Few Bad Apples

Weekend living solo. I thought it was going to hit me considerably bad. Why? Because for over a year I learned to have company of people who I love next to me for 2-3 days after surpassing 5 days with the good, the bad, the evil, the nice, the ignorant and close minded people from R-town. I succeeded. I learned that to sleep in late is amazing and that to be lazy on Sunday makes my skin  look better. I learned that singing music while cleaning makes cleaning easier, funner and faster.

I also got the chance to be fancy while doing grocery shopping. I went to my local grocery store, to a store that I don't go often but I like the meats, I went to the local farmers market. Accomplishments? Many. Designed a whole list of dishes for the week and some fancy treats for me 

The bad parts of this weekend? Storms. I never experienced 3 days in a row of scattered storms and rumbling thunders like that.  I needed a hug, a word of "everything is going to be ok, Kath" kind of thing. Oh well, its time to grow up and to pretend storms aren't scary. 

This Sunday afternoon I decided to clean in deep the house that protected me from cold, hot, rain, storms and snow for over a year. To do so, I bought serious cleaning materials- a little bit of chemistry fun never hurts. 

But before, I went to a Mexican restaurant- yes, that kind that looks like fast food type of deal. As soon as I entered (and waiting on a long, long line) the sky turned gray and the rain, lighting, thunder, wind and my scare manifested all at the same time. "Great!" I thought. I usually don't eat in the restaurants alone. I like to take food home so I can put my food on a nice plate, have something good to drink and listen to music I like. This time, I was prospectively going to eat with about 30 Roanokers.  Order placed, credit card swiped, receipt given and my sit search and available-space-to-eat screening began. I found a little table designed for two to eat. Also this table was next to another where a woman was eating with her son. Lovely moment. The picture was great, till the moment I decided to sit and unwrap my chicken burrito. She was done with her food, and since she seemed to have good appetite, she decided to take "dessert"...with me (or of me?).

It started by the comment "Oh what's that? Is it a potato? I'm not going to ever eat a burrito" (looking at my burrito, but not looking at me) which actually made me smile because my burrito did looked like a giant Yukon potato. After that, a compendium (or lecture) to her son about immigrants and how "all Mexicans in Roanoke are illegal and that's why they can't take care of their own business"which made me lift my face to the air and ask God "Did I really pick this sit to hear this person talk?". Her comment wouldn't matter to me much, but the fact is that the restaurant wasn't run for any Hispanic, or Mexicans, as this woman thinks we all are. Is it then expected that every McDonald's is only run by White or Black people? Diversity of races in this melting pot is what it should be expected.  And she kept running her mouth talking about the wonderful times she lived as a kid in Roanoke where it was "more country and with less immigrants". 

I ate my burrito at the speed of the wind blowing outside and once I was done with my food, the storm was done scaring me as well. 

I turned to see this woman's face with a sharp look, straight and feeling-less face. She looked me back, stood up and went away. 

That experience made me think about a lot of things and I associated them with food. Apples, for instance. 

I learned that few bad apples are always there in a basket called society. Some of these apples want to contaminate the other ones by transferring mold, fungus and putrid fractions of themselves. Mama apple wanted to put a thought on a teen apple to reject the different. Why? How does that affect her? The trick in this basket is to keep as many healthy apples as possible, so people would appreciate them better and make them very salable.

I just don't understand why this happens. Why? Three little letters that together make such big statement.For two years I'm in a constant pursue to find answers. I think the answer to ignorance is to ignore and the answer to rejection is acceptance- not to them, but to ourselves. 

I'm standing still and happy every day regardless of those occasional bites I get of a bad chosen apple.  But when I get to digest that bad apple, my body feels the effects and it costs a little bit of work to take that bad element out of my body.

Here it is a toast: To you, bad apple. Wishing you a great putrefaction. Signing with great appreciation, a very good shinny and crispy apple.