Ooooooh, I got The Sweater in the mail today. My wildest dreams couldn't have done it justice. But I think it still needs a little... something... so I will post a picture as soon as I get it *just right.* (I asked my 4 year old what she thought of it. Her response, "Ummm...it's nice. Yeah. Nice." I asked her if she wanted to try it on and she diplomatically replied, "Oh, well, um... my arms are kind of short.") Oh! I do have to say, my favorite feature?? It's a size Medium. Let's just say that whoever gave this thing it's size label was not only delusional, but is now my favorite person on the planet.
So, I don't really feel like writing anything today. No--that's not true. I just don't feel like putting forth any effort. So I thought I would, instead, do a character sketch/ponder aloud.
Every day, I drop my 4 year old off at her preschool at the local elementary school. At the same time, an ancient, ghetto, yellow bus with the words DEE'S AFTER SCHOOL spray painted on the side, comes and parks under some lovely oak trees across the street. And there it remains, with the driver inside, until school gets out.
So let's talk about this driver. What kind of person has a job that requires you to sit there, in a bus, for several hours? Breathing in bus smell. Sometimes I see her gazing out the window, but most of the time she appears to be asleep. She looks like the kind of person who should be named LaDeen. Donnette. Maybe Velma. She has a bad perm, and a fe-mullet. I have a hunch that, under her seat, she has a stash of good southern food like Moon Pies, Pork Rinds, and Cheerwine. Which also begs the question--where does she go when she needs to "go"?
This is someone's life. Someone gets up, every day, and climbs into that bus. I hope they pay her well, because she is certainly workin' hard for that money.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
3 comments:
I could feel the day, see the trees, the bus, and the driver. I hope she doesn't read your blog- but perhaps she would not recognize herself. (little smile) What a twist to end with empathy and a hint of respect. Denise
A fe-mullet! Genius!
Ah, Cheerwine. We southerners were weaned on it -- didn't you know it's the drink of the gods? That's right, good old Nawth Calina ambrosia.
I can see her, even smell the bus smell, with a slight undertone of marshmallow and salty snacks . . . but I can't really see her. I'm making no sense here . . . I guess I'm asking for a deeper exploration into her possibilities. Gazing at what? Why not reading? That's what I'd be doing should I have the fortune of several disposable hours. Does she listen to music? The radio? Gospel, country, Christmas tunes, AM, whatever -- any of those things might give us a clearer glimpse into who she is without really knowing for sure.
For whatever that's worth.
PS I have been known to buy clothes solely because they are labeled something smaller than what I usually wear. I think expensive lines cut sizes big on purpose so you can feel really great about yourself for fitting into that 6 . . . or 8 . . . or 10.
So true, InkMom. This could definitely use some filling out and more detail. It may be a project/prompt I come back to. By the way, I think if she was listening to music it would have to be Johnny Cash. No. Wrong--Kenny Rogers.
Post a Comment