Old boxes of new ideas

Don't throw out old writing...ever. I went through an old box of manuscripts, notes and photos today and found stuff that was inspiring or reminded me of ideas I had forgotten about. In fact, the book I'm writing is a fusion of the initial gypsy girl image and a story I began writing when I was 15. Somehow, it worked and I was glad I don't toss out my scribbles.

One of the papers I found today was torn from a notebook and scrawled in blue pen three things: the lotto-playing nun, father and daughter basketball baby in stroller, and women too rich to carry their own bread.

I wrote that when I worked at a small grocery store. There was this nun who would come in and buy lottery tickets every Tuesday and Friday.  She always smiled and laughed, even while she responded to my "how are you today?" with a tale about having to go to the ER due to some frequent headaches. I don't remember much about the dad, except that he was pushing the little baby in the stroller while the older daughter of about four years, was carrying a basketball. At the store we always asked if the customers would like help with their groceries. I was the one who got to do that. I often enjoyed it as a chance to get outside and would make excuses for people why they needed my amazing assistance. It even became a joke with the fire department crews that would come in for a lunch from the deli. I didn't mind most of the time because most of the time people were kind, appreciative and needed a chance to feel deserving of a helpful gesture. This particular day, a woman who was dressed well and looked stuffy actually asked that I carry her loaf of bread to her waiting Jaguar. Her car was green and reminded me of snot.