Random Thoughts

I am at pilates class. Somehow, despite a job that is working me into the ground and [then] undiagnosed anemia, I've been able to keep up with things. I'm lying on the mat, doing the structured breathing, reaching up, then forward until my clenching stomach muscles just barely manage to sit me up. I turn to my teacher. I must look surprised because she says "You know Zesty, you're much stronger than you think you are." A month later my mother is diagnosed with leukemia and my world as I know it momentarily comes to a stand still. I haven't been back to pilates since.

* * * * *

I'm heading to a coffee shop in Yorkville to meet a friend on a summer's afternoon off. I find free street parking, and walk briskly, passing the houses and their perfectly constructed gardens and well cleaned brick faces. Nothing is flippant here. Nothing is out of place. Nothing is allowed to be out of place. I turn on to a main street, passing the requisite contingent of skinny, older, men with frantic grey hair and bony wristed blondes with over tanned and over stretched facial skin. Shaking from a lack of food, I order a sandwich, pay and go to my table where it will be brought to me. I catch my sideways reflection in the mirror. I feel out of place.

* * * * *

It's early in the morning and I am thinking of theatre school in New York City, and the fact that I was there fifteen years ago. Where did fifteen years go? Where are all my best laid plans and how do I find them again? Then I realize I could be crawling out of some hut to walk 40 miles to get my child to a doctor. I hate my own ungratefulness and wish I could see the reason behind things.

* * * * *
I am looking out the upstairs window into our backyard. I miss Frick and Frack, the cats we fostered last year. I wish I could have done more to help them. Frack is now in a good home and Frick eventually had to be put down due to kidney failure. I wonder how the neighbours could have just moved away and left them behind. I wonder how hopeless you need to be to live your life with such a lack of responsibility. Frick and Frack had been in the neighbourhood since we moved here. This summer they are gone and have been replaced by two gingers who are well cared for and visit regularly.

* * * * *

The Marine and I arrive at the restaurant before my family. It is empty save for another couple. Perhaps if you shot a canon ball through it, somebody might notice. The owner actually has the balls to ask if we have reservations.

We do.

We sit and peruse the menu. I note that there are "no substitutions" and "only one bill per table will be provided." I wonder what unapologetic prick runs this place. I genuinely don't know whether to roll my eyes or shake his hand. Eventually my family arrives and Rosy comes bounding up to me, declaring that she really likes my hair. She confirms that if we can't go to the beach, we'll definitely do mini golf instead if it's raining. By the end of dinner she's declared that the Marine's new job description is Super Duper Handy Dandy Fixer Upper, and that Granda better behave himself this year because she'll be listening in this time on the call from Robert, Santa's assistant, who has had to give him a talking to about his bad behavior every year for the past two years.

I wish I could bottle up whatever Rosy's got and dab it on like a perfume.