yesterday i was pounding them by the fist-full.
it was two after another. i'd only stop to curse my housemate for making them in the first place, and then back to the grindstone: i mean, someone has to eat them.
but His mercies are new every morning the old Book says, and today, well, just after putting my girls down for a nap i saw a group of extremely formidable looking fellows sit down on my stoop. we have two stoops, one near the sidewalk and one near our porch. they were sitting on the former, waiting. i knew what they were waiting for, because since moving into this house i now know what it looks like when someone on foot or in a car is waiting for drugs. i mama-beared up and opened the door, "can i help you?"
they all looked at me with insolent eyes, "no, we're just waiting."
there was a pause, a charged silence, and they languidly got up from my steps and called me some breathy icky names to one another, and we were all on our way: them to the street and me back in my house, with the door firmly shut and locked.
a few safe moments behind my big, thick door and this annoying thought came floating by:
lame.
very lame.
the last thing i want to do is shun people who are looking for something to make life feel better.
and here i am, acting all suburban and freaky.
i need to re-do the slam-the-door-and-lock-it-fast routine i just performed.
and with the very voice used to tell Noah to build the ark, God said:
"peanut butter balls. and fast."
oh, God. the only thing more laughable than my initial interaction with them was to now walk outside and offer these guys some baked goods.
ugh. ugh. any other ideas?
enough stalling.
think fast, malchevich.
without much thought, and with all the neurosis and authority that comes with a pair of mom sweats, i grabbed a handful of these now peanut butter balls turned olive branch and waddled out onto the porch, walked down my steps, right up to them in the street and handed them a bag full of caloric wonder.
i told them we bake a lot, and that i thought they might like something sweet to eat.
they laughed and then looked away. they were too cool for me, but we all knew this already.
the only one who talked to me pointed to his fat-faced friend and said: "he'll eat 'em."
and that was that.
some more breathy icky laughing explitives as they walked down my street, and they were gone.
as were the peanut butter balls, praise God!,
and as was fear and hatefulness.
i felt a tad powerful as i walked back in my house.
extending a moment of love felt more securing and empowering than any amount of thickness in a door, or any number of turns on the old lock.
but maybe the feeling just came from my mom sweats.
i mean, i could do anything in those things.
