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It's Me!

I haven’t written in so long that I don’t know where to begin. That implies that a lot has happened since the last time I wrote, which isn’t true; in fact, very little has happened, which is partly why I haven’t written. It’s more that once you stop writing, it’s hard to get back in the habit.

So, today, a random collection of thoughts.

Girl Scouts has begun! After two meetings for each troop, I’ve come to the not-so-surprising conclusion that first graders are far more easily entertained than third and fourth graders.

Cold front coming Friday! It’s not even going to hit 65. This raises the clothing problem. I have summer clothes (which I am so sick of; if I have to wear one particular pair of black capri pants ever again I will scream) and I have sweaters; I have nothing in between.

Least favorite parts of the day: Loading and unloading the car. The backpacks! With their water bottles that always fall out! The lunchboxes! The bag of clothes to wear after school, the books for piano lessons, the assortment of toys we can never leave the house without, the stray pencils and ponytail holders and other detritus…it drives me crazy. Crazy!

I avoided most of the 9/11 remembrances and retrospectives and so forth this weekend. I did, however, while flipping channels, catch the video of the second plane swerving and crashing into the South Tower -- and I actually gasped and raised my hand to my mouth, as though I was surprised that it happened. It's still so shocking and horrible, ten years later.

Mallory has joined the band. She chose the xylophone, apparently based on the assumption that a percussion instrument would be less likely to transmit germs than a flute or a trumpet. She’s doing very well in piano so I think this was actually a good choice for her. Also, according to a friend of mine with a son in high school, girls who play percussion are considered very cool indeed.

Airplane tickets around Christmas time should be free. Yes, I know that would create no end of logistical problems. All four of us were supposed to go home for the holidays; now it looks like just Phoebe and I will be going home for a few days before the holidays. Mallory is also invited but can’t decide whether she wants to go or not. On the one hand, she hates flying. On the other hand, she loves Grandmom’s fruit salad. It’s a difficult choice.

The North Carolina General Assembly has voted to put a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage the ballot next May. According to one fine politician, this is the most critical issue of our time – more important than jobs, or education, or hurricane cleanup. I am so disgusted by the whole thing I could spit. Here’s an idea: If you’re against gay marriage, don’t have one. Otherwise, leave people alone. Or: If you’re so worried about the sanctity of marriage, why not put a constitutional amendment banning divorce on the ballot? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

The president is in town today; therefore, all the highways and byways around my office, which is near the airport, are closed down. I am in full support of our president and care about his safety, but to me this seems extreme. I guess I’ll stay in for lunch.

That is all.

Comments

Karen said…
Interesting perspective about female percussionists. I guess because there are fewer of them.

So maybe you could wear a sweater with your black capris! Would that make them any more appealing?
aimee said…
So glad you are back. What a recap.

The vice-president came to town a couple of weeks ago, and all the highways were closed down---during rush hour traffic. Seth was so mad HE could have spit.

I played bass drums one year during marching season and had so much more fun than I ever had playing the flute, so I think Mallory made a great choice.

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Lesia has 32 stickers. Diana has a few stickers. Lesia adds their stickers. She has to regroup when she adds. How many stickers does Lesia have? Circle the number.
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We puzzled til our puzzlers were sore, but we still couldn't figure out the answer. I wrote a note beside the problem: "Mrs. G., this problem didn't make sense to either Mallory or her parents."

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