* I coast a lot when I drive Alejandro the Drug Dealer Truck. It has some sort of suped-up dual exhaust system which is looooooud. I love it. It makes me grin like a fool every time I start the truck.
But I feel a little guilty when driving past the itty-bitty store front church when I'm on my way home from teaching drug class. They are in there, trying to have a prayer meeting. They are bunched right up against the plate glass windows in the front, just feet from the street. So, I let off the gas and the noise subsides a bit.
And I feel a little guilty when I turn the key at 5:45 a.m. to go to the Y. Unfortunately, you can't coast past the cotton field, so my neighbors get an early morning wake-up call. You're welcome, guys. Really.
** If you were doing a sketchbook with the theme "It will be fun. I swear." and you'd already drawn a Ninja Vampire, what would you draw next?
*** Got a new girl on probation today. Ask Mindy about her, and she'll shrug and tell you "at least she's got good self-esteem." The girl's head is shaped like a stubby candy corn. Her eyes are set too far apart and look like they didn't finish drawing the eyeball. The white of the eye sort of runs over into the dull blue iris. Evidently, she attempted to embrace her general pallidness and dyed her hair vampire-black. Whether or not she saw the error of this choice is unknown, but it's now growing out, leaving a skull-cap of dirty blonde visible at the root.
She had many, many things to say. Among them: "I only drink on the weekends. I don't like to get belligerent-drunk because I don't like to puke." And "I would punch Jesus if he stood between me and my kids. I know he's God and all, but they mean everything to me." (These would be the kids that Child Protective Services took away from her and gave to someone else to raise.) My favorite, however, was this, uttered in response to my litany of ways she can violate this probation and end up in jail: "I know this sounds awful, but I just can't go to jail. I'm too pretty to go to jail."
**** Still appalled by the racism that has bubbled to the surface around here since the last presidential election. Jokes that would not have been uttered anywhere other than out behind the barn (because they've always been here, we've just tried to keep them somewhat hidden) are now being uttered in public. With zero expectation of repercussion. That just floors me. Seriously.
Anyway, I was in a restaurant this morning and the usual group of businessmen were there having their usual breakfast a few tables away. One of the men, a well-known local business owner, a deacon in his church, and an all around bastion of civic involvement, told an awful joke about the president. There were three other men at the table with him, one of them Hispanic, the other two white.
I was eavesdropping and trying to read my book at the same time. I didn't look up, so I don't know the reaction of the two silent table mates. But one of the men (who is also a leader in his church) told the joker, after a moment of what I assume was stunned silence, that his joke was "as racist as they come" and that it wasn't even remotely funny.
I wanted to applaud. Since I was eavesdropping, I refrained. heh.
***** As for the sketchbook, I think I'll draw a grave robber at night, with a shovel and a lantern, beckoning you to join him. That fits the theme pretty well, no?