This Zygote is gutsy. She rode the bus to a volunteer job after dropping off the old Volvo at a new Repair Shop this morning.
I wondered at first if my black baseball cap was 'flashing' a gang color, but when a street wise daddy climbed on carrying a stroller, his black baseball cap looked sane & self assured; so then I was too. The iPhone was a welcome companion, but having those earbuds in makes the journey selfish. It's harder to pray for the morbidly obese pregnant teenage rider, or that plump, adorable 7 yr. old copying his grandfather's every move, when Latin Jazz artist interviews are coming from your pocket. Hard to enjoy the banter between the driver and his regulars, who act like the whole bus load of passengers can't hear them carrying on. The trendy toy got HOT to the touch as I transferred from an L.A. Metro to a Long Beach City bus. "Oh great. Have I fried my new friend already?" But I kept it hidden, remembering how much attention it attracted, even at the UPtown, 'burbish Civil War reenactment on Sat.
I got off at Willow Ave., where a beautiful new McDonald's loomed large. The last time I was in a Golden Arches was 2007. Wish it were oftener, Ronald McDonald House Charity and all.
After buying the cheapest thing on the menu, the stop light gave me 25 seconds to cross the street, & I hobbled over in ten (sprained ankle). Then it was across the parking lot to clean a clinic. Eleven months of bi-weekly sink & toilet scouring, disinfecting drawer pulls and doorknobs, dusting & vacuuming, and my commitment is starting to wobble. Well it should. My sprained foot was killing.*
After two more hrs. of PBS World Music reports and the kids' Coldplay Radio on Pandora, the phone had cooled, but I wondered why I keep listening to "NairNair" electric guitar? I hate that stuff. I guess being at Birth Choice makes you feel like one of the wild things who come in for free services; & then I recalled how, just a few long seasons ago, I WAS that (semi-)wild thing coming in for free services, surprised but happy to be an unwed girlfriend to a pudgy ex-football-jock who convinced her to end her lifelong sexual abstinence. . . OR did I convince him. It's a bit muddled and unclear.
Denial, and twenty five years, had masked the thought. I was, once upon a time, so much more Diana than Dora.
But, I would never choose to ride a bus in the Diana Ross days. American Zygote has gotten braver.
*Tendered my "resignation" when they gave themselves the day off w/o telling me & I showed up to a locked clinic with no way to get in... for the third time. Zygote hopes she will grow a long extender pole on her Patience Gene before her nine month gestation is up. And a bus pass with an extra buck fifty for the ride home would be nice.
I wondered at first if my black baseball cap was 'flashing' a gang color, but when a street wise daddy climbed on carrying a stroller, his black baseball cap looked sane & self assured; so then I was too. The iPhone was a welcome companion, but having those earbuds in makes the journey selfish. It's harder to pray for the morbidly obese pregnant teenage rider, or that plump, adorable 7 yr. old copying his grandfather's every move, when Latin Jazz artist interviews are coming from your pocket. Hard to enjoy the banter between the driver and his regulars, who act like the whole bus load of passengers can't hear them carrying on. The trendy toy got HOT to the touch as I transferred from an L.A. Metro to a Long Beach City bus. "Oh great. Have I fried my new friend already?" But I kept it hidden, remembering how much attention it attracted, even at the UPtown, 'burbish Civil War reenactment on Sat.
I got off at Willow Ave., where a beautiful new McDonald's loomed large. The last time I was in a Golden Arches was 2007. Wish it were oftener, Ronald McDonald House Charity and all.
After buying the cheapest thing on the menu, the stop light gave me 25 seconds to cross the street, & I hobbled over in ten (sprained ankle). Then it was across the parking lot to clean a clinic. Eleven months of bi-weekly sink & toilet scouring, disinfecting drawer pulls and doorknobs, dusting & vacuuming, and my commitment is starting to wobble. Well it should. My sprained foot was killing.*
After two more hrs. of PBS World Music reports and the kids' Coldplay Radio on Pandora, the phone had cooled, but I wondered why I keep listening to "NairNair" electric guitar? I hate that stuff. I guess being at Birth Choice makes you feel like one of the wild things who come in for free services; & then I recalled how, just a few long seasons ago, I WAS that (semi-)wild thing coming in for free services, surprised but happy to be an unwed girlfriend to a pudgy ex-football-jock who convinced her to end her lifelong sexual abstinence. . . OR did I convince him. It's a bit muddled and unclear.
Denial, and twenty five years, had masked the thought. I was, once upon a time, so much more Diana than Dora.
But, I would never choose to ride a bus in the Diana Ross days. American Zygote has gotten braver.
*Tendered my "resignation" when they gave themselves the day off w/o telling me & I showed up to a locked clinic with no way to get in... for the third time. Zygote hopes she will grow a long extender pole on her Patience Gene before her nine month gestation is up. And a bus pass with an extra buck fifty for the ride home would be nice.
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