Some ramblings as they come and as I have time:
·
I just finished one course that I’m teaching,
which leaves me with just 9 full
semester classes that I’m responsible for.
I’m shriveling a bit more just writing this. Guess what I’ve been doing a lot of
lately….? No, don’t. That will just shrivel your soul, too.
·
Yes, that’s my fault. Yes, I still want your pity just a teeny
bit.
·
My children are a study in contradictions. How can someone who looks so much like me act
with so little logic at times? Why can’t
6-year olds use words and not throw a hissy fit over previously accepted truths
(i.e. “This is all of the ketchup that you get tonight.”)? How can previously mentioned 6-year olds flip
a switch and suddenly become Model Child A in the space of time it takes me to
shower? If you’re going to sulk, then logically speaking…SULK already. We’re done-zos with this hot-cold behavior.
· Turning on some Pandora or Spotify almost always
smooths my furrowed brow. I love it each
and every time and am always glad that I turned it on (even better when I also remember that we have one of those
newfangled speaker things…jam baby,
jam!). But I don’t often enough remember
to do so. Alas.
·
Here’s where I’m at mentally and teaching-ly: Black Like Me and Americanah. Read one or
both, but mostly Black Like Me. Not enough people have read it. Don’t be that person. You should be better than the others, folks.
·
My boys are in first place in their division and
have been for a good part of the summer.
And. It’s. Delightful.
·
SO MUCH RAIN.
Make it stop.
·
I 100% came to the conclusion today that if I
was living on my own with no one else to feed or nurture, I would pretty much only
eat cereal and fruit with some veggie somewhere every couple of days.
·
Also, frozen edemame (microwaved, obvs) with soy
sauce. You’re welcome.
·
My kid asked for brie and crackers in her lunch
tomorrow, and since we live in Bougie-ville now, she’ll fit right in.
·
You should see some of the houses around us
now. U-N-R-E-A-L
·
Someday, I’m going to roll up to one of these
estates when it’s on the market in my 11-year old green CR-V with “air
conditioning” and check things out in person.
I’ll be sure to bring my kids, who are perfectly well behaved when given
large spaces and squishy couches (AKA any time we’ve gone into a store that
sells furniture).
·
So we went without A/C in the house for 3 weeks
at the beginning of summer when the sidewalk was literally (i.e. “figuratively”) melting outside. This was after we had no hot water in the
house for 2 ½ weeks in the spring. And
“my” car has this notion that when the air temperature is 80+ degrees that “air
conditioning” means “blow hot hot hot scorching hot air to condition the occupants to get used to Little House on the Prairie
style summers.” It’s basically a
Conestoga wagon.
·
Yes, fine.
This car was at one point purchased so as to be my primary car. But the boy got cheap and convinced me to get
the cheaper of the 2 CR-Vs that we were looking at (i.e. the stained-er and
ugly-er and less fancy-er one) so as to save $1000. Eight years later, I’d rather have a sunroof,
faux leather seats, and air conditioning.
Plus, I schnookered the boy into letting me have the other “new” car
that we bought in the last decade. Guess
what this one has? Guess what I’m not
driving now? Guess who might use this to
leverage herself into a Mini Cooper someday.
(Sidenote: Guess who’s the youngest child and prefers to just get to drive
the car that she prefers? Sure, you
might see that as “just wants to get her way,” but it could also be interpreted
as “knows how to maintain marital bliss.”)
·
After school today, while chatting with The
Younger, she asked me if “you have met any new friends this year.” Charming.
·
And sadly, not really. I’m lousy at that.
·
Case in point, a teacher in my department and
someone whom I do consider to be a friend thought that “You’re probably the
person who we would find at the bar.”
(I think because that's where you sit to just chat with others?) See, even my friends…
·
Earlier this semester, a student straight
facedly asked me if I’m “always like that or if it’s just a show?” What is wrong with me?!
·
My children treat me as if I’m their personal
recycling/trash service. Everything is
“for you, Mommy!” which I’ve since come to realize means “I just don’t want to
walk this over to the recycling on my own two feet.” But then they give me sweet notes sometimes for no apparent reason. I mean, for the most part, I'll still recycle those, but I feel less...perpetual maid-y about it. I guess that's what you do. Here's to another day of whatever comes.
