Word: lorie
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...Lori is sitting in the cafe at Schnucks Markets' 24-hour Super Center, talking about what scares her. Like the national debt. "It's in the trillions, right? I barely know how to write that number." Then there's Social Security, the issue that hits her each Friday when she does RPM's payroll. "Every week it gets taken out of my paycheck, and will I ever get it back? Then I do the books, and I see it deducted from the payroll, and I think, Someone else is using my money." Glancing across the restaurant to a pair...
...Lori has never been the victim of a crime; she doesn't even know anyone who has. But she still thinks about it a lot. She has been downtown only twice this year, and locks her doors when she drives across the city limits. Having a child of her own has turned Lori into a law-and-order hard-liner who believes in capital punishment and thinks prisons coddle criminals. But on abortion, Lori belongs to the church of the second chance. "I'm upside down and tossed on this one. People I love have had them...
...Lori doesn't know whom she's going to vote for, but she does know she has trouble even remembering that Bob Dole is in the race. "It's like he's not even there," she says. "I have to force him to enter my mind." She knows a little of his story, admires his gritty recovery from his war injury, but is worried that he might not live out his term. "I want someone more contemporary...
...evening now, everyone's home, Sam's cold is better, the lights are coming on up and down the street. Lori's house is sheathed in olive-green steel siding; there's a Japanese maple squatting like a sumo wrestler out front, and a sweet gum tree, and a big red oak in the back shading the gas grill and the lawn chairs. The house is a home--a sweet, messy testament to the compromises of parenthood; the curtains are lace, the couches paisley, the walls papered in cream with pink roses and wreaths of dried flowers, all soft edges...
...movie of the week with Tori Spelling, but the sound is muted. Lori's favorite show is ER; it's paced at about the same rate as her life. Sam doesn't watch much of anything other than Barney and auto racing. The clock ticks; the ceiling fan whumps. Mike has given Sam his bath; the baby arrives, damp and in mismatched pajamas, to snuggle. Lori says his hair smells like candy...