Margaret Aranda, MD, PhD en Dr Margaret Aranda: For NewBeeZ, Dr. Margaret Aranda: Stirring Authors Along, Invisible Ilnesses Chief Writer, Mind & Body • 12/10/2016 · 4 min de lectura · +200

Age 8: Selling Cupcakes

 / by Dr Margaret Aranda /

In the early 70's, it was okay to go door-to-door selling a plate packed with cupcakes.  We sold them for 5 cents each.

Age 8: Selling Cupcakes

I didn't think we needed the money. Or, did we? Why, oh why are we selling cupcakes?

I'm so confused.

By now, I realized that many things in life were confusing to me.

I tried to  figure them out. I tried and tried.

I strained.

I couldn't do it.

I couldn't figure things out.

Someone famous in Source Title

...but with six girls and one boy, maybe my Mom just wanted us to do something productive. Like, get out of the house. I don't know how this thought got into my brain.
My older sister stayed home (I have no idea how she managed that one, but she always seemed to leave when times got tough). I was left with Martha and Louise. That was a harbinger of things to come as I would ....well, tell you later...

That also left me in charge.  Martha was one year younger than me, and in turn, Louise was one year younger than her.  Virtually all seven of us were one year apart. The longest time period between babies was eighteen months.

We were properly dressed with white socks and shoes, sleeveless plaid blouses, and crisp pants that had a line down the middle; Mom liked to iron.  I mean, she really liked to shoot the steam and make it gurgle after she sprayed it with corn spray.

Age 8: Selling Cupcakes

I remember her sewing machine chirping along, and she must have had a part-time job on the phone for a time, as I heard her repeatedly say, "Call me back. My phone number is EX6-3836." I have no idea. Maybe we did need that cupcake money. Image Courtesy

Our hair had ribbons and bows; mine had tight braids that hurt my head, with little strips of ribbon actually inside and through the braids.

Age 8: Selling Cupcakes

Our teeth were brushed, and we were ready to go.  We lined up in the avocado green-and-mustard kitchen, waiting for Mom to give us the