School Lunches- a shout out to Anne Lamott

so, for 286 we are reading a book about writing, "Bird by Bird", (I recommend it. Also, I'm reading "the Joke" by Milan Kundera)
well wait..
That gets a new paragraph.
A classmate of mine today referenced Lamott's line today about how American authors need to be hopeful, and french writers don't need to worry about it, he followed with a Camus reference.
First of all, France does have some pretty depressing authors, and "The Stranger" will probably make you want to go cry in a corner and/or take a nap to pretend you never read it. But read "The Three Musketeers" by Dumas and tell me you don't laugh outloud at his description of the horse.
It's pretty brilliant.
But if you want to read something depressing, read some Czech writing. Like Milan Kundera. Now THAT is depressing. Or read "Night".
Or hell, read one of those Lurlene McDaniel books that my OCD friend Stephanie read in fifth grade about people with fatal diseases. (Most of those novellas go on to become lifetime movies, I'm pretty sure. It's along the same lines as "The Face on the Milk Carton.")
That's enough of that tangent.


In other news, Lamott suggests when you have writers' block, to write about school lunches.
So I'm gonna give it a whack.

Well, most of my elementary school career was spent at All Saints Elementary, a private Catholic School in Charlotte N.C., and we never had the typical school lunch. (Although we did have those confusing milk packets that you had to spear with a straw in order to drink, which took a certain amount of talent and practice.)
What we did have as school lunches was fast food. Somehow, our school made deals with McDonald's, Pizza Hut, and Taco Bell, who supplied our school with hamburgers, cheese pizza, tacos, every day of the school week. McDonalds got Mondays and Wednesdays, Pizza Hut got Tuesdays, Taco Bell got Thursdays, and Fridays you had to fend for yourself.
Now, at the time, I was incredibly bitter about the fact that my mom would not give me lunch money. She argued that it was more economical and healthier for my sister and I to pack our own lunches. That didn't really mean shit to me. All of the other kids were cooler than me, they had fast food.
David Eades and Michael Gatto would sit next to me, making conversation over their happy meals, while I poked around at my un-happy meal with the cheesy note on my napkin from my mom.
Later in life though, I laugh at Michael and David, who have been filling their arteries with all sorts of nonsense from such a young age! Chemically enhanced food! I commend my mother for not giving into my pleading. She really did have Sarah's and my best interest in mind.
If you don't know what I mean, go watch Supersize me, or read Fast Food Nation. Or go to a cow farm.
So I'm proud of the Turkey sandwiches I had, cut in triangles, and my fresh strawberry's and hi-c.
I'm going to call my Mom and thank her.
And then I'm going to pay my gap bill.
And then I'm going to go to class.