The Definition of You

Cancer walked me through 2 surgeries and 3 radioactive iodine treatments.  It grabbed my head and forced me to look at death and ergo to look at life.  In 2011 I physically changed my life by moving to Florida from Maryland.  In 2014 I am making internal changes.

As we all know, my mother is 79 and this coming January she will be 80.  She has talked about death and heaven and what do I believe?  We've had this conversation a number of times and I say the same thing to her each time.  We are a soul, or spirit.  We need our physical body in order to live in this plain.  When our physical body dies, we move from this plain to another one and we continue on because we are not our bodies.

I was at Petco this morning picking up canned food for everybody - Senator, Trixie, and Poppy.  Because Poppy has food allergies, I have to buy him the expensive brands that don't have grains and a lot of ingredients.  Senator and Trixie think the cheaper the food the better it tastes but I am careful about their diets, too.  By the time I get in line to pay I have about had it with the whole shopping process.  Even though I have breasts and a uterus I don't like to shop.  I got to the only register open and I am happy that I am next in line until I see the cashier is in the middle of some kind of refund/rebate/difficult customer process and she is working methodically but feverishly as the line behind me grows.  I put on my Zen cap and decided that I would remain calm.  My getting irritated was not going to change what was happening.  It would only make things worse.

When I am forced into a situation like that, I look around for things to occupy my thoughts.  I realize that the man in front of me with his hands on the cart was huge.  He was possibly 6 1/2 feet tall and his biceps were the size of my thighs.  His skin was taught and I could see where it had to stretch around the huge muscles.  His back was broad and he had stubble on his legs from when he last shaved them.  He was obviously a body builder.  I looked at his hair and I saw a lot of grey.  He wasn't a kid and it was evident he had been working on his physique for some time.  A woman walked in the "out" door and stood in front of the cart.  She was maybe in her early 40s and she was with him.  She looked intensely at his face as she scanned it for queues.  I could see her eyes take him in and calculate his mood.  I wondered if his size and build made her feel protected or if it intimidated her.  I wondered if I could be with a man that looked like that and I decided I couldn't.

He created his appearance to communicate something.  He was his own artwork.  He was better than Michelangelo's David because he was not a statue made of stone.  He was man.

The only part of his face I saw was his profile when he looked at the cashier.  Otherwise he was looking straight ahead.  When it finally came to pay, both he and the woman reached for their respective wallets.  His was a money clip and even though he pulled money from it it was like he was moving in slow motion.  He was actually waiting for her to step in and pay, and she did.  It made me wonder about him some more.

No matter what he does to his body it is his soul, his spirit, that ultimately defines him.  What he does with his life, who he has touched, how he as loved, and if he has helped or hurt - these are the things that matter.  I am asking you to look beyond the body and see the person that inhabits it.

It's the law

One night last week, after working all day, driving an hour to get home, feeding the critters, and walking the dog, I ventured back out of the house to make a Publix run.  It is a short drive and I managed to find a most excellent parking spot.  After I got out of the car and started walking to the store entrance, I was nearly shoulder to shoulder with a member of law enforcement.  He confidently and with an air of grandiose ego law enforcement obnoxiousness moved ahead of me.  My immediate reaction was my gut clenching with annoyance but then I shot his back with a quick once over.

His head was a buzz cut and his uniform was dark green.   He looked surprising old to still be on the streets and not doing desk work.  Maybe he just isn't that good and never got promoted.

Sitting low on his waist he had on his super hero belt with all of its interesting and deadly gadgets intact. I bypassed his ass.  I was just not interested.  Then I saw his shoes.  What the heck?!  They were so shiny and perfect in their patent leather awesomeness!  Light rays from the Publix signage bounced off of them.  How does a cop, or sheriff's office deputy, or whatever manage to keep his shoes so clean?  Did he not have to run down any bad guys?  Did he not have to ummm....do his JOB.....and in the process get his shoes dirty?

The Publix near my house is small.  Instead of visiting and feeling regular sized, one feels like they are a part of a dollhouse.  I'm not sure what they were thinking when they decided to move into the space.  Maybe it was, "Let's find enough space to stock it with half the stuff we normally sell so when people walk the aisles they won't have trouble deciding what to buy because there isn't much stuff."  To make up for the lack of space to put stuff and sell stuff, someone decided to make the entry area unnecessarily large.  (Is this the same as when men buy large trucks?)

So, I'm still behind Mr. Law Enforcement when he stops to pick up a hand basket.  I need a basket too so I stop.  I wait as he chats up the homeless population 4 deep sitting on the long bench against the wall that one must walk by in order to get into the second door which leads the shopper to the inner sanctum of shopping.  As Mr. L. E., officer to you, is talking I am staring at the pile of hand baskets willing him to get started.  He reaches down and lifts up the top basket and I am thinking, "Finally!" but wait!  He lifts up the basket under the top basket, too.  He then lifts in unison the top two baskets and takes the 3rd one down.  What?  WHAT?

Does her really think the 3rd one down is cleaner, newer, better?  Why is the 3rd one down better?  Have the germs had more time to die on it?  Then it dawned on me.  That's why his shoes are so clean.  One word - OCD.  Okay, not one word but one acronym.  Anyway, he's a little spit shine crazy, isn't he?

Now it was my turn to pick up a basket.  I looked in the top one and no garbage was in it so I took it.