I don't know whether it's because of uncertainties of global events like the ones today's news cycle brought, or the uncertainty of this Great Depression II that seems permanent, or the personal economic uncertainties in this house. Or some combination of all the above, which is most likely.
(Before our mothers call and text us, we're generally fine. There's nothing new that you aren't already aware of, just more writing on the proverbial wall, this time in a Sharpie marker by Ebenezers who have no concept of how their words and ideas affect others, how what was thrilling for one adventurous child will be a living fucking hell for one living in the structure of Aspergers, and how their actions can reopen childhood scars.)
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|Wonder Woman boots at the Hip Hip class tonight.|
There was a situation this week that makes you question someone's humanity and if they ever had any. The kind that makes you question everything, really. I'm probably not the only one wondering what is going to happen.
We are not superheroes.
The company with the duck commercials came into our conference room and did their job well by making me worried about short-term disability, long-term disability, accidents, cancer, and every disease listed on the exclusions page that I don't think I have but that - who the hell knows? - could be lurking. If I mention sciatica on the blog, does it mean that it is pre-existing?
|Hip Hop class.|
The pedometer on my hip silently moves upward, forward, counting out stepstepstepstepstep as I zumba through 10 minutes of what is for me some of the most intense movement in many a recent year. Betty goes back for another hip hop class, this time standing next to a girl whose moves are liquid confidence. I am watching someone who will be someone, I think. Someone who likely already is and I don't know it.