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...

Road Trip Weekend and Snow

Finally we have snow. Lots of snow. It took me an hour and a half to drive home from work in it. I left a half hour before close, which is an hour and a half before I normally would have left- the slow manager was on duty tonight. I left early because my mom kept calling my cell, calling the store, finally she called and just asked for the manager to tell him to let me go home because I kept telling her it would be fine, and I can't just leave work, there was no one to cover for me. "You'll end up in a ditch. You can't drive on ice, it's snowing and sleet." No matter how much I told her it wasnt too bad, she kept calling. Even had my friend call the store. She finally stopped calling when the manager promised I could leave sometime between eight and eight-thirty. It was really annoying. Anyway, I'm going to have to call in tomorrow. Way too much snow, no way am I driving in it again.
My sister, Erin, and her bf, Shane, are here. I went down to Arkansas Saturday to get them. I took my friend/sister Samantha or Sami James as I nicknamed her. We all stayed over at my mom's house. It felt odd being there, in the tiny town I spent more than half my life. Even more weird since mom and my stepdad, Monty, moved from the trailer they'd lived in for about ten years to go live in the house they lived in before the trailer. I hadn't been inside that house in so many years. I lived there briefly when I was nine. That was when my life fell apart, so being back in that house wasn't easy. The rooms were all smaller than I remember, but the memories flooded in, nearly drowning me. Especially when I looked into the room I had shared with my two younger sisters. And the room across the hall that had been my stepbrother's. I let Erin and Shane have our old room, choosing to sleep on one of the two couches in the front room. Sami took the other couch, and we stayed up late watching a show about hauntings. Something encounters...I think. Ghostly Encounters? She fell asleep and I watched psychic kids then went to sleep.
The next morning we had a big breakfast, then mom practically shoved us out the door, freaked because "It's going to snow and sleet and get really bad. You need to go before it gets bad. You don't need to be driving in it." We drove to Harrison, made a qucik stop at Uncommon Grounds, the coffee shop that hadn't been there when I lived there. It was very cute, and I wished I still lived in the area so I could make it a frequent hang out. Good coffee, too. Cheesecake White Chocolate Mocha. Yum, Yum. When we pulled into the parking space, I glance out my window cause a car had pulled into the space next to me.
"Guys, is it just me, or is that mom next to us?" I ask everyone.
It was mom. Erin had left her purse in mom's car, and she'd driven eighty the whole way to Harrison to try and catch us. She's too funny. So we had coffee, said our good byes again, and hit the road. I love road trips. Me and my sister, Carrie, drove here- Missouri- from Washington state when I moved here a year and a half ago. Lots of fun.
Anyway, it was really strange to be in Pyatt again. Tiny town, 253 population. It felt like a ghost town as I stood outside the house on the corner that held memories I'd tried so hard to forget. It was almost eerie, trees without leaves, breath fogging the air, complete silence as I stared across the street at the old buildings that were no longer in use. Except I believe one was turned into an apartment. I had glanced around at my surroundings, shuddered, then went inside the house.