Raquel Martina Martinez

          Last fall one of my friends decided she would read the Bible in one year as her New Year’s Resolution. She went on Facebook and invited anyone interested to join her on this venture.  To her surprise, several of us signed up. She spent the last few weeks of the old year working up a weekly calendar and forming study questions to help keep us on task.           Over the years, I have attempted this on my own but I usually lose interest by the time I hit Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy.  Moses becomes a real nag, and I get bored with all the goat sacrifices. When this opportunity came up, I decided to try it once again.           Why am I doing this?           I consider myself intelligent and a voracious reader.  I taught English/Language Arts for thirty-seven years to students.  I have read most of the classics and the contemporary masterpieces out there.  Some I have read multiple times and can discuss each at great length, but I cannot say the same about

My dad loved animals so he would often show up after work with a dog that someone was giving away free at the office. Our first dog was a brown, bull terrier mutt. The other dogs in the neighborhood were afraid of this small, muscular, brown dog, but he let my two-year-old baby sister pull on his ears and tail. Butch kept an eye on all of us, but he loved her best.  I witnessed the day he yanked her away from the busy street by the seat of her cloth diaper. He died when I was about eight or nine. Dad soon after came home with another terrier mutt.  This one was all black and had a white mark on his face, so we named him Zorro like the TV character we all loved. He too was the lead dog in the neighborhood but this one loved my older brother best and would perk up every time my brother played with him. About the same time, we owned Zorro, Dad came home with a full-blooded English cocker spaniel. We named him King because he looked like a lion with his golden mane of hair.

They straggle in one at a time from the parking lot.  Most wear the same clothes they wore last week and the week before that and so on.  Some carry their possessions in old, grocery bags; others carry theirs in tote bags. They study the circle of chairs and each person selects where they will park their things before stumbling toward the growing line that is forming in front of the receptionist.  One who has already done so digs into her bag.  Out comes a plastic container.  It pops open and delicious aroma fills the air.  All are hungry; fasting is a must, so several heads turn toward her as she digs into her breakfast. “Next,” says the receptionist, and a woman slowly steps up to the table.  She hands over her membership card, offers up a small smile and an excuse, and steps onto the scale to weigh herself. It’s Thursday morning.  My weekly Weight Watcher meeting is about to start. We always register and weigh in first.  For this it is best to wear the same or similar clo