Intro to kettle bells my ass.

I'm sore from my workout, but I have some wandering thoughts.

---

As a child, I spent my days running down aisles. Grocery aisles, stacked with things I couldn't have. For hours on end my brother and I was subjected to hanging out in the grocery aisles as my mom meticulously and strategically ordered her coupons so she can save money. There was no such thing as buying things without coupons. No such thing. Even milk. Maybe french bread though.

The narrow aisles of los angeles' sweatshops to only collapse on a large bag of unmade clothing. Do you know what our clothes look like before they hit the racks? They are all in separate pieces like pieces of a puzzle. Each part is sewn together by a woman. Each part stitched on the dreams of having a good home, food on the table, to see your child smile because you brought her a mickey mouse towel home.

Do you know what thread looks like? It's thin, colorful, and paints the sweatshop with life. I particularly like the leftover cloth and thread that piles up when you sew. You see, when you sew two pieces together there is also a sharp knife that cuts the fabric to make it perfect. Perfect so when you pick it up in the store you don't notice the imperfection that once was. Nothing is perfect. The sharp knife cuts the fabric simultaneously as the thread stitches together the two pieces together. As a result you get a pile of cut cloth that falls down a shoot into a paper bag or whatever you put there to catch it. The result is dusty, colorful, mass of shredded fabric.

Those are the aisles I ran between.