Volunteers of America

I've had a strange week. Yesterday I went to the Bodies Revealed exhibit, currently making its home in the least cultural district of Sacramento, Alta Arden. I was intrigued at the thought of going to see a bunch of dead bodies and body parts, especially after finishing a book like "American Psycho," not that the book is for lack of graphic visuals. However, I have to admit, when my step mother was raving about how great the exhibit was years back, I found myself leaning more to the, "that's disgusting" and "how creepy" side. But this time I swallowed my grade schooler reaction and decided to go with a scientific eye. I can't say that I flipped out over spleens and nervous system functions on display in the way I did when seeing the Mona Lisa for the first time, but the experience was quite eye opening and, yes, interesting to say the least. However, if you decided to go, my advice is to avoid the embryonic babies in jars area. I know it sounds like a barrel of fun, but it gave me nightmares.

Today I volunteered with my mom at a local Women's Center. We woke up at the butt crack and made our way over there to serve breakfast and spread some holiday cheer. I was a bit nervous at first because the last time I volunteered to serve meals my friend got a stale loaf of bread chucked at her head by an unsatisfied costumer. After my friend fell to the floor the homeless woman exclaimed for all to hear, "Whoops, my hand slipped." That memory has stuck with me, but I found the women and children today to be friendly and easy going. I even got hit on once which served to provide plenty of laughter for my mother who was so tired she even slipped a double chocolate chip muffin onto her own plate when no one was looking. Nothing like a dose of sugar to keep you alert. Just ask the addicts who I watched dump a pound of sugar on everything, from a hot cup of coffee to a bowl of salad. Apparently, it helps calm their addictions by trading one vice for another: drug addiction for diabetes.

The women were very ethnically diverse but I did notice that the various nationalities separated into different tables. The kids, however, played games together and no one was want for good company or second helpings. What I missed though was the type of closeness you get from smaller deeds, like the year I volunteered for Meals on Wheels. I knew every person inside the houses I delivered to. That Christmas I received a handmade, woven Kleenex box holder with snowmen on it from one of the elderly ladies who was also a Holocaust survivor. She was the funniest old lady I've ever had the pleasure to hang with, and no one could put together a 500 piece puzzle as fast as she could. She was like the Bobby Fischer of puzzle putter togetherers. Oh well, the experience was definitely something I needed and have been missing out on in my life of networking and schmoozing and worrying about whether or not I'll be able to get in a certain club or what the hell I'm going to wear on my date with the latest and not so greatest future ex-boyfriend and/or stalker. So if anyone is up for some more volunteering (as long as it doesn't involve reading L. Ron Hubbard books to underprivileged children in the ghetto - true story) then call me up, and let's do some good deeds together. Hell, what else you got to do until this writers' strike is over besides drinking wine and watching re-runs of "Gossip Girl"?