Female Suspect

I had an odd experience today. My brother and I were driving along towards our work and right as we came off of our street in our little white car, we were blockaded off by three police cars. My brother looked very nervous, and I could tell he was worried, "Was I going 25 instead of 20?" You know the thoughts that run through your head.

A police officer got out and walked to Jon's window (which Jon quickly rolled down) and the man said, "Yeah, we got a call that there was a burglary one street over and the get away car was a little white car." Just then his walky-talky issued, "Still got the little white car in your sights? Apprehended little white car..."

We must have looked a very suspicious pair. Me, with my potbelly t-shirt and backward visor, and Jon, with his red Toppers shirt and hat. Quite the get-away outfits, really.

Anyways, what was wierder is he looked past Jon and asked me my name, birth date, address, and phone number. I was so nervous I spelled my name wrong. So I'm thinking the burglar must have been a female, because after he got my information he said 'have a good day', and left.

So, my dear readers, you are now reading the blog of a highly suspicious female blogger. Undoubtedly, even now my name is being run through the records and I will now have a place in the police records. How exciting! That was my day... Full of unpredictable twists and turns. Nobody at my work was horribly impressed when I tried to recount my being apprehended by the police, so I humbly went on with my sandwich making and thought on greater things.

Love, Hate, and War

I have often been accused of being argumentative, and out-spoken... perhaps sometimes a little cynical and sarcastic. My childhood was a bitterly surpressed one, so it's no wonder that I have grown to realize that if I am to have a place in the world as the youngest sibling of my family, I must fight for it. My family knows even that statement is sarcastic, so it's no wonder that those closest to me consider me a great burden.

I believe my greatest conflict with debating comes because I know I'm right, but I can prove myself wrong. My brother-in-law Eric just read that statement over my shoulder, and spit in my hot-chocolate with his laughter. Let me explain that statement. (Now he's trying to attest to his innocence, and he says I'm not being very nice right now.) I have discovered that any discussion I come upon can have many answers (duh), and that the more one studies an issue, the more gray one can observe amidst the black and white. Best yet, I know this sounds wierd, but one can honestly take an opinion and just take the opposing view and go at it. It's kind of fun, and one finds the weaknesses in their own arguments. Many people (including myself) often want to take an adament position on issues, and it does feel good to be able to take a stand and fight for all your worth for that position. But any of us can find moments where we are confused when we defend our positions, because there are just many ways to look at an issue.

That's just something I noticed recently, so in a way that's a defense against being called argumentative, but in reality it's more just an observation.

I greatly appreciate those of you who contacted me by email, and by letter to express interest in my graduation. The ceremony actually went greater than I ever expected it could be except that my grandmother fell and went to the emergency room. Otherwise, it was so exciting! I was so touched by those who made such a big deal of the affair, and I was overcome when I looked to the back of the auditorium and saw one of my very own customers, Antony, sitting in our little church pews! Grace was there, too (with 25 dark red roses), and my family, and so many long-time friends and... wow I was just so overwhelmed with love for the world.

Then today, I was back at PotBelly, totally out of my element, and I hated the world. Heh, thus goes the endless cycle of love, hate, and war. Makes life more interesting, no? I figure, I don't aim for perfection, because I'd much rather feel something real and make the most of it. Wow, that was so profound. I do feel quite old and mature now that I've walked the magical aisle. La, the stages we go through in life. On that note... I will be leaving you to your summery evenings and hoping you the greatest peace in your life.

Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence

Okay. Time for a new post. I am typing gingerly, because as many of my dear late customers' witnessed, Grace was kind enough to manicure my nails for my graduation tomorrow... which was partially destroyed minutes after they were done because I am a naturally active person. I believe two nails have remained unscathed since then. I think french manicures are a male invention to render females useless. Regardless, I am admiring my nails now, and from a distance they look just fine.

Today was a beautiful day although it felt slightly dampened by the fact that this was my last day working for Grace. My final amusement was the occasional political discussion (I steered away from actual debates because I would not be able to have a follow-up debate with any one), and a Rhubarb Crisp dish which I proudly presented to my customers as a free 'Surprise Dish'.

With a couple of ladies, Grace tried to ask them if they would like to sample the 'surprise dish' and they misunderstood and thought it was going to be put into their grilled-cheese sandwiches. Grace said, "You wanting sugar? It sugar dish." One woman looked confused, and then said, "Well, maybe a little bit of sugar in there." Grace frowned and looked at her funny. I just looked on, sufficiently amused.

What amused me more was my friendly chocolate-chip-cookie guy, Art, who told me quite ardently, "No, I don't like Rhubarb, and no I've never had it." I scolded him on his lack of adventure and fear of the unknown, but I fear my words didn't affect him in the least. For the next few customers, I gave them no choice because I greeted them rather manipulatively with, "Do you feel adventurous today? Who likes to live life on the dangerous side?" I have learned that there are few American men that can say no to that. Women, however, don't mind shaking there heads at me and looking a little scared and saying, "Well, have a good day," as they scurry off.

In this paragraph, I am going to mention 'THE HOTDOG GUY'... not because I like him in the least, but because he asked to be put in my blog. So, there, hot dog guy. You are mentioned. (you know I'm teasing you back)

Anyways, but I'm so excited, because tomorrow is THE day that I've been told to look forward to since the wee day I began kindergarten. As a young innocent child, I would watch the seniors bob solemenly up the aisle, and I thought they looked almost god-like as their tassles were moved from one side to whichever side means their graduated, and then everybody would clap and it was supposed to be a great moment. I don't really feel like that yet, but I do have a head ache. I think Ryan, the security guard, gave me back the cold that I gave him. For his sake, I hope not, because I know how much guilt he would feel for causing me such misery. Regardless, I'm excited, because after tomorrow I will be free to move onto another stage in my life, and onto new things and new places. The new people thing is always a little harder for me to handle, but I suppose all of us have to face it at some time.

I realize I'm dissapointing all of you who were anticipating a political controversy (ehem, Voltare44), but I really haven't anything too interesting to contribute when it comes to the fine details of the American government and her interests in the Middle East, etc. I find the domestic depravity we are facing here at home far more interesting. (That's a confession.) Honestly, I don't like to write about something that everybody else is writing about, unless I have something bursting from me to uniquely add to it. Someday if I am a successful journalist, I will probably be reporting from the heart of the Middle East, because I insist on experiencing most things first-hand. I like to live life a little-dangerously, I suppose, so my wreckless curiosity is not meant to be a surprise.

I want to leave you with a quote that a dear and wise customer (hi, Randy!) of mine gave me today. It is meant to inspire and it will if you read it closely and apply it.

Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence.
Talent won't; nothing is more common than an unsuccessful man with talent.
Genius won't; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb.
Education won't; the world is full of education derelicts.
Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.
-Calvin Coolidge

With that, I leave you to your otherwise peaceful and pleasant night. It's beautifully chilly out there. Go enjoy it! Undoubtedly, you will hear from me again.

Double Up - Short Story

Ever create something because you needed something to stimulate your mind and life? Wrote this story last night amidst the tortures of pure boredom (actually, I think I was waiting for my computer to upload pictures... it took forever). Anyways, feel free to critique. Good weekends to you all!

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Sometimes the body works absent of the mind. A young girl was laying by the pool, her hands dangling over the cement into the water. She listened to the gurgle of water flowing into the pool and could feel the vibrations of her neighbors powerful riding lawn mower. Even with her cheek pressed to the ground, she could smell the fresh-cut-grass permeating the air. One hand made a ripple in the water and she watched it narrowly. Even though she saw all this, and sensed all of this, she couldn’t real feel it. Her mind was faraway, picturing the casket closing over her mothers’ face.

Somewhere in the distance, children were screaming playfully. The girl could faintly hear the sounds of a sprinkler, and pictured a young brother and sister dashing through the spraying water and shrieking that it was too cold. A wry smile lit her lips as she remembered how her mother used to watch her from the window and rap sharply on the glass when she was getting too loud.

“Joella?” A man called through the porch door, and on seeing her stopped in the doorway to look at her. “What are you doing?”

There was no response. The girl only twirled her finger in the pool and stared at the ripples she was causing.

“Listen, you can’t be like this. We’re all having a hard time of it.” He seemed frustrated with her, but as he came to sit by her he visibly took a steadying breath to calm himself. “I need you to be understanding, honey. You’re young. You don’t know how it is for me.”

The girl only shook her head fiercely, her lips trembling as she fought back tears.

“Your mother’s gone, sweetheart. She’s gone.”

Joella spoke more to the water than the man beside her. “I hate her.”

“Your mother?”

Joella shook her head no again, her dark hair falling over her stormy eyes and freckled cheeks.

“Oh. Sarah. You mean you hate Sarah.” The man took another deep breath and put his fingers together in a contemplative cone, and couldn‘t seem to think what to say. Finally he shrugged and said, “It’s hard for a man to be alone.”

The girl turned towards him with flashing eyes. “Well you’re not the only one alone! Did you ever think about that?”

“Shh, shh, the neighbors will hear you.”

“Well, I don’t care. Let them hear. They can have their happy sounds and I’ll have mine. At least the sounds will be real.”

“You’re not making any sense. You need to think rationally, sweetheart. I think you’re just not giving Sarah a chance. She’s so nice and she just wants to make you happy.”

“No, she wants to make you happy. She wants to make herself happy. She wants to make the new baby happy. All of you guys can be happy, happy, happy, but I don’t want it.”

“You don’t want us to be happy? Don’t you think that’s a little selfish? Listen, I know how much your mother meant to-”

The girl shook her head, “Don’t.”

“She was sick. We all stood there by her when she was struggling. She suffered, sweetie. She wanted to go.”

“No, she didn’t. Don’t say that. Don’t say that. She didn’t want to go! She wanted to stay. She loved me!”

“And she still loves you, but she couldn’t stay so sick all of the time, could she? She was always sick. How could she take care of you when she was sick? Don’t you see? She had to go. She’s happier that way.”

“I would have loved her even if she stayed sick. How can she really be happy? If she loved me, she’d want me happy. And I’m not happy so she can’t be either.”

The man sighed heavily and put his large hands on his knees, watching the girl wipe her smudged tears from her cheeks and sniff deeply. He felt immense pity for her beyond the grief of the moment, because Sarah had once told him that Joella would need to develop a good personality because she was a fairly plain little girl. Nothing was too outstanding about her small shoulders and her high, freckled cheek bones, or her frizzy dark hair and upturned nose. The only thing in her favor was her intense eyes that were now flashing with built up neglect, pain, and anger. Even then, Sarah was right. Joella needed to work on getting a personality, and unpredictable tears were not going to help her with that.

The girl hunched her lithe shoulders over and hugged her knees to herself. It was as though she was desperate for a listening ear, a consolidating touch, a gentle word, but she never knew when she might get it. So she tensed, and she waited for it.

He put his hand on her shoulder, and said quietly, “You need to accept it. Because your mother is gone, and Sarah and I are getting married whether you like it or not.”

Joella shrugged off his hand and ran into the house. She didn’t look back, but fled through the glass doors and passed her mothers favorite maroon couch. She had heard Sarah say the couch was ugly and she was going to get rid of it. The thought spurred Joella’s little pink tennis-shoes on angrily and she skipped the solitude of her room and ran through the front door and out to the side-walk. The sun beat down on her head warmly, and she looked up wistfully at the sunshine. All she could think about was that casket lid as it closed down over her mothers’ thin, pretty face. The people in suits told her they were sorry for her loss, and handed her a dark rose from the bouquet on her mothers’ casket, but they didn’t seem sorry. They just seemed like they wanted to be sorry. Joella kept on running. Running, and running, and running. She passed Mrs. Henry’s house and for once didn’t stop to talk to the old woman and pet her ancient little dog and hear her talk the latest love of her life. She flew past the children running through their sprinkler and ignored the mother who stood by them with big fluffy green towels. A big black car turned the corner and honked at her because she almost stepped out onto the street at the same time. She felt her hands shaking and crossed the street quickly, barely hesitating to breath as she neared her destination.

Harvards was a quaint little ice-cream shop that a lot of children Joella’s age went to on Saturday. Today was Friday, though, Joella realized with some disappointment. She plunged her hand in her pocket and brought up a few lint pieces, a Barbie-doll shoe, 3 quarters, and 2 pennies. Satisfied, she reached for the big brass handle and entered the brightly-lit shop. Lilly, the teenage girl who worked the counter, was chewing bubble-gum and talking on the phone with her boyfriend. Joella sighed, finding a a high red stool and scooting onto it silently. She could smell the double-bubble from Lilly’s mouth. Lilly glanced over at her with darkly eye-shadowed eyes and sounded annoyed when she said into the phone, “Hey, Mark, hang on a sec. I got a customer.” She looked expectantly at Joella then, and prodded, “Yes? What do you want?”

“A double chocolate cone, please.” Joella sniffed.

“Where are your parents?”

“I came alone.”

“Well, you got money? You know ice cream costs money, don’t you?”

Joella slid 77 cents hopefully towards the young teen.

“Huh uh. Mark warned me about you. You come in with half the money and hope someone will take pity on those icy eyes of yours and cover the other half? Sweetheart, you need $1.48. All of it. This isn’t a charity shop.”

“I don’t come in with half the money. Just today I did.”

“Right. Very likely, sweetheart,” Lilly tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned back to the phone. “Mark you still there?”

Joella slid off of the bright red stool and trudged out the door. The shop seemed so deceptively bright and shiny. Her home looked so wickedly comfortable and simple. Why was nothing ever as it seemed? She passed a man in a dark coat and felt that she hated him just because he looked like he had a kind face.

“I hate him. I hate the sunshine. I hate everything, I do,” she cried to herself as she walked.

“Hey, hey,” the older man said as she passed by him. “What’s wrong little lady?”

Joella looked up into the mans’ eyes and saw the worry there. She blinked twice to see if the kindness in his smile would go away. It didn’t. She shook her head to see if he would walk away like everyone else.

“It’s okay. You don’t want to talk about it? That’s fine.”

Up close, Joella could see now that the gentleman was really very old, and his back seemed to be in pain because he was standing funny.

“Uh,” he groaned, “I’m going to sit down. You don’t mind do you?” Joella shook hear head no solemnly, and he heaved himself gratefully into the bench outside of Harvards. She found herself curious about him. He must have seen that in her eyes, because he continued to talk to her,

“Yeah, I’m not as young as I used to be. Believe it or not I used to be quite the gentleman in my day.” He chuckled to himself. “I was always going, going, going. I always had places to go. But now I can’t get around so well any more and I get to sit more and think about what’s most important to me.”

“Wh-what’s most important to you?”

The old man nodded approvingly at her question and said, “My family. My family’s the most important thing to me.”

“Oh,” Joella said, her voice very small.

“My family’s not what it used to be of course. My Marty died only 3 years ago.”

“Marty?”

“My wife.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yep, but it’s all right, because she left behind the things that were most important to both of us.”

“Oh, yeah? What was that?”

“Our children.” The old man looked proud. “I have four kids. All of ems’ grown up now, but I’m mighty proud of them. I wouldn’t trade them for the world.”

Joella looked up at him wonderingly. “Would you…. Would you want to love somebody else some day? Like, I mean, would you want to love a new baby more than your old children?”

“I think I might want to love somebody else some day. But even if I do love somebody, nobody can take the place of Marty.”

“No?”

“Absolutely not. You see, I have met a lady I‘d like to marry, but I’ll never stop loving my Marty. She has a special place in my heart. She always will. Some men don’t like talking about it, but I don’t mind sharing this with a pretty little thing like you. I had the hardest time at first, because I always thought that having new children, and loving new people, meant that I was trying to replace the people I had lost. I could never do that.”

“No, you couldn’t, because you loved Marty.”

“Still do,” he corrected.

“Still do,” she smiled shyly, and then continued earnestly, “So what’d you find out?”

“Find out? I guess I found out that loving new people isn’t all bad. I figure God didn’t give man a piece of love and tell him to cut it equally into slivers and divvy it out to people. God didn’t tell me that I needed to divide my love in half every time a new person came along and needed me to love ‘em. Nope. If God brings along a new person into my life, he’s going to double my love, so I‘ll have plenty of love to give out.”

“Double it?”

“Yeah, like an ice-cream cone. Doubled.”

Joella looked down with wide eyes. “So, does that mean if somebody new comes into my life, I don’t have to stop loving my mom in order to try to love them?”

“Absolutely not. What happened to your mom?”

“She died.”

“I’m sorry.”

Joella looked at him closely. “Yes, you are. You’re actually sorry.”

The man smiled kindly, and stood suddenly, “Hey, you’ve let me talk your ear off. Would you mind if I buy you an ice-cream cone or something? I’m supposed to meet my girlfriend at a place called Harvards. Maybe you could meet her.”

Joella’s eyes lit with excitement, and she stuttered, “But you’re right in front of Harvards! You’ve been here all along!”

“Well, I’ll be. I’m becoming a blind old man. Would you mind leading me in? I can’t see a thing,” he teased.

Joella giggled and took him by his weathered hand and led him in the big brass doors and showed him to the red stools. He sat down with a sigh, and called to Lilly on the phone, “Hey, sweet heart! We’re going to need some ice cream over here.”

Joella heard the click of the phone and Lilly came out smoothing her apron and faking a smile.

“Oh, hi. Sorry about that. That was my mother… she’s dreadful sick. I had to talk to her. What can I get for you?”

Joella rolled her eyes, and Lilly seemed to see her for the first time. Her eyes narrowed, and she seemed to stiffen and be a little less eager to help.

“All right, I’d like to try a banana split…” The old man turned to Joella and asked her, “What would you like, young lady?”

Joella took a deep breath and stared at the menu, suddenly staggered by the options she could pick from. “Mm… I think…” Lilly was tapping her foot impatiently. “I think I might try… the double-chocolate cone.” It was Lilly’s turn to roll her eyes and she disappeared into the kitchen with the orders.

Joella looked shyly over at the old gentleman and whispered, “Thank you.”

The man only winked.

The doors behind them opened suddenly and there was a cry, “Oh! Joella! Thank God, he's found you! Roger, why didn't you tell us you'd found her?”

Joella looked up in surprise at the older man, and he winked again at her. “Little lady, this is my girlfriend, Charlotte Henry.”

“Mrs. Henry? You’re his girlfriend?”

“I see you’ve met Roger,” she huffed, her eyes clearly knit with prior worry. “Your father and I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I saw you run by like your hair was on fire. I knew something was wrong.”

Joella felt a warm feeling in her stomach. She didn’t know where it came from, but she felt warm all over. Maybe she just felt… loved. Suddenly she noticed that Mrs. Henry’s little dog had followed her in.

“Jazzie’s with you!”

“Of course Jazzie’s with me. Who do you think would have protected me if I’d gotten lost?”

Joella knew she was only teasing and giggled. Roger put his wrinkled arm around Mrs. Henry and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh.

Lilly was tapping her foot. “Your ice cream is melting,” she announced.

Joella’s eyes were lit with mischief as she leaned to take a big healthy lick of her ice cream.

Suddenly, though, she paused. “Oh,” she said, “I was thinking… maybe after this I might want to go home.”

Mrs. Henry clucked like an old hen and put her arm around Joella’s shoulders. “We’ll take you over there first thing, luv.”

Lilly was tapping her foot again. “Is that all you’ll be needing?”

Roger looked up suddenly, “Oh, that’s right.” He pushed the banana split between him and Mrs. Henry and asked Lilly, “Two spoons, please.” He smirked and then winked at Joella. Joella took a big lick of her ice cream and smiled.

Spring-Sense

Finally, I don't have to go rushing to the calendar to assure myself that it's spring. Today I officially lay on the cool grass and felt the sun beating down. I smelled the apple-flowers and heard birds singing distantly. I admired the fresh shoots of lettuce and onions and tsk-tsked at the growing prickler weeds. I no longer felt distain for the trees in my neighbors back yard, because they were covered in thick white and pink flowers. Even the bugs didn't seem to bother me so much today, because they were crawling over leafy raspberry bushes and dry clods of lonely dirt. See? We have so much to be grateful for... just in our five senses that God so gleefully gave us to enjoy.
While lounging around during my delicious afternoon, I could not resist taking pictures. It's been a long time since I've actually tried to take scenery pictures with a KODAK, but the results weren't too bad. Hope you don't mind me spreading the joy here.

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Careers of a Lifetime

Whenever I smell balogne, I can picture the first day of school every fall of my elementary school years. It's a stark memory. Apples and bananas would be stuffed into brown-paper bags, and my heart would ache when I was not allowed to talk while I pulled those out and ate. Instead, I had to sit there and think deep profound thoughts, while I felt the chill of the basement lunch room and the crunch of apples all about me. A menacing child-hood, to be sure.

Things that I would like to be (here I am refraining from adding 'when I grow up'):
A 9-1-1 operator
A Go-cart operator at an Amusement Park
A politicians’ secretary
A flight attendant/stewardess
A Photographer
A Creative Writer
A Journalist
The Owner and Operator of a largely political magazine

A typist for trials in court

A piano player at the mall

A professional horse breeder

A giver of lectures ;)

A singer of the national anthem at baseball games

A blogger

Slow down

I just got off of a shift at Potbelly, and I am admittedly exhausted. My brain is fried. Zap. Gone. Regardless, somehow there's a spark of something in there that has driven me to the writing of this post. I'm so interested by the way people interact. There are so many different kinds of people, that it's hard to know how someone is going to react when you talk to them. That's one of the joys of customer service. You find out. Pretty fast. ;)

"Hi, how are you?"

No nonsense eyes skim over me and the person says briskly, "Good."

I don't understand people who rush through life. They always have places to be and no matter where they are, they need to be somewhere else. Since I have my voice back now (the crowd cheers), it is easy to get busy talking and rushing around and having a grand old time, but sometimes it is good to just sit and be quiet and think. A quiet moment can take one places. I remember when I was little I just loved to steal my brothers toy cars and move them around on a little board. When I see pictures of my little blond, tousled head bent in fierce concentration over those cars, it takes me back to those moments when I found absolute bliss in a simple thing. Memories are good, but sometimes it's just good to be where you are. You guys ever seen a couple on a date, and one of them is always on the cell phone? I always wonder why the person isn't with the person he/she came with. If he's always on the phone, and always acting like he wants to be somewhere else, then what's the point of going out on the date? That's just my simple mind at work, though.

There's this one poem by John Donne I'm going to post here. It's a little hard to read, but it is so powerful when you 'get it'.

Stand still, and I will read to thee
A lecture, love, in love's philosophy.
These three hours that we have spent,
Walking here, two shadows went
Along with us, which we ourselves produc'd.
But, now the sun is just above our head,
We do those shadows tread,
And to brave clearness all things are reduc'd.
So whilst our infant loves did grow,
Disguises did, and shadows, flow
From us, and our cares; but now 'tis not so.
That love has not attain'd the high'st degree,
Which is still diligent lest others see.

Except our loves at this noon stay,
We shall new shadows make the other way.
As the first were made to blind
Others, these which come behind
Will work upon ourselves, and blind our eyes.
If our loves faint, and westwardly decline,
To me thou, falsely, thine,
And I to thee mine actions shall disguise.
The morning shadows wear away,
But these grow longer all the day;
But oh, love's day is short, if love decay.
Love is a growing, or full constant light,
And his first minute, after noon, is night.

I picture a couple walking through life. They weather the seasons, and the good times and the bad. They grow stronger together and grow closer. As they first start out on their walk together, their shadows are in front of them (? this part I was unclear on) and those shadows blind others who see them. But when the sun is above them, everything becomes clearer. There are no shadows and they are totally in tune with each other. As the sun sets, their shadows fall behind and they are blind to their own image. That just seemed so powerful to me. I don't know why, but if you think deeply on it one can draw their own wickedly powerful analogy.

Enjoy the moment. One never truly enjoys the spontaneity of life if one is constantly banking ones' life on plans. What's that saying? If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans. At first I thought that made God sound pretty heartless, but then I realized that is absolutely how I ought to live my life. I should live out what is handed to me. I'm learning more and more that there is a bigger picture that I have only seen through a small hole straight before me. A birds' eye view is certainly not the kind of perspective I want to rely on. Some movie I watched (I think it was 'Dan in Real Life' - an excellent realistic 'slow down' movie) ended with 'Teach your kids how to plan, yes, but more importantly teach your kids how to plan to be surprised."

That does it for me.

Mute but still Kicking

I've just experienced the ultimate torture. Set aside all of your nightmares, because today I lived out the worst of them. (I'm being sarcastic, so if any of you have been subjected to legitimate torture recently, forgive your humble blogger.) I can't talk. I lost my voice somehow... and there really isn't any exciting reason for it, so all of the customers that quizzed me on WHY I couldn't talk only aggravated my condition. I had to keep explaining over and over that I think I just got a sore throat or something. Finally, my boss just greeted our customers with, "Andilea losing her voice. She no talking." The reactions of customers varied from laughter, to asking me questions to verify that I was 'not talking', to clapping and cheering. See if I ever get THEM coffee again, eh? I had to lift my head a little higher so that I would show I was not in the least bit effected. What's that old saying, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."

This morning I awoke and said good morning to my cat, and it came out as a whisper. I had my morning coffee, and still... nothing. I had more morning coffee, and pine-sol-like lemon tea, and air-borne, and 5 gallons of water (no joke), and still... bleh. You cannot believe how horrible it was! I felt like a dammed waterfall, never to flow free again. I never realized until today how much I have to say and how much I long to say it.

When people learned I couldn't talk, many winced at me and said, "Oo - that must be hard for you." Thanks alot. lol - no, I was a good sport, because probably talking too much is what put me in this predicament. See? There! I admitted it!

I've heard that whispering can almost damage your throat worse, so I am very bitter towards all of my customers that insisted on my whispering instead of using my 'communication board' /expo marker board (ehem, 2 bagels and frito guy). In the morning I became so amused, though, because when I would whisper to some customers, they would whisper their answers back. Then they would look at me quizzically and say, "Why are we whispering?" That made me want to laugh so hard, but I couldn't even laugh! Aaagh! Again, the proverbial dam of sound within me, struggling to be free from its' cold hard prison of fate. I am SO excited about tomorrow, because it might bring me a step closer to releasing this pent up voice of mine.

Along time ago I signed up for a 'Women Defend Yourself' class where the tactics are, "Shock, Scream, and Run". With my great luck, that class began tonight. When 'screaming' was addressed, my instructor felt he needed to add, "But in Andrea's case, we would whisper." My first class! And my MOM had to introduce me! Wow... great humility. Regardless, I refused to let it get me down. It was really fun, because everybody was wearing these cute little belted outfits and looked all solemn. My partner winced every time I mock-punched her and we ended up laughing alot. Over all, the people at Oom Yung Doe had a great combination of easy-going approach and serious-minded techniques. It was a nice place, but my mom accidentally called it 'Oom Yung Dung'. That was another moment where I wanted to employ my awesome gasp/laughing.

Anyways, that's just a personal bit I felt like blatting all over my computer screen and hopefully yours as well. Rest assured, the second fastest thing I can do besides talking, is writing. So this is my voice... the one I've been holding in all day. Appreciate it, because when I get my voice back, I am going to be using it.

A Greatness taken for Granted

Jim, one of my amazing Caesar salad and Grape Juice customers, has repeatedly been bringing me down articles on the horrors of Islamic terrorism, so that I might read with wide eyes during my hour of ultimate boredom. The subject will not evade me, it seems, because I just came from listening to a Rush Limbaugh segment and he was conducting an interview with some guy who wrote a book. I think it was 'Jackson' somebody who wrote some book about the dangers of Islam; dangers most people aren't aware of. That's not what's important, though. What's important is all of that made me start thinking about how people take for granted the greatness of this country.

I think there's a great parallel between the World Trade Centers and America. Alot of people want to argue that since there have been no more major terrorist attacks on American soil since 2001, there is no longer a danger. In fact, they say there is so little danger that our troops have no business interfering on Iraqi soil. All I have to do is mention the word 'war', and many of my customers will get raised eyebrows and go off on a tangent about this 'sorry excuse of a war'. My boss' son is a soldier stationed in Iraq right now, though, so many of those customers will curb their vehemency in her presence. My point here is not that those customer do not have a right to anger, or to their opinion. Absolutely not. I think it's awesome that I can hear people contradict with me and talk about differences of opinion. I think I'm like alot of people in wishing that there wasn't such a thing as war, but I am not so clueless as to think that America is a country that can just sit by and remain great. Even our founding fathers were not sure that America would last for a few years... much less forever.

While the World Trade Center bombing of '93 frightened people, nobody took it as a declaration of war. The Trade Centers stood firm and were repaired. They were considered un-destructable. Life went on. Then 9/11 2001 came and went... the World Trade Centers sank to it's knees... and it sent American's to their knees in prayer and sorrow. The core of American resolve was shaken and on their knees they were strengthend. What happened since then? How has simply seven years weakened our resolve to keep on the offensive to prevent equally devestating attacks against our great country? I think it says alot for President Bush and our troops that America hasn't had any more major attacks on her soil since 2001. When I told one of my customers that, she exploded, "What do you call the anthrax attack?" lol. That was reaching a bit, to compare 'the anthrax attack' to 'the 9/11 attack'.

America is the greatest country in the world. There's no doubt of that. But are we seriously naive enough to think that the war has NOT been helping prevent attacks on our soil? Are we honestly content with the Jimmy Carters' of America conducting 'peace treaties' with Hamas? Are 'we the people' so content with being separated into our political parties, that when a republican in office happens to declare war, we cannot support him all the way to victory because of his political PARTY? Terrorists ARE dangerous... Islam DOES teach violence... All I can do when I hear people whine about how ritarded it is for our troops to be sacrificing themselves for a 'lost cause' is bite my tongue until it bleeds. I just feel so strongly that America is not a 'great' country that will last 'forever' unless we, the people of America, continue to fight for that greatness.

What happened to the unsinkable Titanic? It sank. What happened to the undestructable World Trade Centers? It was destroyed. Great America has been amply warned. The warm security of ignorance is no longer ours. There IS a war, and we ARE winning it. Daily, terrorists (who are often defined in the main stream media as 'innocents') are killed. That's awesome. You know why? Because terrorists are TRAINED to KILL Americans! This is not just a 'war' to them... it is a way of living. We may retire from war, but until they (and their way of thinking)are no longer living, innocent people are in danger. One terrorist killed is quite possibly two Americans saved. I wish these people could be 'untrained' and spared... but where the security of Americans and war is involved... it is not something we have the authority to risk. We cannot just introduce a Bible and immediately retrain the way these terrorists think. They are programmed for death.

I have often heard people complain that the democracy we are implementing there is pointless, and America has NO right to interfere with their politics. WHAT politics? I don't really care about the democracy... that's just something that's supposed to help the citizens get back on their feet. That is the compassion of America in action. Our OBJECTIVE is to destroy Al Qaida and other terrorist regimes. Their main objective is to oppress their citizens and inspire Muslim Extremists to eliminate the real INNOCENTS of America. It makes me sick when I think of how many journalists cannot sit back from their political bias and just look at America as their country that they must defend at all costs.

We want to secure a safe, strong nation for this generation, and the generations to come, don't we? Absolutely. So let's stop pretending that our good name is going to keep us safe. It is our good men and women that are fighting for us even as I write these humble words that are keeping us safe. Greatness is a pursuit, not a fact.