Exit, stage left. So long, Papi Chulo Minivan. Sorry about all the Skittles my kids ground into your carpet.
***
What a day, at THEGIRL would say.
This is the kind of day I look forward to, actually, as it required that I get out into the community a bit. One thing I learned through working at Belo is that, despite my addiction to the computer, I’m poorly-suited to spend 40 hours a week staring at one.
No, I like to do different things, see different folks.
First I went to one of the metroplex’s southern counties to do some work at a partner agency. These folks have been good to my agency for over a year.
Things took a different turn today, however. I hadn’t been there 30 minutes when two employees informed me that they had “a situation.”
It seems that this agency was aiding an abused woman, and that her abuser had figured out her whereabouts and was on his way.
Per agency protocol, they went into lockdown, and all non-employees had to leave. The caveman in me started talking a bit, telling me to linger outside just in case. But no, common sense prevailed. I did as I was instructed. When I left, the door was locked, and they were prepared to call the police. Fair enough.
***
So I had a late lunch at the Cotton Patch. Next to me sat a young couple, though I was wrapped up in a magazine when they walked in and paid little attention to them at first.
The young man got my attention when he grilled the waitress in detail about what drinks they had available. Okay. 2pm on a Tuesday, and he ended up ordering a margarita, no salt.
I looked up and saw him tickling a baby in a car seat.
And as the meal wore on I could see how he loosened up from the drink, laughed more, came out of his shell a bit. He looked relieved.
The young woman with him went the opposite direction, getting more and more uptight. Her nonverbal communication was clear. Sad.
***
A guy in a Sonic employee’s shirt walked up and down the sidewalk a couple times, sleeves rolled up, showing off lots of new ink on his arms, one of which sported a red and black cross.
***
The early dismissal gave me time to return the office and work on a presentation for tonight at an elementary school in a town of about 2,600 people.
***
And it went pretty well. It was a meeting for Hispanic parents. The young man presenting before me was nervous, and he didn’t need to be. He had a good speaking voice, knew the language well, and looked good in his suit. Yet the papers in his hand shook. Eh, it’ll come, mijo.
25 parents in the room. Four of them were men. Do not doubt who runs things in the Latino household, ya’ll. If mamita ain’t happy, ain’t NOBODY happy.
***
Before my turn came around I found myself sitting beside a stuffed version of their mascot.
Yes, it’s a porcupine.
Have I mentioned that I love small Texas towns?
***
Have a good evening.
1 comment:
So, which do you think is worse - (Grand Prairie) Gophers or (Springtown) Porcupines? I guess at least a porcupine can shoot quills in the opponent's eyes...
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