Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Blathered Chronicle of Today and Days Just Past

Saturday morning the Farmers Market called, of course. This routine is carving deep grooves. I now have one of those stand-up baskets on wheels -- my Old Lady Shopping Basket -- and around 8:30 in the morning I booked it down the couple miles to The Market dragging my flatly folded red basket behind me, jumping it off curbs trying not to clip my achilles in the process. Those who are out and about on the street, whether tourists or locals, appreciate those on the Go (not in a car) and I get seconds-long looks full of nothing but go-girl blessings. I'm learning every detail of this walk; bobbles that regularly catch my eye in store fronts, particular slabs of sidewalk that disconnect and create a pie slice of space in the path, certain tree roots that emerge like sea serpents riding through dirt. I have favorite spots too like the cavernous entrance to our local movie house where the floor sprouts baby octagon tiles, some missing, and the freestanding ticket booth is red and rickety.

Ten minutes in to my walk, I heed a cardboard sign stapled to tree and go towards a garage sale. I do not dig deeply at garage sales anymore. My gross-out factor has risen exponentially over the years even though I KNOW there is treasure buried in the moldy, dusty, grimy, germy, musty pile. Also, my tolerance for clutter has evaporated. But I eye a small, blue desk chair -- we need one for Maya -- and before I look too closely at the fabric I ask, "How much for the chair?" I am one of her first customers. She is still placing things on the lawn; in hand is a crate of clothes where a sleeve has weaseled its way out of a side hole. She looks at the chair and I see her trying to kick start her garage-sale savvy, like she's excited to do the bargain dance. It's early. I do the Broker Dance every single day at my job. I'm losing my patience. She says, gripping her crate and feigning authority, "Uh, $20." And I tip my head back and laugh hard enough to smear a frown across her flushed face.

At the Farmers Market I pinpoint the booths that are now my regulars. My favorite new purchase is organic cucumbers misshapened like little eggplants. They are amazing and snappy and watery. I buy five though I should've bought more because we all love them, especially the pugs.

My basket is full. And I purposefully fluff the kale and flowers out of the top of the basket because there's not much that satisfies me more visually. I puff out my chest and walk to the dance studio only two blocks away. I take a hip hop class from a small, athletic blonde woman named Ladi who is wearing a torn men’s undershirt and baggy grey sweats. Her hair is long and wild and she flips it around. She's great, her class is fun. I pump it and shake it and strut it. I pucker my lips and raise my eyebrows because there's no controlling the Dance Face . . .Between rounds of choreography, I look towards my red wire basket parked near the door looking loyal and refreshing, newspaper wrap and vegetables spilling out, and I almost wave to it.

Mina is in New York. She flew back with Grandmutter after her visit. The girls do this every summer; make the rounds with east-coast family. I love how everyone fights over them. Maya's Vegas trip conflicted with New York this year . . .The point is, they are both gone. And I'm kinda lonely. I appreciate the break, not from them but from the clockwork schedule. Husband and I have taken advantage. For the past two weeks, we've pressed ourselves to live the kid-less life.

Saturday night we went to our New Couple's house. We are trying to seal the deal on this friendship because we suffer from what seems to be a universal affliction, an inability to find other compatible friends that are couples. It's near impossible, and in the past, I've had to shoulder the blame for it not working out. Husband easily befriends good guys, funny and interesting. He just attracts them. And I really get along with his guy friends too. But the wives, man, the wives, they don't like me so much. Their husbands talk me up a little too much which causes an early wedge between the wife and me. They think I'm This. Or That, but they don't find out much for themselves. Or we find that we don't have much in common. I am super nice though and I try to connect, but sometimes I just go back to talking to their husbands who laugh easily and don't eyeball me and they talk sports. Plans to do more fizzle out. So, Saturday night, I pumped myself up to not blow it with the New Couple. The wife was a little cold at first, but she warmed. We all had things in common. I could tell she's not easily won over, but it dawned on me that I get along best with women that tend not to like a lot of people, with women that are not easily impressed. We all end up going to a tucked-away lounge and we drink and laugh and dance a bit. The wife, Tee, and I are rubbing shoulders and talking a lot. She was the top of her college class. She's smart and a little jaded, protective of her intelligence and she down plays her physical beauty. At the crescendo of a laugh, her husband leaned over and said, "Tee, is this your new best friend?" Which is the type of question that will bust up a budding friendship. She said more seriously than probably intended, "I don't have best friends." A beat of embarrassment went by and I said, "I'm her imaginary best friend." And we laughed again. Maybe I kept us in the running with the New Couple.

I took the train to work this morning. Every tiny detail of this experience is perfect to me. When I walk to the tracks, the blanket of people wave over me. They all look and seem completely different. I am overwhelmed by their collective energy. A homeless guy walks the tunnel past me. He is tall and dirty, but handsome and seems to be sporting these round fashionable eyeglass frames. He is yelling methodically, "ROBBERS. THEIVES. U.S. POSTAL SERVICE. ROBBERS. THEIVES. U.S. POSTAL SERVICE.'' I've mantra'ed it myself a few times today. It's catchy. From my train seat I see things like a building entitled Veterinary Cancer Center and the two cars in the parking lot of this building at 7:45 in the morning make my heart sink. I wink hello to my new muse and crush, the LA River which I'm sure has been written about and photographed a billion times, but very soon I'll profess my love properly in a long post with photos. I saw a conga line of tractors inching along a dirt lot ready to build up yet another vomitously bland track community in Orange County. I smile every single time the conductor yells, "All Aboard!" I didn't know that was real.

I am dressed up today, wearing black slacks that I usually only wear for salsa dancing and a black button down shirt, black heels even. My feet objected at first but these pumps are kind. They have kitten heels and really pointy toes that are scuffed bald. I'm wearing turquoise drop earrings. A huge customer came in today for our dog and pony show. I sat in a two-hour meeting full of bulletin points and action items, cost savings and optimization of our magic show. I blurred out many times, even while smiling reassuringly to Mr. Big Customer. Even when I paid attention 30% of the time, I still knew what they were talking about. I still made "good and valid" points. I left my body a couple times and circled above the conference table and thought, This is funny. It's all so drab and formulaic as long as you can convince someone with your confidence, as long as you can stay organized. Big business is laughable to me sometimes. I ate half a bagel which I never do. And drank another cup of coffee. I had a real fear that my eyes would close as quality and expediting procedures were explained. Then the realization set in that if we do win Mr. Big Customer's crillion dollar business bid I will be so incredibly busy with procuring, data entry and paper-shuffling organizational monkey tap dancing. I stopped chewing my bagel -- a wad stuck in my cheek -- and I wanted to bang my head on the table. For the rest of the meeting, I thought about the tagged LA River and the new painting I am working on and how my shoes look so fierce and how bad it would look if I shoved the rest of my bagel in my ears.

12 comments:

Marigoldie said...

Big big big love to you.

Rebel Girl said...

This wife loves you.

Anonymous said...

you're a peach. this is a fabulous piece of writing.

-erica

(i deleted my blog)

acumamakiki said...

That's why I liked you instantly Madness, you don't give it away to anyone and combined with the fact that most women are not the type I want as friends.....you are also my imaginary best friend. (=

This was so evocative! I was out of my body walking to the farmers market, on the train (I can't dance hip hop so I wasn't there) and then I got stuck on your cute outfit....see how shallow I really am?

I hope your new couple friendship works ~ it's so very hard to have good friends that both the wife and husband like.....sounds like a great night.

kiki said...

i hope things work out with the couple and i can't wait for pics of the river. i love rivers.

michelle/weaker vessel said...

Rendered temporarily unable to say anything deeper than...You go, girl! (looks around sheepishly)

It is my mother-trucking GOAL IN LIFE to live in a pedestrian-friendly neighborhood, and I swear to Athena I will rock a Rolling Grandma Bag proudly someday.

I am ashamed to admit that I would probably be a Cold Wife to you at first, too, because, well, um, the eye-melting HOTNESS and shit! (I told you my transformation to not-giving-a-shit wasn't totally complete yet!) But I swear I would get over it eventually, perhaps after punching myself in the face repeatedly and several bathroom-mirror pep talks.

amstar said...

ha ha ha.
bagel ear plugs.
your writing here sounds like how I think - most times. and that out of body shit - that stuff is a muy importante way to get through the kind of times that may force you to bleed thru your ears without the levitation and perfect imagination.

Michelle Fry said...

I went to my local Farmer's market last Saturday and I swear I thought about you as I bought a huge bouquet of flowers.

Melinda said...

Ooooh, good save with the "imaginary best friend" line. Why does it feel like making friends requires so much strategy??

Rennmaus said...

Haha – I also have this little „old lady shopping basket on wheels…
I also use it to go to the Farmers Market here in Mainz/Germany where I live!
We also have these small cucumbers – but my dog does not like it… I can’t believe that your pugs love them…
I really love the farmers market…
Unfortunately there are not so many organic market stands here in Germany.
I like that you always are so positive and they you live such a great “green” life although there are so many people around that do not care for environment, healthy food etc. You never are angry about these people and you once wrote that you were glad that you would not be a part of the people who pollute the city by taking their car. I do this too but I am so mad at the careless people…

LeS said...

Oh woman you've done it again. Fabulous evocative writing. You are living a righteous visceral life and how grand it is! The babies will be back before you know it...

madness rivera said...

The great comments and the amount of caffeine I've ingested are inspiring me to answer!

M - your last post was an inspiration to this one.

RG - You're not A Wife! You're my sister. Love you too.

Erica - where your blog at?

Acu -- Yes, more imaginary best friends. That's how really feel about the blogger community.

kiki - thanks, mama. I took pictures yesterday of the river which Husband was like, uh, that's not a real river . . .hahah. Anyway, I'm trying to capture what my mind interprets as beautiful in a photo. It's not easy, but I have a couple that I'll post soon.

M/WV - I actually don't mind if the Wife is cold at first, feeling me out - if I can warm her up that is. I think you and I would warm up real quick. And yea, I took GREAT efforts to get to a pedestrian community. This is repaying me a thousand fold.

amstar - I hear you. I mean, I gotta have a job so I might as well fuck around imaginatively with it.

Michelle - I would love to see pictures of your market and basket.

Melinda - uh, yea. Our age is directly proportional to the amount of strategy. Why can't it just go back to, Hey Melinda, you wanna go out and play?

Hi Rennmaus - I always love your comments. HA - no, not mad. I mean, it's not always a persons fault for misinformation or the lack of it. There are plenty of things that people can judge me on too.

LeS - Thank you.