Narcissist? Me?

I'm not going to do a journal online any more. Since, you know, no one else reads it. If there is someone out there who DOES read this (Spike?) then friend me on facebook for the daily updates.

I'm either suffering from early-onset arthritis, or I just knitted WAY too much yesterday.But I'm trying to get Poof's socks done, so I can knit myself a winter hat. And then there's the sock yarn I bought...

Tonight my son requested a lullaby about fire trucks. And my literary, musical and artistic brilliance is such that I created one for him on the spot. I am SO amazing. :-)

Sung to the tune of "Stay Awake" (because I do NOT write music):
Nee-nahs driving down the street
Nee-nahs who should be asleep
Though your lights are flashing bright
Turn them off, for it is night.

Nee-nahs who should be in bed
Car chase dreams inside your head.
Though your sirens sing a song
You will be asleep 'fore long.
This is Ian's nee-nah song.

Yeah. I'm that good.

Tonight, Ian made his first request for a song from MY catalog. (As opposed to his, which consists of "ABC" and "Twinkle Twinkle". Which are really the same song. But I digress.) His music choice? "Right Field" by Peter Paul and Mary. Or, as he calls it, "the baseball song."

What's amazing isn't that I sat through four hours of meetings. Amazing is that it was ONLY four. It felt like eight!!

But even with that reality check, it still doesn't seem real that I will walk on campus tomorrow and be surrounded by 1000+ teenagers.

‎"You know what? I'ts one in the morning. I'm cleaning the vomit out of the carseat tomorrow."

Good times, good times.

(The vomit, in fact, did not get cleaned out for two more days.)

Tom is back from hiking. The bear they encountered his final night did not, in fact, decide to eat him. There was much rejoicing at home upon his return. I rejoiced by getting teary and squealing. Ian rejoiced by running a 103 fever.

I really, really missed him while he was gone. And I tried not to go crazy thinking about all the horrible things that could be happening to him. This trip confirmed it for me - I can't go hiking again. I'm too dang scared. About my health, about accidents - mostly about my health. Which is stupid and frustrating, but there you go.

Worked in my classroom all day today. Purging files, mostly. Amazing how productive purging makes you feel!

(As I sit here writing this, IP (who is busy fighting off sleep) just took off his pyjama bottoms, put them back on with both feet in one leg, laughed about this, somehow stood up, tried to jump up and down, and of course fell over onto his pillow. And then looked surprised and dismayed, like he didn't expect that would happen! (Which, it occurs to me, he probably didn't.))

My husband goes hiking in the mountains the same day that there's a concert disaster. The Sugarland stage collapses, and all you read about in the news is whether the rigging is to blame, or if it was an act of God. Not only is his profession being acknowledged, it's front page news! This NEVER happens! And he knows nothing about it.

There's some irony there. Situational, I do believe.

I just spent all afternoon working on Grammar. Semester 1 grammar for the juniors is done. The tremendous sense of accomplishment, however, is diminished by the fact that my brain is bleeding out of my ears.

The goal for today: get out of the Belgian Congo and back to Europe.

(In other words, finish reading Heart of Darkness.)

I've been really, really enjoying reading this. Which totally surprised me, given how much I hated it in high school. (Something to remember there...) Yes, it's difficult. Supremely difficult. Supremely dense. But it's so rich. It's going to be a thrill to teach.

I need to make a note of how in-depth the students get it this year. Because this year I myself have been able to get levels 1 and 2, and maybe 3. Next year I'll definitely get level three. But as the years pass, and I start working on levels 3-100 (which might not be the max depth...) I need to remember that the students are reading it for the first (possibly only) time, and will only be able to get levels 1-2.

(Post created retroactively 10/10/11)

When did parents stop teaching their kids basic manners for visiting people? Things like saying "hello" to the people you are visiting and saying "goodbye" and "thank you" at the end of the evening?

Visit from the cousins and their kids. Was not the disaster it could have been. But certainly no feeling from the kids that this was anything more than a pit stop for food and recreation. No sense of visiting family.

Grrr...

'Nuff said.

There's nothing like a fire in the firepit on a summer night, with the lights twinkling in the tree, and the stars twinkling in the sky. And your toddler, helpfully getting wood from the pile about every 30 seconds for you to add to the fire. Little pyro, there...

(Breaking the inertial barrier once again. I just think that every facebook post should be copied into here. Then at least I would have SOMETHING.)

(Going to skip over my upset tummy all day because, really, I'm the first to be totally bored with my health self-diagnostic obsession.)

Tonight I connected with old college friends. Actually, the guy was a friend, someone I desperately wanted to fuck and never got the chance to. I remember well a late night dinner at Denny's where it became extremely apparent that we both were immensely attracted to each other. He was single; I was not. Three days later our statuses had perfectly reversed. I remember arriving at a gaming session and immediately declaring to him (and the entire room) "Sam dumped me!" To which he immediately replied "Fran and I just got back together." I would be bitter about this, but since he's still with Fran, married for 15 years, it would appear that relationship worked well for them.

So he was a friend. She was not, not just because of the frisson of jealousy, but because she was always a little annoying. For God's sake, she knew even then that she was going to be an accountant!

I was fascinated to discover over the evening how little they had changed. Ben looked exactly the same, just a little grey in his beard and mane of hair. Fran actually looked much better than in college - she got the hang of makeup and hair color, it would appear. (It was, I will admit, very gratifying to have Ben, after our hug of greeting, say "Wow. You look...amazing." Though I hasten to add that neither of us tried to recreate the old sexual tension, for which I was, honestly, greatly relieved. I just didn't want to play that game.)

Fran's conversation, however, was just like before. A tad tedious and annoying (but just a tad, I will grant.) I had completely forgotten how self-centered Ben was, and still is. Conversation flowed best when it revolved around him. He did ask a few questions about my life, and I volunteered much more. But I think I left with a much better understanding of where they are in life than then have of me.

But it was still immensely enjoyable to see him again (and her as well...) There are not many people I communicate with who know my past, who know the me I was as well as the me I am now. As the years have gone by, I realize what a precious commodity old friends are. Not just for their own company, but because they provide you that link with who you were.

And because it's really enjoyable to spend an evening with someone you desperately wanted to fuck, who still looks good and who thinks you still look good, even if you aren't playing that game anymore.

So I drove down to see my brother and attend a conference today. And, on the way down, I got some side pain. Nice shooting pains in my right side that were constant, and really shooting when I breathed deeply. No problem breathing, however, except that it hurt. Worse when I moved around.

I've had pains like this before. Usually in my left side, and usually heartburn. These might have been gas, might have been pleurisy, might have been any number of things. Diagnosis is not the point here.

The point is, I wanted so badly to freak out.

I held it together, barely. The second round I did call M&D, got Dad, and didn't ask for mom. Called Poof who was sympathetic, told me I wasn't going to die. And so I listened to Harry Potter, and at times totally forgot it was there. And sometime during dinner, I realized that it went away. And now I guess I'm beating myself up over being so scared in the first place.

I dealt with the situation, I suppose. I wish I hadn't called anyone. It didn't make me feel any better at the time (it rarely does.) And now those I love know how frightened I was. What helped was not thinking about it. I did give myself a talking to. What was the worst that could happen? Death. Not likely. Next worse? Hospital. No clue where one was, would need to call an ambulance. Decided that thinking through that scenario was not helpful, so I didn't. I distracted. Which, typically, seems to always do the trick. For my mental state if not my physical one.

Which is, as I just said, dealing with the situation. As the nurse pointed out last summer, if you're handling it, then it's not a problem. Suuuure, I guess. But I HATE being so dominated by fear about my health and physical well being. Although I'm dealing with it, I still feel so weak-minded.

Perhaps, rather than beating myself up about being afraid, I should focus on being proud that I'm pretty consistently able to distract and redirect. That I AM, in the end, in control.

Wow. Never thought of that until now.

Guess that's why we journal, isn't it?!

Three nights in a row: falling asleep at 9:45.

Just sayin'.

Had another wonderful moment with Ian today. And it wasn't the scheduled, big marquee things. (Although those were pretty fun too. Swum at my grandmother's house today. Entertainment for her, practice for Ian, free for me, and cool water on a scorching day. Win win win win!)

Ian and I were eating lunch after our big art extravaganza. (Brush painting on a large piece of paper. He's very particular about which color he wants to use next.) He kept on stealing my grapes, when he had his own on his plate. So I started stealing his, then started stealing his goldfish. And we were giggling, and taking food from each other's plates, and Jewel was on in the background, while the hot sun was baking things outside.

Another lovely moment. Which was when it occurred to me: for these perfect little moments with him to happen, I have to set things up for them. In other words, I have to play with Ian, and focus on him when I do, and enjoy him. Not every moment with him will be magic. But if I'm interacting, and focusing, and having fun, then that creates space for the magic to occur. And it puts me in a frame of mind to notice it when it does.

And wow, is that easily extendable to life or what? You have to be in a frame of mind, set up events so the miracles, the good luck, the perfect moments can happen. In your classroom, in relationships with others, whenever. Give it space, wait for it, and then you'll catch it when it comes.

One might even hypothesize that you create the miracle yourself.

Two major breakthroughs today. At least, in my book they were major.

Ian responded to a question I asked. Now, this wasn't a direct question, like "Would you like yellow cheese or grandpa cheese?" (That's what we call mozzarella even if it's not my dad's homemade. But I digress.) This was part of the random stream of chatter I tend to throw at h im, especially when I'm driving. I dislike just riding in silence - I want him to feel like he's a part of the trip, even if he's in the back seat. So I talk to him. Things like "First, we're going to the grocery store. Then we're going to stop by and see Grandpa." Or, in this case "Ooo! Do you see the big green truck?"

And he said "Yes." Just like that! "Yes." And suddenly, we were having a conversation!

the other thing? He sang the entire alphabet song. He's never done even a part of it before. And there I am, in the bathroom rinsing out his swimsuit, and I hear him singing it to himself. I asked him to do it again, but he just looked at me and smiled. So I asked him again and turned my back to him, going into the kitchen, and he did it again!

But he wouldn't repeat the performance tonight for daddy, of course.

All that, AND swimming? I think that's more than enough for one day.

Got my period yesterday morning before we left.

Got explosive diarrhea yesterday evening at dinner.

Yay!

Fortunately, it only took 45 minutes to empty out my entire lower digestive track, and I got all of it out during dinner, before the play. Because getting up every five minutes during the show would have been awkward. Not that it added much to dinner, however.

But after that, I really didn't have any more problems. Play was great, hotel room fine (though the electric fire was exceedingly cheesy) and breakfast this morning delightful. Surprisingly, I would judge the trip an overall success.

Which might just show how desperate I was to get out with my husband. Nothing was going to ruin that overnight!