Random

On some days, Random feels hope slipping from her grasp and realizes she's exhausted from holding on so tightly, and working so hard. So she lets go, feels the colors rushing out like blood from a wound. Weakened and dizzy, she lays down on her comfy couch and looks inward for a very long time ... imagines a world devoid of color.

Eventually she dozes off, dreams that it is raining in her living room and that she can't find her black umbrella. When she awakens, she trots out to her overgrown garden and considers how long it's been since she spent any time out there, how long it had been since she had dug in the dirt. She approached her once-gorgeous red, yellow and purple flowers that now looked tattered.

A closer examination revealed that killer vines had moved in and were slowly but surely trying to choke the life out of the colorful flowers she once considered her babies. The vines were almost camouflaged. She could imagine how it all went down, as the uninvited guests slithered over the fence and reached down, down, down, getting each day a little closer to the prey eventually moving in, just a little at a time, and wrapping itself around ever so tightly until it seemed the plant's only purpose was to help the evil, greedy, callous killer vine to thrive.

Random knew she must save the vines, and save herself too. She began pulling them out by the roots like a madwoman, grabbing hold of a string of leaves and pulling, pulling, pulling until there came a snap from somewhere. She filled up one big yard waste bin after another, after another ... This went on for the better part of a weekend, until her flowers were finally free of all that had snuck in while no one was looking and was slowly but surely trying to kill them.

Satisfied with her efforts, she unearthed the garden hose, partly buried in the dirt from sheer non-use, and proceeded to water her flowers, watching them sway freely as the spray of the hydration hits them and the water glistens and forms translucent beads on their thirsty little leaves. It was like a little dance of freedom.

Once the plants have had enough water, Random traipses into the house, covered in dirt. She pours a large glass of water, adds lemon, drinks thirstily and steps into a hot, hot shower to wash away the muck. Afterward, she wipes the fog from the mirror above her sink, catches a glimpse of her own face and says "There you are!" and laughs aloud. She brushes her teeth with an electric toothbrush. then slips into her softest flannel pajamas, puts on lipstick, climbs onto her big comfy couch and makes a new to-do list. She then closes her eyes and imagines herself putting little check marks beside each item as she completes the tasks that will bring her closer to unraveling herself from the vines that have crept into her own life.

Then she brews a cup of catnip tea and crawls into bed beside her mean little kitty cat who loves her unconditionally. She looks down at her hands, which are cut and scratched from thorns and flower rescue efforts, and makes a mental note to buy yard gloves and a nice little bag of shrimp for Blackie.

Random is in the rest room at Holland Garden Center, 1035 Southeast 17th Street in Fort Lauderdale. She dropped in to look for gardening gloves, but got caught up looking at all the cool art and secret garden-type hideaways in this location. She's on a wicker shelf in the rest room ... hiding under something. Seek and you shall find.

Stir Crazy

Heide sometimes has trouble sleeping. So occasionally in the middle of the night, while everyone is fast asleep, she goes out and walks for a really, really long time. She never tells anyone she does this because they'd just think she was a little weird ... But Heidi likes her secret walks in the wee hours. The world is a very, very different place at night when all the shops and restaurants are closed ... no people, no laughter, no screaming kids, and hardly ever any cars going by. All she can hear is the sound of her own footsteps and that little voice in her head that says "You know you're not supposed to be doing this." Actually, that might be her mom's voice.

But once the rain stops and all the stores close ... Heide will probably wander around outside ... she'll probably have her little nose pressed up against the glass at Kilwin's, wishing she had a little fudge or ice cream, maybe mint chocolate chip ... she kinda likes walking around really late at night after the rain because then she can skip through the puddles really, really fast .... just like her mom always told her not to do when she was a kid.

But sometimes when it's all said and done, Heide's all wet from the puddle-jumping and feels kinda chilly, and she doesn't wanna walk all the way back home. She kinda wishes that someone nice and totally reliable and trustworthy would give her a ride home, maybe have a nice little cup of herbal tea waiting in the car ... and the car would have those fancy schmantzy little seat warmers that make you feel real happy and not so cold, like someone is giving you a big warm hug. Maybe afterwards, they'd play a board game ... and she'd win. And then she'd hear her mom's little voice in her head going, "Yes, that's what you're supposed to be doing."

If rain can lead to all that ... It's never a bad thing.

Heide is at Stir Crazy at The Shops of Pembroke Gardens ... because it's been raining all day and even though it was still daylight, she got a little Stir Crazy, so she had to go somewhere, and it seemed like a good place to be. She's in the ladies room of Stir Crazy, eavesdropping as usual ... people are saying they like the food, that it's very yummy, and healthy too.

Laney's Limoncello Dream

Now that so many people have lost their jobs, it’s become all-but-forbidden for the Lucky Ones, those still collecting a paycheck, to complain about the fact that they’re now expected to spend most their waking hours working, but for no extra pay. As an added bonus, their offices, stores and factories are basically an episode of Survivor and on any given day they might be voted off the island, which makes it hard for them to sleep in the few hours they get to do so.

Despite all this, they’re supposed to keep on pretending they’re lucky to have jobs, ‘cause they are … they are soooo lucky to be working 60-70 hours, even if they only get paid for 40, cause hey, at least they’re’re not behind in rent or mortgage and at least they haven’t had to go back home to live with their parents … some of them don’t even have moms or dads anymore. But they can’t complain, ‘cause hey, at least they’re not homeless.

Laney liked her job, but just hated working so darned much and sometimes she really did just wanna complain about it ... but she never felt like she could ‘cause everybody just kept telling her how incredibly lucky she was to be working. That’s how it is now. Just keep on working and keep on dealing with it, 'cause you're lucky. Lucky. Lucky Lucky. Shut up. Deal. You're so Lucky.

So yeah, no one complains anymore. Complaining is just boring anyway, because it's not like anyone’s situation is particularly unique … everybody who still has a job in the same boat … not really a boat though, more like a canoe that you have to keep paddling against a current so increasingly strong that it makes one wonder when their arms are finally going to give out and what will become of them when they do. We keep hearing and seeing little indicators that things might get better, that we should all try to hold on, but seriously, are companies every gonna bring back all those people they fired, or will they just keep firing more and paying increasingly less wages or hiring indie contractors so they don’t have to provide any benefits? …. Meanwhile, there are a few less foreclosure signs in the neighborhood now, and the empty storefronts that once housed profitable little businesses are again showing signs of life, including lots of pizzerias … ‘cause even those who can’t afford to go to dinner now … still like to enjoy an occasional slice. We’re all about slices now, ‘cause you gotta take a little break now and then and call up your friend and say, “Hey, ya wanna meet for a slice?”

And a slice is nice, real nice, but Laney sometimes needs more than a slice to get her through the muddle, and one night at her neighborhood restaurant, The Sliceria, she found just the cure.

It was a Tuesday, much like any other Tuesday, except it was sorta special because she and her friend, Lil Bea, had decided to just drop everything they were doing and meet down at The Sliceria for a delicious slice of eggplant pizza around 8 p.m. It was kinda crowded for a Tuesday. In fact, there was only one table free and the hostess just grinned and said, "You guys look tired. You been working hard?"

“Of course,” they said in unison.

"We're lucky," Laney explained, "that we even have jobs."

“Well, you’re in the right place now,” the hostess says, “and you’re just in time. “

Lil Bea got all excited, because Lil Bea loves being on time and secretly loves being rewarded for the politeness that comes so natural to Lil Bea. “We’re just on time, Laney,” Lil Bea said. “I wonder what we’re gonna get?”

“I think they’re gonna try to sell us a time share,” she told Lil Bea.

“I’m kinda in the market for one!” Lil Bea said, laughing.

Minutes after they’d been seated at the only remaining table, the crowd began counting down really loudly …. 59, 58, 57, 56 …. They were all going mad and swirling around and hugging and kissing one another like it was New Year’s Eve or something. Laney and Lil Bea were mesmerized by all the totally unexpected excitement they’d encountered, yet slightly uncomfortable and a little cautious, feeling like they’d walked into the middle of some weird yet joyous cult meeting. But the people didn’t look like cult members. Most were just wearing shorts or jeans and some were in work duds still, like mechanic uniforms with those little name patches on them. Others were wearing business suits and still madly chatting on cell phones about work. When the countdown got to one, someone yelled “Drop!” and the swirling stopped and everyone dropped to the floor in dead silence as though they had fallen into a very deep sleep. Everyone except Laney and Lil Bea, that is, who were still in some kinda shock.

That’s when this really sweet-looking old lady with a big purse and wearing a headscarf and curlers, emerged and looked dead into the eyes of Laney and Lil Bea and said …. “Did you not hear the announcement? I SAID everyone is to drop!!!!”

Laney and Lil Bea looked at each other with wild amusement, shrugged their shoulders and threw themselves to the floor and closed their eyes but each kept opening one of them to look at the other and trying not to laugh real hard. I mean, really, they went for a slice and now they’re on the floor, and they don’t even really know why, but something about the whole thing makes them want to laugh really hard. Both knew they could probably pull off not laughing if they didn’t look at each other … but then the laughter started to ooze out of Laney and then Lil Bea started laughing at her, and the next thing you know, they’re hysterical and others are laughing real hard too.

Then the old lady said, “OK! It’s 8:08 at The Sliceria, and you know what that means. Do the Lemon Drop!!!!”. Everyone jumped up and started dancing about wildly and flailing their arms and laughing really, really hard for about 3 minutes … and then everyone just drifted back to their seats and servers started swirling around and handing out little tiny glasses of what looked like lemonade … and saying happy things like “Bottoms Up!” and “Make Lemons Out of Lemonade!”

Laney and Lil Bea were speechless, which is a rarity, especially for Lil Bea.

Then some character dressed as a giant Lime started playing a cello …. Afterwards, she took a deep breath and said “I guess some of you might be wondering what the hell we’re doing here.”

Lots of laughter ensued. “Truth is,” she says, “We’re just fed up with working all the time. Do ya feel it?” she asked. “Yes!!!!” people shouted loudly. “Then say it!!” she yelled. “Say it!”

People started yelling, “I am FED UP!”

“Louder.”

“FED UP!” they yelled.

“Louder!”

This time Laney and Lil Bea joined in, raising their tiny little Lemonade glasses into the air and yelling: “Fed Up!”

The servers continued bringing around those little tiny glasses of Lemonade … and Laney was loving them. The giant Lime raised her glass, too and said Limonnnnnnn Cellooooooooo. Everyone started chanting “Limon Cello! Limon Cello!” Eventually things quieted down and the ever-popular Lime Lady said “Look, don’t be letting nobody tell you that ya don’t have a right to complain about this hand they’re dealin’ ya, that you’re supposed to just go around feeling lucky for the privilege of doing twice as much work for the same pay. This is your life that’s passing you by and ya know what that is? It’s bullshit. Can ya say it? Yes, we can!!!” Everyone started yelling “Bull shit!!!!”

“This is fun!” Laney told Lil Bea.

Then the Lime’s voice went from assertive to to sorta soothing, and she says “I know, my children, I been there and I lived it, and I know you gotta do what ya gotta do to pay those bills, but you also gotta come together on this and you gotta call it what it is!!!! Don’t let nobody take that away from you. And do the best you can to get out from under it, because y’all know you ain’t just here for a slice. Ya came here ‘cause you need to get out from under it, and you need to come together, and talk and you need to pile those worries outside the door and FREE your mind. I said FREE your mind of the bullshit of those big corporations that have you under their thumb ... ‘cause honey, you might be seeing less for-sale signs and you might be hearing that things are changing, but big old corporations have realized they can treat ya like poo now and that you are gonna put up with it and pretend to feel lucky to do so. Am I right? You all been pretending?”

“Alleluia!” yelled Lil Bea, who leaped from the table hands in air.

“Sit down,” said Laney who was now laughing cause Lil Bea actually had a cushy job and didn’t even have to work unpaid overtime.

“Sorry, got caught up in the moment,” Lil Bea said.

“Go head and tell me I don’t know,” the big green Lime continued. “I was once one of y’all professionals, and now I’m a freaking 53-year-year old lime. But I ain’t given up. I am a lime with a line, and I am fine.

“Yes, yes, yes,” the crowd chanted.

“Yes,” she says, closing her eyes as though she was channeling some kinda higher lemon-lime power. “Yes!”

“Thing is,” she said quietly. “I know you all, deep down inside ya there, are angry, but ya don’t show it often, ‘cause ya don’t know what to do with it. You feel sorry for your bosses, even as they fire your asses one by one, and maybe because they have to fire ya one by one … that’s why they keep ya, my little dears, cause you ain’t angry enough. You gotta express that anger and work it on up the chain. Those bosses you feel sorry for … they ain’t feeling sorry for you … they gotta feel your discontent, they gotta know what they’re doing to ya, and yeah, it’s gonna make 'em feel bad, but how bad do y’all feel doing what ya gotta do now? Shit, they don’t even know.”

There were rumblings among the gathered. “”Ya know” she says, “why we do this at 8:08. Cause we know that you know that ya ain’t got no control. You take 8:08 and you do all that work to turn it upside down and whadda ya got? It’s still 8:08, right? And that’s the whole damn problem. You can work so hard and turn the whole damn thing upside down and in the end, whaddaya got. Same damn 808 ya started with. It’s a bitch, ain’t it? But here it was 8:08 tonight and are ya at work? No? Are ya having fun? Yes. Are ya bonding? Yes. That, my little dears, is what it’s all about. So good on ya for taking a step out from under that BS they been feeding ya. Ya feel me?”

“Limon Aid. Limon Aid!” yelled a man in a mechanic suit with a patch that read Billy. “Love the Limon!” he yelled while throwing back his tiny glass of lemonade.

“I ain’t gonna harp on this no more,” the Big Lime said. “I’m just gonna play my cello and offer you some Limoncello, The Happy Lemonade” and I’m gonna ask you to spread the word, spread the relief, ‘cause I believe in you. Ya hear me? I BELIEVE in you.”

Laney felt like she was at some sorta holy roller convention, but the only one that ever made sense to her in her life. She looked over at Lil Bea, who was doing the infamous eye roll, which made her laugh because she knew that even though she and Lil Bea had mad fun together, they did in some ways live on different planets. But she still loved the trademark eye roll anyway, and pretty much everything about Lil Bea, who really was a worker bee trapped in the body of a person with a cushy job.

Lil Bea, even while pretending to be caught up in the moment, recognized the event as crafty marketing from a liquor company, and it ultimately is, but Laney believes in the dedication of that giant Lime, and knows that lime is working for a living too., and that having to dress as a giant lime at the age of 50-something can’t be easy. But she’s trying to make it work, to use her position for good, to gather the masses to rise up together and yell a big loud resounding “No!” Maybe they can’t change the world … but it’s nice to have a place where people can come and be themselves for awhile and not have to pretend like everything is OK all the time when it clearly is not.

Laney began thinking about how she could carry that into her job too, to incorporate a little of that spirit. She began making a little more room for the limelight … Now on certain nights of the week, she just stops working, lights candles and drinks tiny glasses of Limoncello while listening to songs by The Lemonheads and dreaming of a better life. She finds it easier these days to feel more open to new ideas and to forget about all the struggles everyone is going through.

Then one night, Laney was down at her local supermarket and the cashier and a customer were having a conversation about the state of the economy and all the people in their families who weren’t working now because they’d lost their jobs. So the customer said, “Yeah, I’m driving an ice cream truck to make ends meet.” The cashier responded that her husband was also driving an ice cream truck now. Laney got to thinking about how even in times like these when people had to work two or three jobs, kids and adults are still chasing down ice cream trucks because we all need a little comfort.

Laney got to thinking about a late night Limoncello Sno-Cone truck for adults, so that she could help spread the word of the Lime and to comfort the stress-out and overworked and give people something to look forward to … Instead of that silly ice cream truck music, the Lime-mobile would just play music by The Lemonheads

While her nightly activities don’t get her health insurance or even pay the bills, the late-night venture she dreamed up by candlelight while drinking The Happy Lemonade is more fulfilling than she ever imagined it could be. Mostly it’s made her dream again of the many possibilities life has to offer.

This is how Laney became a full-fledged member of the Church of The Happy Lemonade. Laney calls it the Kool-Aid alternative and when she parks the Lime-mobile in a neighborhood, it becomes a gathering place for the overworked masses in need of Happy Lemonade Sno-cones. Those who gather have begun swapping stories about their lives and talking long after the Happy Lemonade Lady has driven off into the night.

Lemons and limes are driving Laney’s life in a better direction now. Call it inspiration in its purest freshest Lemony form. She considers it a vocation, a calling of sorts … to provide a place where the tired and the hungry and the stressed can slurp up sweet cold confections, and consider ways to eliminate the BS, and make their lives all shiny and new again.

Deep inside, that’s all everyone really wants … for their lives to be shiny and new again.

Laney has been dropped at Carcione's Pizzeria in Southland Shopping Center on State Road 84 in Fort Lauderdale. They serve up a nice little slice and seem to cater to the hard-working masses. Laney is in the restroom, hiding in a box of bleach, trying not to laugh.

For the record, Laney is a made-up name and any resemblance she might bear to someone dressed as a Giant Lime rolling down your street late at night in a Sno-Cone truck that’s blaring Lemonheads is completely coincidental. Besides, everyone knows that Limoncello Sno-cones are completely illegal without proper licensure, and Laney can’t afford all that … so obviously she is NOT driving a Limoncello Sno-Cone Truck. Definitely not.

The truth about scallywags

Coffee had always been one of Ramona’s dearest friends. It had gotten her through many a life crisis, and it helped her to work hard and be more productive.

But Ramona also knew that coffee had become the death of her. She wasn’t sleeping well, and no matter how hard she tried to be diligent about her work and her increasing workload at The Office, she knew her company was a sinking boat and that all she could do was bale out water over and over again. Sure, there were different strategies, so the buckets were thankfully a different color each time, but in the end, she know none of it would matter and that she had to start looking at her life differently. All that coffee she drank just to stay aboard had taken it’s toll healthwise. So she wasn’t surprised on the day her doctor said. “Ramona, you need to get off the coffee.”

Ramona cried, just literally fell apart, right there on the little crinkly paper sheets while wearing her ridiculous looking paper gown.

There’s a reason you’re having heart palpitations and anxiety, her doc said. It’s all that caffeine. Why do you drink so much?”

“Because I think too much,” she says, “and I have to stay awake to finish all the stuff I gotta do. It’s not like life used to be, where at 5 p.m., you just go home and call it a day. And f I lose this job, there’s not another around the corner waiting. The manager down at my neighborhood Quik Stop advertised a clerk job and 200 people applied. So now, even though I’ve worked hard all my life, I’m not sure I could even get a job at my neighborhood Quik Stop, because I’d have to compete with 200 people, and I have bills to pay.”

“Tell me about it,” the doctor says. “I basically work for your insurance company, and as you may know by now, they’re not that generous.”

“Yeah, I do know.”

“Look,” the doc says, “You can still have a cup or two of coffee on weekends, but you gotta seriously cut back. I know your having anxiety about issues beyond your control, but here are medications that can help take the edge off, so you can function, just while you are going through this period. Why don’t we give that a shot and we’ll see ya back here in a few months to discuss the results.”

“I don’t know,” Ramona says. “I hate pills.”

“Alright, well, you could just continue self-medicating with those giant coffees and we would talk further after you keel over at their counter.”

Ramona laughed, but only because she could imagine that actually happening, that somehow it would all unravel down at the coffee shop one day. She accepted some samples of the magical pills and began the drive back to office hell. Along the way, she called her big brother, who knew better than to ever expect a call from his little sister in the middle of the workday.

“What the heck ya doing, scallywag?” he says.

“Did you seriously just call me a scallywag, you eejit?”

“Yeah, I did, he says laughing. “That’s what mom used to call ya … So why ya calling me, scallywag??”

“Cause I just got out of the docs and they gave me anti-depressants.”

“About damn time someone gave you some meds,” he said, laughing.

“Yeah, I know, but I’m not sure I wanna take them,” Ramona said.

“Well,” he says. “Do ya need em? I mean what did they say when they gave em to ya?”

“They said no more coffee, and then when I cried, they said I could have it on weekends. Only.”

Wally laughed really hard at that, but Ramona explained that even though the withdrawals might kill her, she was kinda sorta OK with the coffee thing, since having it every day made it feel not so special anyway, like something she needed rather than just wanted. She was afraid, she told Wally, that the coffee was becoming less of a treat and more of a crutch.

“Whadda ya need a crutch for?” Wally asked. “Can ya not walk?”

“Of course I can walk,” Ramona replied.

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem,” she said through her tears, “is that I don’t know where to go.”

“Ah, I get it. But those pills will help you to figure all that out, right?” he asked. “They must be those ones they advertise on TV, he says, where at first people are holding their head in their hands all slumped over with the weight of the world on their shoulders and then they take the pills and suddenly they’re jumping through the air on a spring day catching Frisbees and throwing their heads back and laughing … while a summer breeze rustles the leaves of a big oak tree and people drink lemonade on front porches. Did they give ya that pill? Huh? Huh? Because I want some of those. I wanna catch Frisbees and drink lemonade too.”

Ramona laughed again, while crying. “Yeah, I think that’s the one,” she says. “I got a buncha samples right here, undoubtedly delivered to my doc’s office by a pharmaceutical rep who took the entire staff to lunch at whatever play place they demanded to be taken to.”

“Probably threw in a big old wide screen TV, too,” Wally said. “So you gonna take the pills?” he asks. “Start catching Frisbees?.”

“Whatever,” Ramona said. “I don’t really care about Frisbee. “I’m just tired of feeling like I’m ready to fall apart.”

“Yeah, you know what really sucks about feeling that way?” he asked. “That you have to eventually do something about it in order to stop feeling that way. But now that they have these pills, you don’t really have to do anything,” he says laughing. “That’s great! You could probably, in fact, go through the rest of your life without ever having to make decisions. That really will free you up, for Frisbee and lemonade and stuff. Maybe this whole thing is a blessing in disguise because once you feel the magic of these pills you could probably just quit your job and devote your life to something meaningful. You could become a pharmaceutical rep. … distributing pills and Frisbees to all who need them, and taking people to lunch … not a bad job if ya think about it. Hey, could you send me some pencils and clip boards and some of that other free stuff you guys always get? …. My little sister, a pharmaceutical rep ….. Wouldn’t mom and dad be proud? Maybe they’ll send you to one of those seminars or continuing education things they organize for doctors in Hawaii, or wherever they hold those things. That’s probably where your doctor learned about these pills. And if she says you should take them, you definitely should, ‘cause she wouldn’t prescribe pills you didn’t need. Just do what she tells ya.”

“Hey, did you take the first pill yet?”

“No.”

“Whatcha waiting for?”

“OK, I’m not taking the damn things,” she said rolling her eyes. “I’m just going to continue instead to feel like total and complete crap. Isn’t that what you’re suggesting I do?”

“Exactly, Wally said. “But remember that every time you cry or get angry or feel frustrated or uncomfortable ... it’s just a growing pain … If you continue to do nothing about the pain, it will become unbearable and you will eventually be forced to do something … that’s how life works. All the unpleasant things that you don’t want to feel right now, are also the very things that bring you closer to making a needed change.

“You are not broken. Frustration and despair are like the indicator lights on your car … they tell you when something is wrong and needs to be fixed. Your indicators are working fine. Maybe you don’t know how to fix everything yet …. But taking pills to mask your feelings is like seeing your check engine light come on and putting black tape over it so you can forget you’re having a problem.”

“By the way, is your engine light still on? Did you get that timing belt yet?” Wally asked.

“No, you said to do it by 70,000 miles,” Ramona replied.

“I did, but here’s a little secret,” Wally revealed. “You don’t have to wait until things break down completely to fix them …. I know you don’t have time to deal with this stuff …. But if you do it now, it will save you lots of time you don’t have later …. It’s kinda like life that way … you can rush through all your stuff till 3 a.m. every morning and keep doing that till ya keel over or your can save yourself from eventual breakdown by taking the time you need right now to think and listen to the voice deep inside you …. The one that goes, what the hell are ya doing, ya little scallywag? are ya in there somewhere?"

Ramona is at the Dunkin Donuts at 1579 S. Federal Highway in Fort Lauderdale ... on a shelf in the ladies room .... unraveling.

No More Reruns

Lucy pretends to listen while Jill rambles on incessantly about her crappy job, her latest no-good boyfriend, her meddling mother, her crazy neighbors and all the drama that constantly swirls around her life ... Lucy tries to muster concern, but sometimes she just gets tired of all the reruns. She realizes that people, much like TV sitcoms and movies, fall into categories. They might be a comedy, or a romance, or in Jill's case, a full-fledged drama but with no real closure. Lucy doesn't know how many times she can keep hearing those same stories over and over again. She's hoping for a new season, or a sequel, in which Jill finally learns from her mistakes, solves her problems and moves on to a place with new stories that aren't so draining.

Meanwhile Lucy is hiding under the sink in the ladies' room at Dough Boys Pizza on Southeast 17th Street in Fort Lauderdale. It's quiet down there, but it's kinda dark and a little dull. She's hoping someone will come and take her away to somewhere new, someplace cheerier, a place where there are no reruns.

Purr-fect Dilemma

Heide met someone she really loved but was afraid to get too close to him for fear he would discover her deepest secret: When she feels really happy and content, she purrs like a cat. She tries real hard not to do that but if she completely relaxes and lets her guard down, it just happens, usually as she is drifting happily off to sleep.

She blames Blackie, who had been sleeping curled up next to her for years. The purring must have somehow rubbed off on her in kinda the same way Blackie took to snoring. But Heide had no idea how to explain this to Joey. Then one Sunday afternoon while lying in a grassy lakeside field after a local hopscotch tournament, she involuntarily succumbed to her overwhelming feeling of content and drifted off and began purring.

When she awoke Joey was looking at her with a silly little grin on his face, and suddenly she realized she must have slipped up and begun purring. But Joey just seemed relieved. "And I thought I was the only person on the planet who purred," he said laughing.

Heidi is in one of the restrooms at Ice Box in Miami Beach. Not the cool one with all the nooks and crannies and hiding places, but the other one. She's beneath a stack of paper hand towels on a table just to the left as you walk in. If you listen real close, you can hear her purring under there.

Eyebrow

Ginny remembers looking through the old family photo albums that her mom had spent an entire summer organizing. One album for instance, would have several pages devoted to one child, with yearly school pictures from kindergarten clear on through high school. Ginny still remembers how all of her siblings would laugh at her photos and the one thing that remained constant year after year -- her big bushy eyebrows, the ones her mother always called "Irish eyebrows."

Her brother once got so hysterical laughing about the eyebrow pics that Ginny thought their mom might have to slap him just to stop him from laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. "Look," he says, "pointing to a baby picture of Ginny. You were born with those eyebrows." Unfortunately, it was true. She hardly had any hair on her head ... She was all eyebrows ... and they remained bushy right through 7th grade but in 8th grade she was hoping to change all that. Her brother, however, told her she was stuck with those eyebrows .... that they would just keep getting bushier until they were one big fat hairy brow. When he could see that Ginny was about to cry, he'd say, "Don't worry Ginny, you're still very special ... in a short-bus kinda way."

Ginny had always hated her eyebrows and pleaded with her mom to let her pluck them. Her mom, however, wouldn't let her anywhere near a tweezers, insisting that for every hair plucked, two more would grow back. "Besides," she told Ginny, "those eyebrows give you strength and character. They're what make you stand out. You just need to learn to make them work for you, and you'll figure that out with time."

But if there was one thing Ginny didn't want, it was to stand out. After standing out her whole life, she simply wanted to blend in, like camouflage. As for making her eyebrows work for her, she hadn't a clue how that would work. But as is often the case, it turned out that her mom was right. Ginny eventually learned to accept herself -- Irish eyebrows and all. Not that it was a smooth transition. As a teen, Ginny was frequently cited for behavioral problems and eventually was made to take the short bus to a special school for kids who who'd been getting in trouble. Fortunately for Ginny, she felt right at home with the group of outcasts she met on the short bus and made fast friends. eventually she recruited a few of them to start the bagpipe punk band she lovingly named Irish Eyebrows and the Short Buses. They got signed shortly after releasing their first CD, When Irish Eyebrows Are Smiling, and have since been touring in a short bus that runs on vegetable oil.

Ginny, now known simply as "Eyebrow," is happier than she has ever been and is overjoyed that many of her listeners refuse to pluck their eyebrows too. When she stands on a stage and looks out at the masses of bushy eyebrows, she smiles inside and can almost hear the voice of her sweet departed mother saying what she'd always say to Ginny when what she really meant was "I told ya so." ... "How now, eyebrow??"

Ginny is in an employment newspaper box near the mailbox at Southland Shopping Center on State Road 84 in Fort Lauderdale.