Herina at the Meeting

Herina lived like none other, running to and from her scheduled tasks as a high-wire balancing act. Always quick on the pick up, researched and ready to answer to anything and anyone, she discovered that opportunities in life sometimes pop up in mysterious ways.

She worked at three jobs, one of her own devising. On one particularly fine day, a meeting was called for her to perform her tightrope operation to an agent of a very famous person seeking out stories for his client. Pulling together all of her might and will to succeed at her third job that she desperately wished would someday replace her first two, she walked into the fancy downtown restaurant in her best warm-weather clothing.  For all of her devil-may-care attitude at the power of the wealthy, it was a good thing that no one witnessed the shriek she emitted into her closet upon the realization that she was peering into a wormhole.  She parted the various cloth structures hanging before her, willing them into submission. There must somehow be some magic spell that would allow her to suck up the “uh-oh, nothing fits” body into one of these strict seams.

  • What to do?  What to do?  There is no time to take stock and shop when one lives the life of two!
  • She ran to her neighbor. She called up bigger friends.
  • Is there anyone out there who can assist me with threads?

The lunch began simple and breezy. She could shoot the moon with the best of them. It wasn’t until after a few moments of the delivery of the Mission Figs and Organic Mixed Greens appetizer that the cajolery took a different turn. Faces across from her looked less warm and fuzzy and started to glance away quickly while she continued her pitch. She wondered what was going so wrong, so strong she believed in her ability to win this.

The waiter shook up the moment with the delivery of their 4 main courses. He placed the Northern Halibut before her which she had not ordered. She didn’t want to make a fuss, and thus ruin the run of the pitched idea, so she let it sit as she continued.  Then, somewhere from the back of her mind, a thought slipped in from a Facebook post a friend had made recently that included a picture of two worms found in the halibut steaks that she and her husband were preparing. Herina had read every “eww, gross” comment and even a link from a blog written by a fisherman and they were all flooding in now one after the other in an attempt to trip her lips. She tried to keep her mind split in two:  one on the story arc that she attempted to sell and one on the halibut worm memory.  She sipped the water and coughed a little from a trickle that headed down her windpipe.  Seeing this as a universal clue to excuse herself to the bathroom, she created the space for a quick moment to regain her composure.

Out flew the worms and the thoughts of gross parasites as she sat in on the porcelain seat and gave herself one of her “if Mom were alive” pep talks.  She felt better.  Straightening up, she headed for the wash basin, looked into the mirror and smiled. There before her as she watched her lips separate across her teeth in a wide beam, she found an errant piece of arugula stuck firmly over the entire front right tooth. She looked like Lucy performing her black teeth schtick.

Laughing aloud, she rubbed two clean wet fingers across the suspect, wiping it down from tongue to gullet. A fancy-do-type-A elder watched in the mirror while pretending to fix herself.  Herina winked at her, dried off, and walked out resuming her place in society…

Lucy Black Teeth Schtick

Ode to the Worker – Let It Rain

Let it rain…  Click and listen as you read this homage to those all around this globe who toil.

The skin of your palms reveal the wonder of a life in the trenches. The browned crevices on the back of your hand tell the story of the earth’s salt and how your work enriches everyone. You touch so many you will never see. The fabric you sew circles around me, protecting. The color of the fabric you dye brings a gleam to my eye. You touch me, but I not you. You receive very little in return for your countless troubles in your workplace. You barely earn enough to eat, let alone to own a safe space to put up your feet. The man above you does not know your name. The man above him feels no shame nor pain in his pompous daily routine involving Chateaubriand and fine wine.

How does the planet continue to turn in this horrific cycle of inhumane sin. Mistreatment of one for the gain of another. Hordes of enslaved worker drones in the factory and farms of lost spirits.

Let it rain • drown the pain • open the gates • pay a fair wage * share the wealth * We Can Change * We Can Change

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