The Penny Picker Upper

"Isn't it a nice day?" I say exuberantly to Consuela. We're linked arm in arm and walking through a parkette near my place.

"Iz ok," she says half-distracted. I've told her she can watch an episode of Juan Y Julia while we're walking; but since I wanted someone to talk to, she's only allowed to use one ear bud to listen to it.

Since putting Consuela on a strict Telenovella diet; she's lost a few inches around her mid-line. Her ass no longer sags like a droopy "W", but rather, a big round plumb.

"You're looking good!" I say to Consuela in an effort to bring her back to the conversation; but she continues to ignore me.

"Consuela!" I yell. Her ignoring me wasn't part of the deal. "Pay attention!!"

She looks up, rolls her eyes and says in her whiny voice, "Whaaaaat, Mia? You iz walking and looking at de birdz, and Juan iz telling hiz sister dat her huzband iz really a woman...iz important!" and with that, she goes back to her iPod.

Sigh. Fine. I guess she can watch her stupid drama. I have nature. We've been walking for a while now. The plan is to work up a sweat and increase Consuela's heart rate. I wonder how much plaque she has on her arteries? Poor thing. A diet simply of empanadas and twinkies is not going to cut it.

The trees sway under the blue sky. It's nice here, in this parkette. I like it.

The walk is nice. I needed to get away from my computer and the million voices swirling around in my head. They were beginning to scream at me -- each trying to top the next one in order to monopolize the dialogue that I'm currently working on. It was getting to be a bit much.

So, I told Consuela to grab her iPod, fix her banana clip, and I tossed her some Reebok high tops that I found in her gym bag. We were going for a stroll.

Now I see why this was so popular in the 1800s. Distinguished women strolling along as they gossip and contemplate the extremities of life -- or were they simply doing what I was doing? Clearing their head? I wonder what the stressors would have been back then? Too much soot in the fireplace? Not enough water in the well for a bath? Who knows...

Sometimes I think we're all a little spoiled.

Did they even have toothpaste back then? No wonder they all died in their 3os. Bad oral hygiene is the leading cause of heart disease -- or so I read recently. Which makes sense, because anyone who can't take care of their mouth is certainly gonna have mucky insides. God! Could you imagine how gross it would be to kiss someone back then? I remember a Carny smiled at me once while I was waiting to go on a ride and I was completely grossed out by the amount of plaque in his teeth. So gross. I bet that's what all their teeth looked like back then. Maybe a good looking chick was one that didn't have black cavities on any of her front teeth -- but that's if they didn't pull out her teeth because of the cavities. So maybe, just having teeth (gunky or not) was a sign of beauty? Who knows...

I like walking. There's movement; and it is the antithesis of the stagnancy that staring at a blank page can create sometimes. I read somewhere once a quote that I liked, it simply said: "I love being a writer. It's the paperwork I can't stand."

Anyhow, I thought that was funny.

A writer...why did I choose this again? I couldn't be a gymnast? Or a banker? I had to be a writer. The most neurotic of all professions -- besides Jewish mother-in-law. Sigh.

Speaking of Jewish, I've been doing this really strange...well, strange for me, thing lately. I've been picking up pennies. I like to think that it's God's way of telling me that more money is on it's way. In any case, maybe there's some sort of karmic relevance to respecting money. It shouldn't be on the ground; it should be in your pocket. But I remember hearing jokes as a kid about how you know if someone is Jewish if they pick pennies up off the street...

I don't understand why everyone is such a hater sometimes when it comes to differences. Why can't we all just get along? I mean, wouldn't this world be a much better place if we all --

"MIA! Stop!" Consuela yells at me.

Just then she pulls me back to the curb as a car whizzes by.

"That was close, thanks" I say to her. I guess there are hazards to daydreaming when you go for a stroll.

"You iz should be more careful! Der iz lots of traffic in dis area, ok?" Consuela scolds. She's pretty good at stating the obvious. I look down at the pavement just off the side of the curb and begin to imagine my bloody sprawled body lying there. My dream man would race out of the car -- fall head over heels in love with me as soon as our eyes lock; and then -- then I would die. The most romantic of all deaths. And he would visit my grave every day for the rest of his life; and name his first born daughter Karen.

"Mia, iz you ok?" Consuela looks at me like I'm a crazy person. I'm always sceptical when this happens; because, let's face it: Consuela is missing a few tacos in her Bolivian picnic if you know what I mean.

"Yes!" I snap back at her. "I'm Fiiiiiiii-yeen!"

And with that she goes back to watching her stupid program. This time I look both ways before crossing the road, and in doing so, see a penny. It's a shiny one. You don't see too many of those. I kick it away from the gob of gum that it's beside, and pick it up for good luck.

Sure, it's only a penny. But, if you can't respect one cent -- then how can the universe ever trust you with more?

And with that, we cross the street safely.




Jenifer lopez Jenny From The Block
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