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endings are the new beginnings - 2015-06-22
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then and now

2004-07-19 - 10:35pm

This young Latina girl was folding laundry next to me earlier today and I flashed back to this store I used to work at when I was barely a teen - this Indian art and clothing store. They had Hopi dolls and my first exposure to country music, the same thirty seven songs day in and out. The only song I liked from the damn set was The Dance by Garth Brooks, which is still played just as often today on the Country station. Which I now like, except for the other thirty six songs that are still in circulation today.

This store was really timeless, the owners were the only two people I had ever witnessed wearing real cowboy hats until years later when I moved to Arizona, and was shocked that real cowboys existed. They even built campfires ten cars long, and wore Wranglers. They weren't joking.

I worked with this little Asian girl Amy at the store who was also a little chubby, Americanized no doubt. My Mother was teaching Psychology at the college and Amy was one of her students so my mother kind of set us up as friends. I let her sleep over one night, but the girl was so fussy and chatty! And loud, I never liked to have people sleep over, I used to shush them repeatedly to their surprise and my paranoia. I was sure my mother was listening and taking notes one story above us to analyze with my father later in the week.

When Amy sat up in the bed, so did her hair, straight up static. Very cute. Amy was a cutie, at least my mother thought so. I thought she might be a little too cutsie for me, but it turned out she wasn't. She smoked and drank and probably should've been one of my mother's patients, forget about being one of her students, all the bizarre stuff she told me in the middle of that night.

The woman that owned the Indian store was a sweet old raisin woman who wore lots of turquoise and silver which sort of weighed her down. I think she would have walked a lot faster across the store if she'd just lighten up a pound or two on it, never mind what worked for the Indians during Pow Wows. Her right hand woman was another single (not by choice) white female who derived great pleasure in torturing little Amy and me with mind games and in her off time, serving Satan. She wore a lot of heavy silver and turquoise too, and though I hate to say it, it looked pretty good on her, she was like a linebacker, so she could handle the weight of the stones. She loved to sing all the country songs while polishing the bracelets, the only time she was tame, kind of like a sleeping baby pirhana with it's teeth removed.

I never was good at folding the Indian t - shirts, and even watching her do it didn't help me learn. She was so extremely unhappy with my folding and Amy's disappearing act, that she would evil eye us constantly throughout our term there. Plus the fur in the jewelry cases smelled like warm sweet bunny from the lights in the case. It was weird.

Back to the Latina girl, she was folding and so was I, and she was sweet, not at all like my captor above. To this day I still don't fold well, probably in retaliation. This girl today took three minutes to fold a men's dress shirt. I just don't have that kind of time, but her clothes did look really pressed. Because she patted them with her hands until they were flat like paper. Pounded. There's definately a system someone's teaching out there. It's like photocopying, I'm not adept at that, either, but I'll bet this girl is. I almost asked her how she got her t-shirts so airtight. Or how to fold a sheet when you don't have someone with you. I just ball it up and then try to make it look square.

*************************************

Tonight I was grabbing a drink at the Co op and this really familiar looking person walked by with some woman. He was behind me on line, so I asked him.

"Weren't you a before and after photo in some raw food book? "

"Yeah! How did you know?"

Then he took off his hat to show his hair, like it was proof that it was really him. I didn't get that part. I already know it's you, that's why I asked.

"Cause I have the book. Very dramatic change. Nicely done."

"Paul Nison's book?"

"Yep. Still raw?"

"Definately. Are you?"

"Yes."

Then he said he just got back from Germany, and the rest I tuned out, although I didn't mean to. It's just been a long day.

In other news:

Marty's hearing was today. It's looking good for him, I got no less than four calls from Big Jim today at work giving me the full report.

"This guy's got a good shot TOTALLY."

"Me again. Now his families outside the courthouse."

"Hey. Don't look good for the other guy. They found a bloody pipe. What? I don't know what pipe. They said pipe!"

I don't know how some people live their complicated lives. I have a hard enough time writing about it.

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