration.)
Anyway, just a bad night. And I work again tomorrow at Noon. At least I am not opening or closing, my favorite shift. Show up, make drinks, go home. No stressing that everythings not going to be done for open. Not stressing about having everything done for close and ready for open. Just coffee making. Plus I work with Megan all morning, she's fun to work with, and Devin in the evening. I haven't seen Devin in a while. He only works a few nights a week, usually a saturday and I haven't been working saturdays lately. Which is fine, cause church is Saturday nights for me. Which means I'm missing it tomorrow, but I agreed to switch shifts with Sarah before I realized it. Oh, well.
Do I have a problem? Yesterday I bought two books. Blue is for Nightmares and White is for Magic. Tonight, I got a five dollar tip from Pat, so I think, Hey, I have enough for that other book I want...And since I was having a bad night, I bought it. Three books in two days. Do I have money for this? No, but that doesn't stop me. I bought Uglies by Scott Westerfeld. And I didn't just buy it, I started reading it. I'm never going to learn. Laugh out loud, add this to my list of books I am currantly reading. I'm never going to finish a complete book again, am I?
Did you know that Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister is a movie? Yeah, Stockard Channing, Matthew Goode (who is absolutely gorgeous and has a sexy accent) and a few others I know by face but not name. It's a really good movie, I watched the whole thing on youtube.com. Check it out.
Well, I'm off to clean off my bed since I threw clean laundry there this morning. Then, I'm reading. I should read Nanny Diaries since I'm really close to finishing it, but I have a feeling it's going to be Uglies or Blue is for Nightmares.

Trash and Books

This song is the one stuck in my head lately. It's amazing.

I recently found my Fashion Bug credit card, so I bought a new outfit for work. Really needed new work clothes. Nice black pants, kind of dressy shirt with large black buttons and a sort of pocket in front. Very chic. A little see through, so I wore a red tank top under it. But the red tank showed above the neckline of the shirt a bit. Just great. But then I looked in the mirror and decided the hint of red above all the black looked nice. I pulled half my hair back into a clip, keeping it parted on the right like it usually is, and I put on my large red earrings. I have to admit, it looked all looked pretty good. I hardly ever wear make-up, and when I do it's only some mascara and lip gloss. So I put some on.
I was sitting there yesterday at the morning meeting feeling kind of awkward. The sleeves of the new shirt are shorter than I feel comfortable wearing. I am going to fix that, though. Get some material from a fabric store and add longer sleeves. I love altering clothes. Anyway, at the meeting I felt everyone kept staring. After the meeting, a couple emplyees came up for their usual morning scones and drinks.
"What are you all dolled up for?" Knez asked me.
"You look really nice," Matt told me.
"I like your earrings," said Christina.
Wow, I didn't want all this attention, I'm just tired of wearing plain t'shirts and polos. . .
And, by now, I should expect things like this, but nobody has been putting trash liners in the large bins at work. At the bottom of the bins was about two inches of soupy gunk. Gross, smelly, awful. I scrubbed them out one at a time. Christina, bless her heart, ran cafe so I could scrub them in the kitchen. A few blogs ago I posted a picture of the kitchen at work, and there is a gray trash can in it. I scrubbed two of those. In my new outfit. Two bins more than half my height. They were heavy. I couldn't reach the bottom without sticking half my body in them. So, to save my new shirt, I put on my hoodie and wore a trash bag over it. Christina helped me. I cut a hole for my head, too big. I put it on, she cut out arm holes and used a Horton Hears A Who button to pin it behind my neck cause it was too big. I put my hood on to protect my hair, and scrubbed. It was not fun. Half my body in a smelly trash bin, it was hot, awkward, and I wanted to vomit from the stench. I left a note for all to see:

Attention All:

I just cleaned the gray trash bins as best as I could.

Please don't forget to put trash liners in them!

I think the next person to forget should scrub them

with toothbrushes. Lol. Thanks!

Hopefully they all read it!

When Kori got there at four, she wasn't feeling well. She called around, trying to find someone who could come in to cover her shift, but couldn't get anyone to. Though I was more than ready to go home and put on pajamas, I told her if she couldn't find anyone to cover I could come back in after I run home and eat some dinner. When I open cafe, I usually don't eat much. I'm not a morning person, so I'm never hungry for breakfast. By time my shift is over, I'm hungry. She said she'd let me know, and I head home. Fifteen minutes into my drive she texts me and asks if I can come back. I told her I would be there soon as I could. I grabbed a sandwich and went right back to work. I opened and closed. I was very tired.

But it was worth it. Randy, the store manager, came over and gave me a ten dollar gift card. A customer bought a book with an amazing cover that caught my eye, and she said it was a great series. The book was ten dollars, and I decided I would read some of it and buy it if it was good. With my employee discount it was only $7.49. I like the book so much, I also bought the second in the series. Blue is for Nightmares and White is for Magic by Laurie Faria Stolarz. I'm really looking forward to reading them. Along with the zillion other books I am in the process of reading.

Books I'm Currantly Reading:

Blue is for Nightmares by Laurie Faria Stolarz

A Hopeless Romantic by Harriet Evans

The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien

The Nanny Diaries by Nicola Kraus and Emma McLaughlin

Eldest by Christopher Paolini

The Dead Girls' Dance by Rachel Caine

Guilty Pleasures by Laurell K. Hamilton

Living Dead In Dallas by Charlaine Harris

Bag of Bones by Stephan King

The Count Of Monte Cristo Alexandre Dumas

The Shack by William P. Young

The Accidental Demon Slayer by Angie Fox

Stephen King: On Writing by (Duh) Stephan King

My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult

The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart

Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister by Gregory Maguire

And I am more than certain I left something out. Maybe I should be reading instead of blogging. I need to finish at least two books before I pick up another one. It's sick how much I love to read.

Family

This is kind of a blurred picture, but it's the view from my aunt's home in Washington. Gorgeous huh? I miss living there.
Today was very busy for me. Got up early and went all over the place trying to find really cheap insurance for my car. Tried to get Missouri plates, but naturally the woman at the Chamber of Commerce is sending us on some wild goose chase before I can do that. Notice how when it comes to legalizing your car you seem to run around in circles? What is that? Also, I now have a Missouri driver's license. Yay. The picture sucks. But of course. I was way tired, so I ended up looking like I was on drugs or something. Whatever.
The house was packed for a while. Family dinner. Me and two sisters. Brother-in-law, soon-to-be brother-in-law. Dad. Brother-in-law's mom and sister and niece. Two dogs and a cat. Not nearly as crowded as it could have been. Living in Washington state, those family gatherings....well, you couldn't turn around without knocking someone over. I have five siblings, my mom had ten. I have more uncles and aunts and cousins than I can count. I have more than fourty cousins. This all on my mom's side, too. My dad's family isn't so big. Most of his family I have never met. But mom's family, we're a wild bunch.
Finally, though, everyone left. I was starting to get really annoyed. Only Carrie, Ray, Erin, Shane, and dad left, but it was loud. I was sitting here trying to conentrate on what I was working on and I have Erin behind me screaming, squealing, laughing loudly as they play around, her and shane. My sister has a very loud voice. Starting to irritate me. Now everyone is gone. Carrie and Ray left to take Dad grocery shopping and take them all home. I'm here alone with the quiet. Nice. I forget how nice peace and quiet is when Carrie is home from the road. Her husband is an over-the-road truck driver. She's home for feb. but will go with him in march.
I love the solitude, but sometimes I do really miss human contact.
I'm really missing my family in Washington. The kids are all getting bigger. My brother's two kids. Little Autumn isn't a baby anymore. She has teeth and walks and talks. She wasn't supposed to grow up without me!
But they do. Way too fast. My best friend, Sami, might be pregnant. We are all keeping our fingers crossed that she is. We really want a baby around to spoil. I go nuts. When I was living with my brother and watching the kids all the time for him and his wife, I was constantly buying little outfits for Autumn. I love baby clothes. I even have a few cute outfits for when I someday have kids. Crazy? Maybe, but I have always wanted kids. They've always been a part of my life, all my younger cousins and siblings growing up. Naturally, I'll be Sami's baby's godmother, babysitter, aunt, etc...
It's been a long day. Enough rambling, I'm going to go do something more constructive. Maybe clean my room...or just finish the movie I started earlier when I went to my room to avoid the chaos of a little while ago.

Feeling Miserable

People never really look at what they look at do they? I always want to laugh when my customers rearrange letters in something they are ordering. Like the Asiago Pretzel becomes the "Asagio" pretzel or the Vivanno becomes the "Vivianno." It amazes me how very little people pay attention to the world around them. Sometimes I don't pay attention. We all get wrapped up in our own little lives, our own heads...
I'm sick. I never get sick, but yesterday I woke up with a sore throat and couldn't breath very good out of my nose. So, I was drinking Jasmine tea with honey, eating cough drops like they're M&Ms, and running bottles of geranium oil and cedarwood oil beneath my nose. (Aromatherapy) I had trouble sleeping last night, tossing and turning. Got up a few times. Opened a bottle of Lavender, inhaled deeply, and went to sleep. Almost didn't get up for work.
Four hour shift. On a Saturday morning. I'm good with that. Then I have church at 5:30. Kevin, one of the cafe regulars, invited me a long while back, and I finally went last Saturday. I'm going today with my sister. Church is held in an old building in St. Louis. It's also a cafe. Crave Cafe. The money from the cafe goes to keeping the church going. Beautiful place. I love it.
Then tonight is a birthday party. Theme: werewolves. Erin going to the party with me as well, if we decide to go. I feel like crap and if I went, I wouldn't stay long, don't want to pass this bug around to everyone else. I'm kinda light-headed and dizzy. I think I'm going to lie down for a while.
I will survive....I hope.

Customers and Gas Stations

I had a little older lady customer today who stood there for about fifteen minutes trying to decide what to get. In the end, she bought the one, little book she had in her hand. She kept mumbling things like, "I'd have a sandwich if I hadn't been eating so much cheese. I have three cheese dishes at home. What's in this sandwich?" She pointed to the Roasted Tomato Caprese.
"Tomatos, cheese, pesto..." I told her.
"Do you have homemade soup?"
Homemade? Seriously? Sure, fresh this mornin'. I got here at four a.m. to peel potatoes.
I pointed to the soup sign above the sandwiches. "That's our soup of the day." It was potato and Leek.
"I'd have a bowl of soup, but it has all that cheese..."
It has potatoes, leeks, and carrots in a creamy broth. Where does the sign say cheese, I wondered.
"Well, where are your healthy drinks?"
Well, we don't have 5o-calorie mango-banana smoothies chalk-full of vitamins and antioxidents, but we do have two sugar-free flavors. *smile, smile*
I was too terrified to mention the vivanno, which is as close to healthy as we get. So, instead I asked, "Hot or cold?" Naturally I was hoping she'd go with a hot drink, with it being about twenty degrees outside.
"Hot."
Good.
"Are you wanting something low-calorie?" Low-calorie is all we can do. Coffee isn't particularly healthy. Besides, we're a cafe, not a health food restaurant.
"Yeah," She said, all the while I'm wondering why. She's skinny, she's old. Why worry about calories?
"Well, we can make any of the hot drinks with skim. We also have two sugar-free flavors. Vanilla and caramel. You could get a sugar-free, skim latte."
"Hmm..." She stared at the menu behind me another few minutes then wandered back to the bake case. "I'd have soup, but..."
She glanced up at the posters of enlarged food pictures next to the menu.
"What's in the Roasted Tomato Sandwich?" She asked.
Ummm...Tomatos?
"That's the same sandwich you were looking at in the case there," I informed her politely, pointing toward the plastic replica in the bake case.
"Oh." She set her book on the counter. "I'm just going to get this. Can I pay for it here?"
"Sure!" I told her, relieved she was finally leaving.
It was a book about calories, and I had to stop myself from groaning out loud.
My next customer knew exactly what she wanted, was happy and pleasant. And, as I was making her drink- a venti, non-fat latte- I glanced outside at the brilliant sunshine. I normally hate sunshine, I prefer gray, storm clouds. But I knew it was freezing out there- even though, under my layers of black clothing, I was about to have heat stroke- and the sun shining off the mounds of frozen-solid snow was beautiful. I smiled and felt happy. For a moment, just one tiny fraction of time, I was almost my old self again. But I handed over her drink, and the feeling passed, the depression came back to cover my heart once more.
To change the subject, a couple of days ago I stopped at On The Run to fill up my gas tank. As I climbed out of my green Ford, I glanced over to my right. I could have sworn that the person a few pumps over was a friend of mine from high school. He looked exactly like Andrew. But, I was uncertain. It was a bright day, I had on sunglasses, his head was at an angle, so I shrugged it off and stepped inside to pre-pay. My jaw dropped, literally. Was that Josh at the register? Andrew's twin brother? I was completely weirded out. He glanced at me, but I was still unsure. It has been about five years since I have seen them, after all. I pay for my gasoline at the second register and go back to my car, all the while openly staring. As I am about to get in my car, the Josh doppleganger drives past me, he is also staring at me. I went to work. That was all. Maybe I should have said something, but I honesltly thought I was seeing things. This wasn't the first time I've thought I've seen old friends.
I had a customer give me a compliment today. A lady paid for her coffee with a gift card. The dange thing was being extremely difficult. I finally got it to work by putting in the long number on the back of the card. That was the last of the gift card. She asked me to throw it away, so I tossed it across the cafe toward the trash can, and I missed. I missed a lot. It bounced off the rolly cart and landed on the floor near the frap fridge.
I started laughing. "I have really bad aim."
She laughed too, and said, "Good thing you're a barista and not a basketball player."
"I thought about it once, but only because of my grandpa."
My grandpa holds the world record for most consecutive free throws. He never played professional ball, but he did write a book on free throws. Look him up. Ted St. Martin.
Anyway, I gave her her mocha and get the next customer's tall coffee. As I hand it to him, he tells me, "Your job suits your personality." He smiled and wandered away. You know, I do believe I was made for this job. After being an author, of course.
I was telling a freind yesterday, "If I ever open my bookstore, we'd go to work in pajamas and kick off our shoes and leave them off all day. And if customers are rude, my employees can be rude right back." Of course, Kevin told me I'd have no customers then. So? If someone is unnecessarily rude to an employee, I'm not going to make them smile and be polite. Who cares if that person comes into my store again or not? I don't really want want rude people shopping there anyway. Go ahead, tell the bitch off. My behavior will only mirror yours. Like Dime Lady at the DG. I wasn't taking that crap. And I think I would have customers. Not only the nice ones who aren't complete asses, but ones who also work in retail and know all about these evil customers. I would shop where employees had this freedom. If I were rude to them, I would want them to be just as rude back, put me in my place, knock me off my high horse. Just how I feel, is all.
I would love to own my own bookstore someday. I've actually planned it all. I would only sell children's books, teen books. Only one's I have read and like. I don't want people spending money on bad books, after all. And, though I don't really want to sell coffee in my store, I'd have to have a cafe in the corner. Yes, in a children's bookstore. Mom grabs a mocah while her child reads a book. My sister Carrie will run the cafe, that's all her. We even have a name picked out. Our store would be called Scotch Tape and Happy Beans. Scotch Tape for the bookstore because at Christmastime, nothing smells better than scotch tape. In July I can pick up a roll, press it against my nose, and I'm reminded that the evil heat coming off the pavement will be gone the second winter comes round again. It smells like gift wrapping and cold. Weird? Absolutely, but I love it. And coffee beans are always happy. Happy Beans.
I had a customer, a huge woman with black, curly hair and two chins. She walked up with a short man with facial hair. I smile at them. They ignore me. They mumble amongst themselves, then I hear her say, "It's not pumpkin cheesecake." And they walk away.
Well, It's not Fall.
Another, older, couple came up. The woman asked, "Do you have fountain soda?"
"No..." But before I could finish what I was about to say, she turns to the man with her, who is retreating ouf of cafe. They say something to one another, then she turns back to me.
"Do you have fountain soda?"
Once again I tell her no. "The only soda we have is in the beverage case."
She looked. "I don't see any soda."
That's because I'm lying.
"The IBC."
She makes a face. "Root Beer."
Yeah. And, if you look closely, your almost blind eyes will notice there is also Diet Root Beer, Black Cherry, and Cream Soda.
"So you don't have fountain soda?"
"No."
She walks away.
"Go to a gas station," I mutter under my breath to her back.

My Story, Part Three

“Come on, it’ll be dark soon,” Melissa headed out the door and toward the corner.
Mom always said they lived in the best location possible. Right on the corner was Roxbury, where they lived. Across the field from them was Roxhill, their elementary school. Across the street Fred Meyer, a gas station, and their doctor’s office. The doctor was getting very old, and whenever they had to see him, Mom always reminded Laura to speak up and breathe loudly so he could hear. Even with the stethoscope, he had trouble hearing.
Laura hated doctors, hospitals, any thing associated with them. She had asthma, and lots of memories of waking up in the night, wheezing, unable to breathe. Mom would have to pile her in the car and take her to the emergency so they can put her on the breathing machine. Sometimes, and this made Mom mad, the drive was enough to help Laura’s lungs work properly. The drive was always calm, quiet, peaceful, and it calmed Laura down and she could breathe again. Mom hated arriving at the emergency room with her breathing fine. Like a false alarm.
Laura also remembered the time she’d had her tonsils take out. She had to stay the night at the hospital. There was a vague image in her head of seeing her family right before the surgery, but it was really fuzzy. She’d been sitting in a wheelchair, drugged up on who knows what, and there they were. It was like in the movies, when they put Vaseline on the edges of the camera to make it look like it glowed. That’s the snapshot in her head. A fuzzy, glowing family.
Maybe that was after the surgery. She didn’t remember. But she didn’t have much trouble breathing anymore. Mom told her that she’d almost died a few times when she’d been a baby. Stopped breathing. Even had to ride in an ambulance one time. Another time, her aunt Linda did CPR. All in all, she was a really lucky child. Still alive.
Miranda had asthma, too. Dad smoked. A lot. What would you expect?
Dad didn’t live with them, but he always stayed over on Christmas Eve. Laura couldn’t remember when they were together, but that didn’t bother her. She never thought to ask the questions. Never really wanted to know. Things were fine the way they were. During the school year, she spent most weekends at his place in West Seattle. Other weekends, she’d go with Mom and her other siblings to Grandma’s and Grandpa’s in Bellevue. To the haunted house.
Laura had never seen a ghost herself, but she could still hope. The back rooms at Grandma’s were the most haunted. Sometimes, when she went back there by herself, she felt like someone was watching her, like there was someone there she couldn’t see. She hoped it was Shelly, the little girl ghost. But she never felt comfortable when she went back there alone, so it had to be the man in the black top hat. Or the crazy old woman searching for Shelly.
Laura shivered thinking about it. It would be great to see a ghost, but she wasn’t sure she could handle that. She usually went to Dad’s place anyway.
But at Grandma’s they always picked blackberries. Her and her cousins and siblings would go and pick blackberries. Aunt Rosie, Grandma, and Mom would take the gathered berries and turn them into a pie. There was always vanilla ice cream to go on top.
Grandpa would teach them how to catch bumblebees in large soda bottles, or ants in a jar. Laura didn’t think anyone loved Grandpa more than her and her cousin Nathan. He was the world to them. Once he’d taken them fishing. Nathan had been ecstatic, and Laura had thought it would be fun. Turns out, with fishing, it was mostly sitting around and waiting, something she wasn’t good at. She still liked to help him collect worms though. Lightening rods in the ground.
But there was the garden. Grandpa had a garden in the backyard. A very large backyard, mostly hill, with a plum tree right in the center. There were strawberries, cherry tomatoes, and a compost covered in flies. Laura thought the compost was interesting, and Grandpa said it made the best dirt. The compost was near the very old, run-down truck.
The truck spoke of magic to Laura. As far as she could remember, it had never worked. It sat there, rusting, and Laura couldn’t figure out why he kept it. He said it was because of the bag of gold stuck between the seats. She didn’t see any gold.
“Right there, far down. See that brown bag?” Grandpa pointed. “That bag is full of gold. Someday I’m going to figure out how to get it out of there, then we can be rich.”
Laura looked again, and this time there it was. Small brown bag, something Robin Hood would have attached to his belt. Awe filled her, and an excitement. They had a bag of gold coins, just out of reach. She swore she saw it shimmer.
“How do we get it?”
“I don’t know. Haven’t thought of that, yet,” Grandpa replied, adjusting the cowboy hat on his head. He was never without that hat. He may live in the city, but he hadn’t always.
“How did the gold get there?” Laura whispered, fearing the bag of gold would disappear if she talked too loudly.
“Trolls,” he told her, absolutely serious. “Trolls put that bag there for safe-keeping. They didn’t think I would be able to see it. Troll bags of coins are invisible to grown-ups, but that’s the joke on them. I never grew up.” And he laughed.
“They were trying to hide it from you by putting it in your truck?”
“Yeah. And if we ever find a way of getting it, we have to be very careful they don’t find out it was us who took it. Wouldn’t want a mad troll after us. They can be pretty fierce.”
“I’m not scared of trolls.” Laura paused, thinking for a moment. “Maybe, if we took a coat hanger, made it straight with a hook at the end, we can put it between the seats and grab that bag with it.”
“Good thinking. We’ll have to try that sometime.”
She couldn’t remember if they ever did try poking it with a clothes hanger, but that truck held magic for Laura. The old, blue truck with the bag of troll gold.
It was a house full of magic. Ghosts, troll gold, gardens, and the leprechauns that lived in a magic world in the walls. Carrie had the key, but we never found the keyhole.
Carrie had what looked to Laura like an old, antique key, something from a Victorian mansion. She said it belonged to the doorway into their special world, where leprechauns were nice, and no taller than Erin. She said when they finally found the right keyhole to that world, the leprechauns would celebrate their return by making a great feast of cakes and goodies and chocolate on a long table with a table cloth. They would stand there around the pretty dessert table in a green field, blue skies and rainbows behind them, maybe even flying horses in every color.
Carrie, Laura, Erin, and Diana went through the whole house, trying to fit the key into every dent and crevice in every wall, but never found where the key fit. Laura dreamed of the place many times, hoping they’d find a way in. The dreams were beautiful, but only dreams. It was years before she realized places like that just didn’t exist.

Morning dawned, bright and early, waking Laura...

My Story, Part 2

Seattle, Washington wasn’t the safest place in the world, but that never stopped them from heading out on their own. As far back as Laura could remember, they’d always wandered around, barefoot, through the neighborhood. There were gangs, sure, but this was the nineties. Mom wasn’t worried about it, so why should they. They spent hours riding along the sidewalks, pretending they were on motorcycles and had to stop at every store for birthday party items. What was a birthday party without a cake?
“You get the presents, I’ll go pick up the cake from the bakery,” Laura instructed. And off they went, stopping their bikes at every doorstep, pretending to load on bags of purchases. Laura loved living there. It was the perfect place for pretend. Once, they’d found a couple of shopping carts and loaded them with baby dolls, playing like mom’s grocery shopping. The fun of that afternoon had ended when earwigs had come crawling out of her doll’s mouth, and the girls had run, screaming for home. Earwigs were everywhere.
Laura shivered just thinking about it. She hated earwigs, hated spiders. She was a girl, after all.

Laura stopped her bike, turned it around, and started back for home, pleased with the pretend cake she’d bought. Something pricked her bare foot, and she stopped, sitting on a random car to pull the small shard of glass from her foot.
“Does it hurt,” Erin asked, leaning in close to watch.
“No. There’s always glass on the ground.” And Laura was back on her feet, pedaling away. “Bet I beat you home, slow poke.”
Erin took off, racing past, always the faster of the two. Laura didn’t mind. The wind in her face, pedaling down the sidewalk, life couldn’t get better than this. She loved playing outside, would stay outside all day if she could. But, at some point, she knew Mom would make her come in. Miranda, their seventeen-year-old sister, stayed out as late as she wanted. She practically didn’t live with them anymore. She’d recently had a baby she named Katelyn, and had been married not long before Katelyn was born. Laura wasn’t sure, but she thought Miranda was living with her husband’s grandpa. All her stuff was still in the bedroom upstairs, but Miranda was hardly ever home.
“Hey,” Laura said with sudden inspiration. “Let’s go see Melissa.”
Melissa was a friend of Carrie’s. Laura liked her, mostly because she had red hair. That and because Carrie said she was crazy. According to Carrie, Melissa wore shorts in the winter and coats in the summer. Couldn’t get much crazier than that, Laura thought. Secretly, she wished she could be just like Melissa. She wished her mind was backwards, too.

They knocked on the door. Melissa’s grandma answered, allowing the girls to enter the room. At least, Laura figured she was Melissa’s grandma. She never thought to ask where her parents were. Like Mom, she chose to let things go.
“Hi, guys.”
Melissa wore a coat that reached to her knees. But she also had on shorts.
“I was about to go to Fred Meyer across the street. We need more Ramen Noodles.”
It had been Melissa who’d taught them to eat the noodles raw. Open the wrapper, dump on some seasoning, eat. Even without the seasoning, the noodles were good and crunchy. Laura didn’t care that everyone else said they would expand in her tummy and kill her. She liked to eat them that way because it was cool. Melissa was cool.
“Can we go?” Erin asked.
“Sure.”
They didn’t even bother to ask their mom. They went to the store all the time, she didn’t really mind. It was against the rules to go in the store without shoes, but Melissa never wore shoes. Laura would never have the guts to do that, if she weren’t with Melissa. Melissa was a teenager, like Carrie. But, unlike Carrie, Melissa had time for Laura and Erin, and even Diana. The fact that they were kids never bothered her, she treated them like they were older. It made Laura feel important. In such a crazy, crowded life like hers, it was always nice when someone paid attention.

Laura and Erin weren’t allowed to cross the busy street by themselves, but it was okay if they went with someone older. Melissa pressed the button at the light and waited, toes painted pink, for the signal to change. Crosswalks were a dangerous thing. They made Laura nervous. The orange hand always appeared before they’d gotten halfway across. Usually Laura liked to run, but running across a street was for babies. Instead she walked next to Melissa and Erin, head held high, ignoring the flashing hand. Naturally, they made it before the cars started moving again.
“So, how’s Karate class?” Melissa asked as they walked through the automatic doors.
“Fun,” Erin said, and proceeded to count to ten in Japanese.
“We just moved from white belts to yellow,” Laura informed her, proud of the accomplishment, even if she had to share it with Erin. “Miranda, Carrie, and Brian are on, like, orange, blue, purple…something.”
“Someday, I’m going to be a black belt,” Erin said, roundhouse kicking the air. A woman in a business suit sidestepped her and glared, making a rude sound in her throat.
Laura liked the store better at Halloween. She remembered coming here once with Melissa in October. They had tried on scary masks and laughed at the silly costumes. That’s when shopping was the most fun, when the stores stocked up on candy and fun dress-up clothes.
Melissa paid for the noodles, ignoring the glares from the cashiers as they noticed all the bare feet coming through the checkout lane. Laura tried to not look at them, too scared of getting into trouble for purposely disobeying the rules. Melissa, on the other hand, held her head high, acting like it was the most natural thing in the world, wandering around with no shoes on. Laura wished for confidence like hers. She figured confidence like that came with being crazy. What did crazy people have to worry about? If your crazy, people took your odd behavior as a sign. If you weren’t crazy, you were simply rude and disobedient. Laura was in awe of Melissa’s freedom from society’s rules.

“Come on, it’ll be dark soon,” Melissa headed out the door...

One Of Those Days (yesterday)

I knew it would be one of Those days. My alarm went off thirty minutes before I had to leave for work. I reset the alarm for fifteen more minutes like I do every day I have to open cafe. Usually I lie there, mind running in circles thinking about everything I have to do, bills that are overdue cause I don't have the money. I might as well get up, I don't get that extra fifteen minutes of sleep.
But this morning I did. I was out the second I reset the alarm on my phone. And in those fifteen minutes I had an hour's worth of dream. Don't remember the dream, but I was in a deep sleep. Then, groggy, I got out of bed, dressed quickly, took the puppies out, started the car. Yesterday I called in, had Sarah work because she lives a few minutes away from work and there was way too much snow I wasn't about to risk my life driving the thirty-five minute drive to work. Today the streets had melted.

Anyway, even though this morning it was only about 67 degrees in the house, I was hot. I felt like my shirt was choking me, the animals were under my feet, tripping me as I went about the house. Things kept falling off the bathroom counter. Grrr...

I got to work to find out that mocha needed to be made. We only have twenty minutes to open cafe now instead of fourty-five minutes. We used to come in an hour before the store opens to set everything up, but now only a half hour, and about ten to fifteen minute morning meeting...there's just no time to do everything. So, of course, having to make mocha, and all the employees stopping by for coffee and scones is, indeed, a nuisance! Grrr...again.

By 10:45 a.m. I had already dumped a pan of just-out-of-the-oven cookies on the floor, ran low on almost all baked items, tripped over my own feet and almost fell, got stuck in the swinging doors because I had the step-ladder there between the doors as I stood on it to reach above the ice machine to get more to-go bags, had to have a manager exchange something, (the lady said, "Two of the cookies with the sprinkles." So, I gave her two cookies with sprinkles. Turns out, she meant the fudgy brownie bites. Brownies are not cookies. She should have said brownie. Pay attention people to what you're ordering! Grr.) I couldn't find the porcelain espresso mug, I really had to piddle (pee), but my break was at noon, and my shirt was still choking me. Things kept jumping off the counter in the kitchen, I got mocha everywhere, and some genius last night put the retail chips where the sandwich chips go and the sandwich chips where the retail chips go, mixing them all together, so I had to sort through that. This all before eleven a.m. Open almost two hours...Wow, not much hope for the rest of the day. Nine hour shift.

Naturally, nobody bothered to chop up the growing mountain of ice in the ice machine. The ice sometimes becomes a huge, solid block. All it takes is a few seconds of banging on the solid ice for it to come apart. But no one does this except Megan and I. After a few days, there's a mountain of ice, the machine has turned itself off, and there is no loose ice. So I remove the ice shield that keeps the ice from pouring out and landing on the floor, and I start beating the ice mountain with the ice scoop. Fairly easy, but tiring job. Soon, most of the ice was apart, and we're really low on ice. I hit the chunk a few more times to break a few more cubes apart, and my knuckles scrape the ice. Of course I would do this today. Just as my knuckle started to bleed, I hear a customer at the swinging doors. "Excuse me!" What a morning. I really wanted to holler at the person to go away, but the old man turned out to be quite pleasant, and we talked a little while before he left. Real nice guy, though not a real nice day.

And, wouldn't you know it, I ended up spilling 2% milk on myselft and the floor at some point in my day. I had the new gallon of milk tilted a little, trying to pry the stubborn seal to let go of the cap. The cap didn't want to part, so both pop off and milk goes everywhere. Speaking of spilling things, later a regular, Pat- I love her- came to get her usual drinks. Venti, ten-pump vanilla latte with whip for her friend David, and a tall, cinnamon dolce frappaccino for her with whip and red sprinkles. I put the whip on the latte, close the lid and whip shoots out the top. Oh well. Happens occasionally. But I pick it up to hand it to her, and the lid comes off, spilling latte all over my hand and the counter. Burned my fingers a bit because I warmed up Turtle Tom's soup and forgot the bowls get very hot when put in the microwave. More uncoordinated today than usual. More than ready to get out of there, as well.

But I ended up staying an hour later, sitting there reading Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister, same author as Wicked.

My Story, Part One

Morning light came through the curtain and fell across the bunk bed, waking Laura. Giggles came from the full-size bed on the other side of the room where her youngest sister slept with their mother. On the bed above her head, Erin rolled over, climbing down the metal bars at the foot of the bed, bleary eyed and yawning. Laura smiled, climbing out of her cocoon of blankets to join the giggly brigade on the queen ship.
“Good morning!” Mom said, tickling her stomach as she climbed up on the bed, Erin on her heels, Diana scooting over to make way for her older sisters. Most mornings were like this, smiles and tickles, just the four of them in one, large bed. They had to share this one room because the other three rooms were for their three teenage siblings. Someday, Laura would have her own room, but for now, she enjoyed waking up with sunshine and laughter.
“I love you!” They said, so many times just to be sure the others knew how much. You could never say those words enough. At least, Laura didn’t think you could.
After a half hour of laziness, of lying in the bed smiling, cuddling, Mom abruptly got to her feet, heading for the door. Laura sat up, sad that the morning silliness was gone, but ready to start her day.
“Breakfast?”
Downstairs, Mom poured cereal into bowls, setting them on the table with the milk.
“Can we swim today?” Laura asked. The only good thing about warm weather, was the wadding pool they had in the backyard. Swimming was her favorite thing to do, she might as well have been born a fish. The first one in the water, and the last one out, her dad called her a water baby, though she’d been born in winter.
“Maybe later.”

The doorbell rang. Mom got to her feet to answer. Laura knew it was probably her Aunt Cheryl, dropping off her kids so she could go to work. Excited, Laura followed.
“Morning,” Cheryl said, handing Mom a diaper bag. Priscilla ran through the door, Minnie Mouse shoes lighting up pink. Cheryl set the car seat on the floor in the living room, baby Ryan sleeping peacefully. She’d fix that.
Laura went to the baby, ran her hand over his tiny head, anxious to get him in her arms. There was nothing she liked better than babies, except maybe swimming.
“Can I hold him, Cheryl? Can I hold him?”
“Me first,” Erin argued. Erin loved nothing more than arguing. Starting fights, pouting, being plain-old-difficult. With a capital D.
“I’m going to hold him first,” Laura insisted. “I’m older.”
“Shhh, guys, let him sleep,” Mom whispered. She didn’t want to wake him. Mom would rather he sleep as long as his little heart desired.
“I’m running late. Thanks again, Judy.” She hugged Mom, then was out the door. Priscilla was already in the toy closet, digging through the mess of broken dolls and empty boxes.
“Chickey, you hungry?”
Priscilla’s nickname was Chickey. Laura had no earthly idea why, but that’s what it was. Chickey.

“Mom, I’m going to help you baby-sit today,” Laura told her. It always made her feel all grown up to help her mom with the littler ones. She was nine, practically ready to watch Erin and Diana, should Mom decide she had to run across the street for instant mashed potatoes.
“Come finish your breakfast.” Mom pulled another bowl from the cupboard. “Chickey, come eat something.”
Ryan chose that moment to start crying, sending Laura’s heart into an excited rhythm. Quickly sitting down on the couch, she held out her arms, more than ready to hold her cousin. Resigned, Mom sighed, unbuckling the straps that kept Ryan in his seat.
“No, I wanna hold him,” Erin whined, hopping onto the sofa next to Laura. Diana, sweet at age four, waited patiently for her turn.
“One at a time.” Mom handed Ryan to Laura, who went completely still, a smile lighting her blue eyes.
“Hold his head, Laura.” Mom kept her hand under Laura’s, just in case.
“Mom, I’m going to Troy’s for breakfast,” Carrie entered the room, dressed in very holey jeans and a sluttish, red top. Her hair was true to the latest styles, and her make-up was overdone.
“Okay. Don’t be gone all day.”
Carrie rolled her eyes and was gone.

By noon, they had the swimming pool up and running, everyone in their bathing suits. As they played in the sunshine, Brian, their only brother, finally rolled out of bed to sit in front of the TV and watch reruns of Bevis and Butthead.
“Don’t put that doll in the pool, Laura.” Mom hollered through the open sliding glass door.
“But, mom, she wants to swim.”
Mom shook her head, but let it go. She had six kids, nine younger siblings of her own she helped her mother with growing up, her sister’s kids to watch during the day, she found it easier to give in most of the time. Strength was a fleeting thing, there in the morning, but by the middle of the day, she couldn’t muster enough to care.
“Laura, it’s my turn with the doll,” Erin cried.
“It’s not yours,” Laura said stubbornly, hiding the doll behind her back.
“It’s not yours, either,” Erin, eight, said smartly. “It’s Carrie’s.”
“She don’t play dolls anymore.”
“Give her to me!” Erin lunged for the rag doll, soaked through with pool water. Priscilla joined in the game and tackled Laura. Diana, cold from being in the water too long, tried climbing out of the pool, but wasn’t tall enough to simply step over the low wall.
“Laura, help Diana out,” Mom said. She sat at the kitchen table, phone to her ear, talking to someone Laura didn’t know. She talked on the phone a lot lately. Laura never thought to ask who, she was too busy living in her own world. The games they invented, her, Erin, and Diana, were the best parts of her days. They could spend all day playing make believe, having tea parties with hot water and toast. Play with their large collection of Barbie’s, make the girls get drunk and act like fools in front of Ken. That was one of Laura’s favorites. Or when they played roller skating rink. They put on their skates and went back and forth, up and down the hallway, pretending to be at a skating arena with their boyfriends.

“Laura,” Mom shouted, pulling her back to the present.
Laura sighed, helping Diana to get out of the pool. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her.
“Here you go, Bubbles,” Laura whispered. Another nickname. Diana was Tiny Bubbles. Like the song. Probably because she was the littlest, the cutest, with her tiny blond curls and bluer than blue eyes. They all had blue eyes, but Diana’s were somehow prettier.
Diana shivered, and went inside for Mom to help her put on warm clothes. Diana was always the first one out of the pool. She got cold easy.
Laura got back into the water to discover Erin had their favorite doll and was dragging her around in circles, creating a whirlpool.
“She’s my doll,” Laura insisted, yanking her from Erin’s hands. Erin shrieked bloody murder, sinking her teeth into Laura’s arm. Laura would have none of that, and grabbed Erin by the hair, pulling with all her might.
“Fukerassholebitchslut!” Erin scratched Laura, yelling the famous curse words. Always those words, in that order, real fast.
“Erin! Laura!” Mom ran out the door, a sweater in one hand, a shirtless Diana on her hip. Ryan started crying from his car seat. Angry, Mom set Diana down, tugged the shirt over her head, and grabbed Laura by the arm, pulling her from the pool. “Out, now. All of you.”
Erin climbed out, helping Priscilla. Dripping, they followed Mom into the house, where she picked up the phone from the table.

“I’m going to have to call you back.” She disconnected. Brian glanced over, a book in his hands. He wasn’t even paying attention to the TV anymore. He got to his feet, heading for his room where it was quieter, to read his book. There was rarely peace and quiet to be found in their household.
“Why do you always have to fight? Can’t you two ever get along?” Mom was practically screaming. Obviously she’d had enough for one day. “No more swimming. I’m going to put on Barney for Froggy, Chickey, and Ryan. Find something else to do.”
Froggy was Diana’s other nickname. One of their favorite movies of all time was The Frog Prince, starring Kermit. They loved the part where the Ogre said his “Stay asleep and let frog go” lines. They found it hysterical, and it had become a famous thing to say at bedtime, a nighttime ritual. Diana did it the best, and since she was small like Sir Robin the Brave-- as a frog, of course-- she got that nickname as well.
Laura quickly put on dry clothes, Erin did the same.
“I’m going to ride my bike.”
Mom waved them away.
“Me, too.” Erin followed.
“Copy cat,” Laura said.
“You’re a copy cat,” Erin countered.

Seattle, Washington wasn’t the safest place in the world...