Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Fantasies are Best

So, I just got home from working out at the gym and yes, of course I have a funny story for that as well. I work out at a Native American fitness center and I don't keep a regular schedule so no, you can't catch me when you think you can and take pictures of me walking and singing to myself on the treadmill. You can't stalk me and look for my car in the parking lot because I park my car at the high school nearby and I walk to the fitness center after I complete the trek around the football field first, but that's not the funny story.

I'm a whitey, born out of white people who were born to white people who just couldn't be any less pigmented when it comes to color and that doesn't bode well with me. I mean, I think God thinks its funny to let my face and arms tan but leave the rest of me to shine like a beacon of fresh light illuminating the way for others -- but I think God still hasn't forgiven me for that harvest-fantasy I refuse to give up. He's playing with me. Because I'm white I wanted to tan. Because I'm wanting to tan and I belong to a fitness center I thought it would be great to see if they had a tanning bed today. I didn't ask when I joined, I was more concerned with the amount of time I could spend each day on the treadmill without being asked to get off so someone else could have a go. (The answer is they don't kick you off! I love that. Now, that either means they have a lot of treadmills, or not that many people in my town are interested in losing weight, I don't know.) Leave it to me to ask the manager of the Native American fitness center (where most of the patrons are this lovely brown tone) if they had a tanning bed. BEFORE the words fully left my mouth I was dumbfounded that I had asked.....they laughed.

I think two of them were ready to kick in the butt, but one was really nice. She took me outside and said "There it is!", as she pointed to the Sun. Yes, yes, I know...brag brag brag. Then she said "Hey, you took our land. The least you could do is let us keep our color." I wanted to smack her, but hugged her instead.

I came home to feast on what I think has to be a perfect meal; cottage cheese, tiny carrots and grapes. I looked in the frig and you know it, my kids ate the grapes. Damn kids. You see, in my fantasies, the ones where I'm living alone in the mountains, biking, hiking, and living the life of a Great American novelist - - I don't have kids. I don't have to ever worry about my grapes being eaten unless I am the one eating them, and God forbid they ever choose to share the cottage cheese or carrots. No, no, I'm OK there - - no fruit for lunch. I'll survive for an hour or so and just after I write this blog and complain about it, I'm walking to the store to pick up a peach. If some farmer had a peach or apple tree between here and Homeland, I'd steal it! I would, I'd walk right into that field and TAKE IT...I'm so THAT way.

It is true, I do fantasize about not having the girls with me. I don't have to think about not living with Reuben, I haven't had him in the house on a regular basis since I kicked him out at the age of 16 3/4. Little Eagle was what I called him then, and I'd say "Fly! Go ahead! Do it!" When I close my eyes now and think about the mountain living and all the grapes I can possibly stand -- I tear up. The ducts in my brown eyes swell and I can't speak - - imagine it: a clean house, no clothes on the floor, no shoes behind the bathroom door causing me to hit my face abruptly when I open it at 2:00 a.m. No rap music blaring out of the rooms beside mine, and no half-naked, sometimes fully naked girls screaming at each other and playing tug-o-war with a particular shirt or dress that both of them had planned to wear to the party they were planning at my house that evening. I love my mind.

Nope, it's reality for me. I'm eating cottage cheese and carrots for lunch, walking to the store and picking up that peach soon. It would be nice if one or two of these dreamlike states of mind could manifest - - but now that I think about it, that cornfield on the way to the store would be a good place to tackle Sinise, roll him over, sit on him and shuck him...did I say that out loud? Wow, I'm blushing.

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