Betty toils behind the counter at my local lumberyard. She is short and slim, has brown hair and a childlike Betty Boop sounding voice, which is odd coming from a woman who must be in her mid-forties. Her voice makes me want to go home and watch cartoons. <\/p>\n
I placed a quart of ceiling paint on the counter.<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acAnything else you need?\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acNo, that\u00c3\u00ads it. And I see you are bundled up again.\u00c3\u00ae I looked around and she was the only one wearing more than a long sleeved shirt. Even teardrop-shaped Al who often wears sweaters sported only pin stripes. <\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acNo blood.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acNo what?\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acNo blood. I am always cold and growing up my Swedish grandparents told me I didn\u00c3\u00adt have enough blood.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acAnd your parents… ?\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acMy mother died when I was four and my father was no good. I plopped into my grandparents’ lives when I was four and they were about fifty.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acI lived next to a couple who raised their two granddaughters after the girls’ parents were killed in an auto accident. The grandmother lived forever, but not so for the grandfather.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acMine lived into their eighties and they died a month apart.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00abThat must have been awful. I mean, they were your parents,really.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acIt was and they were. I was in my thirties then.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
Betty turned away to retrieve my printed sales receipt. I could see another salesman, David, who could play a perfect mall Santa Claus, sitting behind his desk, listening. Betty returned.<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acAnd they thought you needed more blood?\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acI was hungry all the time. I\u00c3\u00add eat all day and my growling stomach would wake me at night for another meal. And I couldn\u00c3\u00adt stay warm. When they cooked a roast beef they would pour the blood and the fat from the bottom of the pan into a glass and make me drink it.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acThat sounds delicious.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acIt was terrible, especially the fat. I drank it from nine until about twelve, but as a teenager, they couldn\u00c3\u00adt make me drink it.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acIt\u00c3\u00ads funny, isn\u00c3\u00adt it? The stuff that gets handed down. In extreme climates like the arctic that fat would be good for you.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acNow I just wear a sweater.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
Today’s Art<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Betty toils behind the counter at my local lumberyard. She is short and slim, has brown hair and a childlike Betty Boop sounding voice, which is odd coming from a woman who must be in her mid-forties. Her voice makes … Continue reading