When You are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris

I've never read humorist type books before and I was a little surprise to laugh to myself at points in this book. I think "The Understudy" narrative in this book was the funniest and probably one of the only few bits of reading by a professional writer that I felt fully captivated by for the sake of humor. The narrative essay is an interesting form in that you think the piece is just going on and if it did just go on tangents it would be entertaining in itself but I was surprised to find pieces tie back in with the beginning again. The ending of the "The smoking Section" an extended narrative of sorts about quitting smoking did this trick in that you think it goes on a 2 page tangent about throwing trash away but winds up again for an instant in the very end on Sedaris talking about throwing away a cigarette and how he couldn't do it in that not he was afraid of the germs but afraid of the feeling he would get of holding one. I remember one of these tie backs felt a little forced and I always think if they are necessary to perhaps to provide a pithy punch line at the end like a cherry on top or to actually get his last final thought in.
The amount of detail Sedaris uses in his narratives is great. It was interesting to hear how he did it in his book in that he carried a note pad everywhere then transcribed it to his journal and mentioned basically that his narratives are like really cleaned up journal entries. His last journal was interesting in that he included short staccato notes like they were from a notepad and journal entries. It felt really personal and yet there was this playful type organization that was fun to think about in that the shorter more informal parts blended well with the longer more narrative like parts. The whole chapter revolved around his quitting smoking but he told it from a day to day basis and in two different countries. I was confused if the sole purpose of going to Japan was to quit smoking and for how long he stayed there but the whole chapter was great to get just how much of his life ran like a body around a spine of tangents, his daily actions, to replace smoking with something else. I'm also currently trying to kick a habit of my own and could relate to some of the pains.
It was also interesting to focus the title of this book about an instance in the last chapter. It makes me wonder if there was a theme running through the whole book. When I was done reading a chapter and there was a sort of reconnecting with the beginning it made me wonder if I could go back and reread it with the perspective brought on in the end. It also makes me wonder if he actually did try to tie the whole book around this theme of quitting and smoking and if the other stories he told would fall more into place with the perspective of his last narrative. Just being able to hold this book in my hands is kind of satisfying looking at the cover and title as symbols a large chunk of his lifetime that he was feeling could be worked through and looks nicely packaged and organized in a way, Knowing inside it contains a ginormous amount of note taking he did on a daily basis.

Why do I like the Zodiac?

I think my dabbling with the Chinese zodiac stems from a sort of embedded fascination with identity from childhood. In the 90s all the shows I liked were at least Asian inspired and had some sort of team as their main protagonists: power rangers, TMNT, Pokemon, DBZ. It’s this fascination with some sort of assigned color or animal as in Power rangers or TMNT or some elemental power these animals use to topple another as in Pokemon- their ability was their purpose. Like in these shows the animals in the zodiac represents a sort of natural ability to act a certain way a personality. When it comes to shows like X-Men the characters, although wearing the same suits and on the same team, seam too individualistic and random to be with one another. Their powers seem more accidental and they act on their own accord more so than in say something like Power Rangers. It’s that there’s some sort of symmetry and sameness of the multiple characters that intrigues me in Asian shows like Pokemon or DBZ more than the west. In looking at the animals in the zodiac it's interesting to think that there is some sort of sameness and symmetry to these twelve different animals they're perhaps like colors on a color palette- a personality palette. Like a color palette you have colors that lead into one another blue into green or snake into horse, or opposites like red and green or sheep and ox two rival animals who's personalities are said to clash. I remember when I was probably ten playing with markers and pretending they were power rangers and wishing there was a purple, orange and silver ranger.
There is also a sort of autistic thing that is fulfilled when I find out zodiac stuff. I can tell a year's animal and element by looking at it, I can tell the animal months, the element assigned to the months, I’ll probably be able to tell someone off hand the animal assigned to a specific hour by the time I’m done fiddling around. The zodiac also offers a continual thing I can find coincidences with when procrastinating or just curious to test its accuracy on my family, friends, or celebrities. When I look at actors I can tell their animal year and element by looking at their date of birth. Embarrassingly enough I sometimes use celebrities as a testing ground for the zodiac's unfailing accuracy. I wonder why Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt are both rabbits but 12 years apart. For the sake of the zodiac I'm not above investigating Megan Fox's potential for proving the zodiac's accuracy in that Megan fox is a tiger and was married to her former hubby Brian Austin Green an ox. Ox’s and tigers are said to always attract at first but never get along in the end they are both now separated. Another random fact is that Willow Smith creator of the smash hit "Whip my Hair" specifically mentions Jessie J and Rihanna as inspirations for her music. What they all have in common is that they are all dragons. I look at these things when I’m procrastinating along with my music searching and video game list making, I try to look for coincidences with the zodiac in hopes to find something interesting.

Zodiac observer

I guess I’m one of those people who are interested in these sorts of things like some people are into conspiracy theories but for me it’s the Chinese zodiac. I can't say that I outright believe it but I can say that I've observed enough zodiac coincidences to convince me to keep me interested and look for more. I'm not a follower I'm an observer. It's a habit and a hobby. It started for me sometime last year but can’t exactly remember when. To think that an entire year has a sort of trend or thematic elements associated with a certain animal and that year builds the tracks for a new trend is fascinating. Though the zodiac is associated with animals I think that the animals embody a sort of inspiration for whatever it is that completes that cycle. I think the animals are cosmetic emblems associated with that year. There is also an elemental cycle that runs through the zodiac as well one that changes every two years. All in all the cycle takes 60 years for it to return to a year that has the same element and the same animal. Every animal has an opposite or an enemy according to Wikipedia every thirty years the opposite animal of the same element occurs which goes along with the sort of cultural cycle.
Outright I don’t believe that every personality trait of every human being fits exactly into a cookie cutter zodiac description you find on some BS website predicts a sort of box for every person and year to fall into. I think though it’s pretty accurate for the most part in laying out the personalities of my friends and family. The Zodiac personality descriptions are somewhat vague I agree. Yes. Do I believe that everyone born in a certain year acts exactly the same way? No. But the zodiac I think is interesting in that it in itself is complete system of change. I also think that perhaps that although the zodiac doesn’t account for all the personality types of but perhaps there’s a general template for people born in a year in that they live through cultural events and a certain cultural conditions that if left to there own devices will give you a generic and typical specimen born from that year. Maybe it’s the way the media changes that influences personality types to be formed and change from one trend to another. It would be interesting to know how the zodiac came to be and if there were any previous pre-zodiac archetype that it drew from. I think that it works like any good system does in that it has a constant loop of cause and effect from one animal to another and somehow it has gotten all the timing just right. There aren’t many people who are interested in the zodiac like me so maybe I’m one person in however many hundreds, thousands, millions, that the zodiac does lay out a sort of likeness to my personality and my family, or maybe I’m just gullible.

Over-Larking

These two stories about my little sister Lark come from 2^nd hand experience in one instance and as 1^st hand experience in the other. Naturally as the reader you don’t have to believe either. In many ways for my sister our family it’s kind of hard to believe ourselves what has happened to her over the course of her life. The first story happened on some unknown date when my ten or so year old sister was at her friend Shayna’s house across the street with a jar of change during a lightning storm. She decided to run back to our house carrying a metal jar of change and according to Lark tripped over the jar of change while avoiding a lightning bolt that struck about 2-3 feet in front of her. If she hadn’t tripped she would’ve been struck. How is this possible? This is Lark. The second story happened on Sunday July fourth of 2010 during a military band concert at Wolf Trap. Our family is peacefully enjoying a bombastic performance when Lark is bitten by a tick. “Mom, I got a tick on me.” “Okay, um I don’t have any tweezers on me sorry, just try to flick it off.” “Mom what are the chances of getting lime disease?” My older brother: “Like 1 in 100,000.” My mom: “You’ll be fine Lark.” I specifically remember laughing inside while thinking this is Lark we’re talking about. Lark got Lyme disease and according to the American Lyme Disease Association there was about a 1 in 10,000 chance in Virginia of getting Lyme disease in 2008 which was probably around the same chance in 2010. In the ensuing months Lark got a rash, started feeling aches in her joints, felt tired and found it difficult to concentrate in school. She asked to be homeschooled for the rest of the year in order to keep from falling further behind and to study in a more comfortable environment.  Lark’s medication took a toll on her as she became more and more tired in the increasing dosage as fall wore into winter.

                Five facts, first my family comes standard with eight very dependant yet oddly proud individuals.  Second, bad fortune comes to people who handle it badly and it comes to people who handle it well.  Third, Lark currently has eighty-one allergies, fourth has Lyme disease and fifth has scoliosis.  Lark came into this world with a heart murmur and for weeks my parents worried about her chances of survival. Today at sixteen years old her heart not only works but she has at least twenty swimming and soccer trophies in her room. She has a changing diet regiment that she needs to keep track of but constantly asks my mom about in order to keep her allergies in check. She continues to get good grades, mostly A’s and some B’s . Even though she’s homeschooled she’s continued to keep close with her friends. Lark’s allergies include: gluten, eggs, dairy, soy, all vegetables in the nightshade family such as potatoes and tomatoes, and water. Yes water she gets rashes after staying in water for over an hour to include her own sweat. It was torture for her to wear a back brace for her scoliosis during field hockey practice in the summer of 09’. It captured all the sweat and smeared it against her skin and would feel a constant itching during practice on top of the physical exertion. When she took off the brace her skin was a supple red. 

                From my experience Lark has shown little outward signs of complaining or denial to her conditions. On the surface of things and on a day to day basis it seems like my family has had a harder time accepting Lark’s conditions than she has. My dad for instance being self conscious about his weight gain, and being in his early fifties is wary about everyone eating the same thing and if possible in the same amounts at the dinner table as not to feel like he’s getting to lazy. Typical mid-life crisis reaction. Lark most often comes to the table with specific foods she can eat for that day’s rotation and on occasion having already eaten those foods and brings a snack just to eat something with everyone. A good dinner happens when my dad remembers she has eighty-one allergies and says nothing about it. Granted it’s not all spite against Lark in that my dad sometimes makes my mom angry while slapping her with one more scoop of tater-tots to try and close the gap between his and her meal size.  There have been discussions about whether Lark was merely overreacting to certain sensations and thought she had allergies. This to our family was not out of the range for consideration in that Lark does at times overreact. One evening while Lark was about nine years old playing with my other two sisters Annalee and Mary Alice, Annalee got the idea to pretend that she had some sort of heart spasm and keeled over to play dead. Lark fell for it very hard, too hard to the point when Annalee opened her eyes and screamed “gotcha!” Lark went into some sort of panic attack. When they got home Lark was on the bed breathing and moaning incessantly that she was going to die. My brother Isaac and my sister where both by her side telling her she was overreacting and had to calm down. It was probably over half an hour when Lark then started chanting “I want to go the hospital, I want to go the hospital” We as her siblings could do nothing but look at her and worry if she really did need to go at that point. So my seventeen year old self called 911 and told them my sister was hyperventilating. My mom and dad strolled around the corner from their walk to see an ambulance and a fire-truck in front of our house. They ran through the front door to a small child being calmed down by three large firemen and three low eyed and slightly skeptical siblings sitting on the couch in the next room. “Wow Lark I really must’ve scared you.” 

Lark also tends to over-laugh to the point where she draws attention to herself regardless if she wants it or not. She is over-laughing because no one is laughing as hard as she is at the thing she is laughing about. The reasons vary from her friend saying butter-knife in a funny way to…most of the times I have no idea what she’s laughing about. So at least I sit there wondering if this is some sort of a ploy to receive attention in a family of six children at the dinner table or if she really is this helpless. In our family we’re all proud in our own ways. I believe in every family  there is a certain social real estate were every sibling must stake their share and build as high as they can without overlapping on their siblings property. Having siblings in a way can be difficult in that you don’t want to be copied, followed, teased, or feel like you’re just an extension of your brother or sister.  And In a family with six kids this is sort of exacerbated in that you got to be your person or else you’re a copycat. So in the beginning of Lark’s Allergies it was normal to hear that she was allergic to just eggs, but it became harder as another allergy came on top of another. Lark is now allergic to potatoes and tomatoes, oh and just now she is allergic to soy too, and newsflash she is now allergic to water. It came on as a challenge to us in that no one else in our family or immediate family was even close to having as many allergies as lark did. But as the months wore on it was becoming apparent that for whatever ounce of annoyance it caused to our family it weighed a pound to Lark. Every comment about Lark perhaps overreacting or faking her allergies left a blank expression on her face at the dinner table while she was eating the most normal food she could in front of us probably her sweat potatoes, rice crackers, ham and green beans.

                I came home one evening last fall when I was in a bad spot myself in school and in other areas. Lark was in the midst of her new homeschooling experience, her major allergies were present, and her Lyme disease medication made it hard for her to stay awake. I was in the living room and saw on her computer a few lines in what must have been random writing but what looked like a journal entry for someone who doesn’t normally keep a journal. Only glancing over a few lines, it was clear that even she didn’t know what was going on or if she was faking it. This was something that hit me hard. As I looked further it was not only us as a family but her own friends that didn’t understand either, not even the doctors fully understood, no one understood. For a sixteen year old just being pulled out of school for a whole year, not being able to eat anything you used to and worst of all not knowing what was going and feeling alienated.   

                As the spring came things changed. It was then the doctors declared that she had eighty-one allergies. She was placed on a on rotary diet to try and confuse Lark’s body somehow into accepting some of her old allergies and it came to a point where I had no idea what she could and couldn’t eat anymore and the thought of even trying to guess daunted me. The things I for sure she could eat on a day to day basis like apples were something she could only eat next Tuesday. What? It was a liver problem according to the doctors and it seemed like these allergies must all somehow be related to one.  At this time Lark’s Lyme disease, after a lot of medicine and drowsy after effects, began to disappear.  She was more energetic.  And during the spring something surprising happened, Lark was able to eat her first and worst allergic food: eggs without reacting. It was an oddly spring like allergy to lose. There have been several signs that treatment is working. She has also had more friends come over as the spring turned into summer. Lark still over-laughs and though and still overreacts but it has been a pleasure to see things get better for her and for us to at-least know that she isn’t over-smiling.   

My Quiet Accident

    Last winter I got in a car accident and I think I wanted to be in it. Maybe there’s a chance that I victimized myself, fell prey to self pity and loathing. And maybe all this self pity loathing creates what the Buddhists call bad Karma. And In certain situations maybe I’ve created that bad way to get my own way out. I hate being followed completely by chance. When I take a turn while driving and someone else takes that same turn, repeat it  several times and you have an accidental stalker, the worst kind because it has all the feelings of being followed but without any justification for fear. It’s like all the anger you feel after someone surprises you except with no surprise and no laughter from the opposite party it’s just this nameless asshole that keeps going.  This dummy driver or force I create in my head experiences no nuances, no discrepancies, it considers nothing.  I’m an odd person in that in my house I hate it when out of pure coincidence I’m being followed down the stairs by my siblings, being waited on while I’m at the fridge, seeing no one in my sister’s room before I walk in mine shout something embarrassing and walk out to see my sister there. Was she there the whole time? Couldn’t they just wait. No tact. The last example technically isn’t following but the same principle applies. How and why do annoying coincidences happen and why can’t I avoid them? When I make lunch for myself why do others all the sudden start making lunch for themselves? Did I remind them to have lunch? Don’t they have their own schedule to keep?  On the flip side you might guess that I hate following others by accident and that I give people a buffer time in between my and their lunches. Why does it annoy me? Because it seems like it happens too often. It’s this principle of coincidence: you remember coincidences but you don’t remember the times when this coincidence didn’t happen. If I find myself in a position when I want control over these coincidences but I can’t I’m in a position of hubris a position when control is impossible . But what if you do and don’t want this coincidence to happen?

    In the winter of last year I was working at a nice frozen custard store that hadn’t paid me since August. So I decided that I needed a new job that had more dignity for someone my age and that would pay me. So I got a job at AB couriers. In my first week of the job I got in an accident. So I worked for a few more weeks using my dad’s car and decided to ask my previous employer for the money he owed me and I bought a 94 Ford Taurus.

    To someone who can’t remember how cars drove back in the 90s how do you gauge how a car drives or feels? You don’t know until you actually sit down in one and drive for an extended period of time. The turning column of this 94 Ford Taurus it felt like I was driving a very large van. When I slammed the car door shut it was like the door pretended to sound louder than it was.  It sounded like it was the door of some giant van. I could feel the car and imagine how it was fastened together back in 1994. They didn’t know the new age short cuts of the 2000’s so they thought they had to build an actual car. You know a car, car like the one a four year old would draw. So they wound up building something that felt much larger: a car archetype for cars today to get smaller from.  You would think feeling like driving something that felt huge would feel more comforting no it felt like I was driving a false sense of security.  The bigger they are the harder they fall.  The car’s smell reminded me of three things: like it had been breathed in a lot, a small snot bubble coming out of a sick person with a winter cold, and that I was sitting on someone’s lap. Yes that eerie feeling that you’re sitting on someone’s crotch like there’s a shark in the nice warm water to keep you treading for life.  This car was a mystery to me after noises started creeping in while driving, smells got worse and feelings of fear, self-victimization and pity flourished in my chest. I bought this car on craigslist and it’s previous owner or however he was affiliated with had apparently put fake inspection stickers on the front after a nice late delivery night after being pulled over by a police officer. The man was nice yet very disgruntled when helping me buy the plates and register the vehicle at the DMV. He had called one of the secretaries “incompetent”, and that it’s “no wonder they only get paid $10 an hour.” His own car was a trashcan and smelled like smoke and claimed to be a car salesman and that he was opening a shop in West Virginia.   

    So I was driving a 94 Ford Taurus that had increasingly scared me for a courier job that I thought might kill me. Maybe that’s the self victimization talking but I when I did decide every night to deliver these boxes I liked to follow through with my decision. These were medical supplies I was delivering and my employers needed someone, anyone to deliver them on time. The winter is AB Couriers busiest season and they were struggling to keep themselves organized let alone it’s delivery people.

    If this job was unorganized and stressful then I exacerbated that un-organization even further through my incompetence.  There was one night when I delivered a package to a hospital in Richmond in starting out in Chantilly when a third of the way back I got a call that it was the wrong address so I drove an hour back got what I thought were simple directions to a house but spent over 2 hours driving past the same street.  I came back at about 2:30 and I was scheduled to come back at about 10. I forget where but I had to deliver a package at close to midnight to residents who were asleep. I sometimes couldn’t tell if I was just bad at getting to these places on time or if these routes were impossible.  AB Couriers had a way about them that was unusual though in accepting even my incompetence as almost part of the job. Like they were used to hiring people as bad as I was. My supervisor Allen had an inflection in his voice when you called in to report a time. He didn’t wait to hear what you had to say he said his name like you already had bad news. He said it like he was about to be punished for something he didn’t do.  One time the accident didn’t even happen on the road. Did I mention I’m accident prone? I couldn’t even get myself off the lot one time in getting the wrong boxes three times each time I had driven out to the main road and realized that I had gotten the wrong ones. When I finally picked up the right ones and had my schedule adjusted for the time lost I was walking out of the warehouse when I tripped down the stairs in front of my supervisor Allen ripping my pants at the knee. I had been through so much in this job it was like I was involuntarily trying to provoke sympathy from him.  Allen supervisor asked if I was okay when I tried to get back in my car the inside of the car door was totally disconnected so I had to slam the door shut in order to close the inside part back in. So not only was I late for my delivery I showed up late with ripped pants. Strange.  During the job I had also adopted a pee cup that sometimes might’ve spilled over a little bit on my pants or I might aim a little off getting a lot on my pants.

    When I look back on all that happened in AB Couriers it seems like a blur but my mind goes to one night in particular that not even Allen would accept as his fault.

    Giant apartment buildings seem much less like dark labyrinths when the power is on. Every decision had a lag time in that snow-filled parking lot. Every decision that night during thunder-snow* seemed like it could blow up in my face for hours and I would go through a cycle of denial: first anger at having to deliver that night, second a temporary acceptance of my situation, then third a sort of premature laughter someone would laugh if they were only half way done falling down the stairs. The laughter was ultimately frustrating. This laughter was the epitome of my experience at AB Couriers it was always premature I was always late. I was always doing something stupid. I was on a schedule yet the delivery was due by 8:30 and it was now almost 12:30AM. It was a weird mixture in that everything I did seemed pointless almost hypnotic and yet it had everything to do with getting home and getting this person their medical supplies.  Somewhere inside one of these buildings someone is possibly there awake and awaiting their new patient paperwork. If was to be stranded here than I would need to ask someone’s help at 12:40am, no, not me the delivery guy should be spared from that. I had one more delivery after this.  I made a turn to try and see one of the building numbers in front of the pick up drop off zone and turns out I was following  a freshly made plow  trail and patiently waited for the plow to lead out into the main road around the lot.  I had I flashed my phone, it was now 1:00am when I finally parked in front of the right one. I hit my emergency lights and double checked my list. I then walked into this dark ornate dungeon armed with a box and my phone to try and find my way up to this patient’s room in. A few people where still trudging into their own building this late at night and led me down the wrong corridor.  I made it up to the patient’s room with as much paperwork he could have possibly filled out for our company, a new patient packet. It was like we were both sleep walking and he was as tepid and compliant as I was in asking him to sign here and then here. It was 1:20am and he kindly thanked me when I left the room. It was that moment when I felt a little different. All of this frustration did have a purpose.I turned on the radio as I was leaving for my next delivery and heard a late night talk show as people were calling in. They were asking about people who helped during this storm and what their experience was. Someone called in a voice almost happy but not about helping but about the uselessness of helping: “There is one thing for sure that If you try and help someone tonight you’ll get screwed” he laughs. “You try and be friendly and feel good about helping but no you will ultimately get screwed.” He tells about trying to shove a car out of a snow pile for three hours and stepping into a pothole of ice-water up past his knees. He abandoned the car along with the owner for the night “When I stepped in my car I took off my pants. I turned on the floor heat and warmed up my legs as I drove home” he told the host sounding quite satisfied.  I remember telling myself I would’ve helped someone if I wasn’t doing this job. It was like this job kept me from even then doing what I really wanted to do. So when I drove home after Thunder-snow I could feel something groaning under my car. It was a little after 3am when I finally arrived. I had started at about four the day before. My manager had one more delivery when I called him at about 3:10 in returning boxes that didn’t get shipped.  The next day at around 6pm abandoned cars still were still on the side of the road and a bruised purple sky made 66 look like a graveyard.  I was tired and thankful school was at least cancelled for that day but my job wasn’t cancelled.

    My car scared me after Thunder-snow. I told AB Couriers that I was quitting by the end of that week. I was ironically on my way to get the Taurus inspected and to see the people who gave it a fake inspection sticker if it was even going to be drivable for that long when I got into my second accident.  It happened the exact moment I was looking for the auto-shop too. An entire six months worth of work at the custard place disappeared. The car was totaled and it was my fault. It was odd at this point, I couldn’t help feel like I was being protected from something even worse happening by getting in this accident. Maybe that’s what it took from me to see how stupid I was acting. Maybe that’s the nature of an accident is that they are a long time in the making and you don’t remember all the times you didn’t get in one. This was perhaps not an accident but a life saving (car destroying) coincidence.

*Thunder-snow  got its name from the unusual thunder that had struck that night in that it’s almost impossible for thunder to happen in the snow because the ground is too cold. There’s less than one tenth of a percent chance that thunder could have occurred that night . Not only this but it happened at exactly the wrong time causing the DC metro area commutes that were probably ten times their length.

Kate

“I’ve never had tater tots before” Kate said in a tiny voice.

Mary Alice my gangly thirteen year old sister quoted a line from Napoleon Dynamite in which my 20 year old brother Isaac promptly corrected.  Mary Alice stood with her shoulders stooped slightly forward. She’s shot up at least 3 inches since last summer. It’s odd seeing her quote a movie older than usual. The quote is hopefully a blip.      

“I’ve never seen that movie” Kate said even smaller, her childlike voice seems to be dwarfed by her body like there’s an invisible little girl speaking behind her.

I come in the dining room and see my sister’s friend Kate.  At age 15 and six feet tall with about 2 inches on me I how you say try and remember how to forget my envy.  Everyone sits down. My sister Lark,16, is about 5’5’’ with huge eyes and probably enough spunk to fill up Kate’s body.   Mary Alice my other taller sister has a 13 year old friend at about 6’1’’ but with a slight base in her voice and a sort of rambunctious assertiveness that makes sense for someone her size and, age. My younger brother Isaac stands at 6’3’’ and I 5’10’.

“You’ll have to learn that about 60% of what we say you can’t take seriously” said Isaac.

“Okay” said Kate

“You probably can’t even take that seriously” my dad said, (6’1’’).

“okay”.

“You don’t have to take everything we say seriously” said Isaac with gusto.

“You don’t even have to listen if you don’t want to.” I said

“Don’t worry Kate I’ll come over one day and teach you how to joke and make fun of people and stuff.”  Isaac offered in kind jest.

“Really, that would be awesome?!”

“Don’t worry I’m teaching her everything I know” Lark said

“Lark you teaching Kate how to not be gullible is like dad teaching me….” Isaac sits back “It’s like dad teaching me who’s a good rapper and who isn’t: ‘Oh Lil Wayne is the best blu brr brr’” He said in a grubby voice.

 “Lark you had to fall and trip just to avoid being hit by lightning.” This reference of Isaac’s is a true story and one that is so bazaar to even reference at all let alone try and link to Lark’s gullibility that it put Kate’s gullibility out of context. Lark has a certain free spirit that makes it possible for unfortunate events and people to take advantage of her. Kate sat eating the tots she’s never had before.

“Kate I bet you the word gold isn’t on the ceiling” Lark said. Kate ate and kept silent. This is the third time Kate’s eaten over and surprises me that she keeps coming.

“Sorry we have such weird conversations Kate” dad said.

“Yeah we pretty much don’t stop talking” said Mary Alice.

“It’s okay, I’ve eaten over at Carsyn’s house and they never talk” Kate looks at Lark. “Oh Carsyn” Lark said.

“At Anne’s house all they talk about is shopping and school.”

I look over at my mom who was mostly silent throughout the dinner but usually gives more than her fair share of laughs. We start clearing off the table and Lark tells Mary Alice to stand up straight “Yeah Mary Alice” said Kate.  

Short Shins

      Shins, it seems you’ll always find a model with long shins.  Maybe you could make it in the modeling business with just an interesting face and really long shins. I’m not an anatomist or a trainer but it seems basketball players get the torque to jump from their shin length. Just picturing their long shins effortlessly absorbing and displacing energy to jump and change direction.  We can all be judgmental about our body parts. I’ve pieced together enough evidence over the years though to convince myself that maybe I do have short shins . I'll just say this has been recently that this term 'short shins' has bubbled up in my mind. I'll also say that in varying shin outcomes some have long and toned basketball and I have cabbage patch. Maybe I'm being too harsh. I have no distinction between my freshly sown knee dimples and my baby stumps.  Also don't think I came up with the cabbage patch kids shins term either while typing this that like the term 'short shins' term has trickled into my mind over the years through my observation as well. I like my shins well enough. I think there’s nothing wrong with them but unfortunately some shins are less cabbage patch like than others.

      Anyway, I've come to the conclusion I have short shins through several ways.  While looking in the mirror I've noticed wearing shorts above the knees makes my shins look small in comparison to them and wearing them below the knees makes my shorts look too long. I don't like having my picture taken for the simple fact that somehow through the mirror I have more control over what I see. I can remember three pictures now where I have short shins. One I was at scout camp in a hot muggy Florida afternoon in 2005 when I had succumb to the folly of wearing big shorts making them look even smaller than usual. Another in 2008 also taken outdoors I've spotted my short shins again this time in my shorter shorts. There's something about the outdoors that gives pictures the added objectivity. The disorienting natural elements can melt away any false pretenses a nice indoor mirror can give you over the years. Maybe to see your true self you need to look at a mirror outside, for many hours. Pictures are a nice objective portrayal to take into account especially outdoor pictures when making claims such as saying you have short shins. I've also taken into account a baby picture. It was me standing on my tippy toes trying to reach something. The strange thing was my shins looked small to me even for a baby. Proportionally babies heads are much larger as a child than an adult but in this picture there was enough room in my head to have fit both shins many times over. There's something about my shins that leave me hanging like my baby picture they just don't quite meet my expectations like I have to work extra hard to get the basketball shin results and reach whatever it was I was reaching for. Like when I running I feel more pressure in the muscles in front of my shins to lift off then anywhere else and I have to try and shift the work load to my thighs. When I sit down sometimes I tippy toe for me to feel like I have some contact with the floor even though they do make full contact...most of the time. While sitting down if I try to prop my legs on my knees I feel an uncomfortable strain on my hips. Maybe this is due to shin length maybe I just don't have flexible hips though I wish I could cross my legs in that style. I said wish. My shins are great shins. They get me where I need to be. They also don't look like cabbage patch shins. They are short though, and hopefully not as short as I think they are...most of the time.