Some kids have blankies. Others have binkies. Yet others have their thumbs. And still others have a favorite stuffed animal. A lovey. A snugglie. My daughter has Purple Jacket. Not "a" purple jacket. Not "the" purple jacket. She has "Purple Jacket." The amazing thing about Purple Jacket is that he so so much more than a jacket. Oh yes. He. Purple Jacket is a "he." Purple Jacket is my daughter's friend, snugglie, partner in crime, and primary source of comfort...absolutely necessary for bedtime for close to two years now and also for anytime that we are just hanging out. We used let my daughter wear Purple Jacket other places, but now he stays at home because if he were to be lost.... Life. As. We Know. It. Would. Be. Over. Despite having to stay at home, Purple Jacket apparently leads quite an active life. A typical morning conversation with my daughter... ME: How's Purple Jacket this morning? ESME ...
OK, I admit it...I've really poo- poo'd "The Biggest Loser" for a long time. But, then again, I generally poo-poo reality TV... I'm generally not a fan of reality TV because I find so many of the shows to be down right mean-spirited (with one or two notable exceptions..."Project Runway" & "What Not to Wear") and I usually avoid them, but tonight I'm flipping through the channels and I land on TBL . I'm not quite sure what makes me stay, but I get sucked in. All of the contestants in tonight's episode have been sent home from "The Ranch" for a week to give them an opportunity to spend time with the families that they've been missing for two months. And also - of course- to see how they'll do back in Reality Land. Will their old bad eating/self-destructive behaviors rear their ugly heads? During their "vacations" the contestants are all expected to eat well and to exercise. The TBL produ...
She is in line in front of me at the Dunkin Donuts. It isn't that she has a bad odor drawing my attention to her because she doesn't have one, which is surprising. It is her oddness. The way she holds her arms away from her sides, hands dangling, and sways ever so slightly. It's the short brown obviously unwashed hair standing straight up in the back with large flakes of dandruff embedded in it. It's the droopy, dirty, strapless sundress and the dirty white flip flops that make me look at her more closely. Her tan feet are filthy with long, sharp looking toenails that have not seen a clipper in many, many months. I notice that her long, sharp looking finger nails are dirty as well. When her arms are not held away from her sides she plucks and plucks at the skirt of her dress. I'm guessing that she is somewhere in her early fifties, although it's hard to tell. Her face, except for her rapidly blinking eyes, is slack and immobile. The young girl behind the c...
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