Bells and Whistles

Let me tell you how conscientious I am. I am a concerned citizen, if you must know. I read the news, I am up-to-date on politics, I pay my taxes, I don’t litter, and I always use my turn signal. In fact, I only cross the street when the little blinking man tells me to, even if everyone else jogs across when there is a gap in traffic.

I’m just that good at being good.

While talking to my mom on the phone, I was smiling with delight and relishing in beautiful memories, completely oblivious to the outside world.

...

Cold gel on my belly, technologically advanced machinery turning on (circa 1980), and voila! There he was, the little cutie!

“He has a skeleton face,” said Husband.

He has such a cute skeleton face, I thought!

And I cried.

And then I saw a perfect little arm flail, like it was swatting away flies (or my liver).

Oh, and those hiccups! So precious!

...

I looked to my left and saw the cars coming.

Oh, I guess I shouldn’t have crossed the street, yet. (giggle)

I was still on Cloud 9, though, and on Cloud 9, you do not jog out of the street; the cars wait for you to glide onto the next cloud.

Ding! Ding!

I looked left again and saw that the light rail train was rapidly progressing and was surprisingly very close to me. (That doesn’t happen every day, people!)

Do you think I hurried out of the way?

(Okay, this time I actually jumped onto the sidewalk. Gosh, I know it’s disappointing, give me a break.)

But I ignored all of the bystanders with their mouths hanging open. You know I did! I even ignored the guy that said something along the lines of, “What was she thinking??”

I’ll tell you what I was thinking, good sir!!

I wasn’t thinking of anything but baby rolls and skeleton faces, little arms and the hiccups.

I was thinking about my Avocado.