Substitute as a para for a gaggle of kindergarteners. Reconsider teaching. Reconsider taking Ethan out of Montessori next year and contemplate applying for a scholarship so he may attend kindergarten there. Feel proud that child is so damn smart without a minor push from any of us. Remember birthday is in two weeks and dread the annual birthday malaise. And, oh yeah, Valentine’s Day. Stupid holidays. Sleep on the couch all afternoon and never quite recover from unplanned nap. Bitch about the grit on the floors that is now embedded in my feet. Try to list my goals from this month through the rest of the year.
Resolve issues with ASL teacher, who turns out to be a fantastic instructor. Fall asleep on parents’ couch after dinner. Get lecture about incurable insomnia. Grumble. Go home. Begin thinking about the garden, how it will be planted and where in the yard the sunflowers will go, and how obscenely gaudy the ancient neighbors will find them. Feel pleased. Order egregious amount of vegetable and sunflower seeds from Burpee. Wonder where the hell I’m going to get the money for gardening tools. Finish math homework with little sweat or tears. Be glad I am not blogging as the dial-up connection has been painfully slow. Have horrible nightmare that disrupts the first opportunity for uninterrupted sleep in weeks.
Attend first school observation. Make awesome tortellini concoction that if distributed among the nations would inspire world peace. Buy straight needles to knit both sleeves of Klaralund at the same time. Mend two sweaters, darn a pair of socks, start a wearable everyday knitted hat in green. Lament blogging break because Pablo has been awfully cute and it is the day for cat blogging. Finish everyday green hat. Decide it’s too short, cast on at the bottom and begin knitting a fold-up brim. That night, watch an actual film, one that transcends “movie” status by having good actors, writing, and cinematography, but fall asleep halfway through. Dream about beautiful Cuban actor.
Clean the hell out of my house. Cleanest it’s been since I moved. Boxes from moving six months ago are finally all unpacked and it appears a yard sale is needed. Remove a Pablo-sized hairball from under the sofa. Gag. Also recover a transparent red Lego from a dark corner that inspires Ethan to make a wide array of emergency vehicles from Legos all afternoon. Pablo gets in on the Lego action. Thank whomever that both are busy enough for me to rest. Make grocery list for next week. Plan to cook all day Sunday. Pray for the good health of the inventor of my second-hand generic Crockpot.
Crap. It’s Superbowl Sunday, isn’t it? Roll out of bed to answer the phone, to hear that an old, fond acquaintance of mine (the scariest-looking teddy bear/I’ll-kill-you-in-a-minute gay man I’ve ever met) is in the hospital in a drug-induced coma because a friend of his thought it was really funny that he was drinking antifreeze during a night of excessive drunkenness and didn’t stop him. Fucking idiot. Go to the hospital and buy him a small token to let him know I’m thinking of him. Wonder about something Dru once said about getting through a time period of friends’ self-destructiveness. Wonder when this time will end. Wish people had some sense and that drug and alcohol addicitions were biologically impossible.
Lay around. Have sweatpants day. Go to local pet store where I am asked by the badly tattooed clerk if I have a long-haired cat. When I inquire why he asks, he points to the shoulder of my jacket covered in a carpet of cat hair. Curse. Eat homemade stew. Finish watching “City of God.” Love it despite movie malevolence.
Attend full day of classes. Collapse on couch. Take this quiz:
You Are the Very Gay Tinky Winky!
Purple with a gay pride symbol… how could he not be gay?
And that red purse is divalicious!
Read “Speak” (and part II) during lunch at my daily hangout. Briefly excuse myself to bathroom to cry. Go home after final class. Cut my own hair. Collapse on couch. Wander to the basement to gaze at pile of laundry. Go back upstairs to lay on couch. Sigh as E drives Lego emergency vehicles over my reclined body.
Another sweatpants day – the local school corps appear to be okay on subs. Knit a few rows on Klaralund. Pet Pablo. Count nine days until another disappointing birthday rolls around. Relent and begin blogging again.