Okay, not really, but the kids are finally kicking their flu, and hopefully, since I worked three out of the five days they had it, I won’t get it.
The title, though, comes from Ladybug. She still sounds like a three-year old forty-year chain smoker, but she was SO anxious to get out of the house when I got home. We put on her little poncho and her backpack, and Chicken and I took her out walking. She went for a run instead. When she runs she puts her head down and her hands and elbows behind her, and wobbles her hips like a hula doll, and somehow carries herself forward with sheer trotting momentum. So she was running, and I start ripping out the old ‘Who’ riff– I’m free… I-m FREE! (See the video below:-) And she shouted it, running down the sidewalk– “I’m FREE!!!”
Then she’d hear me singing and turn to me, and say, “Not you, mommy. You’re not free.”
Okay, then. Apparently I’m very expensive!
She would stop every few steps and point stuff out– “Look, mommy–cat!” “Look mommy–puppy!” “Look mommy–turkeys!”
Chicken and I would say, “That’s nice, sweetie, a cat! A puppy!”
“Holy shit mom!” Chicken burst out. “Turkeys! There’s TURKEYS ALL OVER THAT YARD!!!” Apparently turkeys are scary en masse!
The weirdest thing about that little walk though–Ladybug stops and goes, “Look, mommy–bem.”
Chicken and I look at each other. “Bem?”
“Look mom! Bem!”
We’re looking, and we can’t figure out what she’s pointing to–swing set? Slide? Fence?
“Mom–the street’s called ‘Beam’.”
“Yeah mom! Bem!”
Chicken and I look at each other. “Naaah… not possible.”
Really isn’t. I hope.
And now a funny story from Mr. Trick.
Of course, I use pseudonyms for the teachers I work with just like I do for my family, but the real trick to Mr. Trick isn’t his name–it’s the fact that in spite of concerted and organized attempt to live up to his authority figure status as my department head, the guy hasn’t managed to get banished to the psychic room of antipathy to which I send 85% or more of my authority figures. My principal has also eluded this room, and so has my curmudgeonly colleague (although I think I put him in the doorway last year for a little while, his basic integrity and decency saved him from actually crossing the threshold). Anyway, besides offering me a kleenex when I was blubbering in his room last year, the following story (which I have asked permission to relate:-) will illustrate why I hold Mr. Trick in such high esteem.
Last night was an ‘intro’ night for parents of incoming freshmen, and Mr. Trick did his dog-and-pony show to explain how we do live up to some standards and we do have our shit together. He was trying to get the parents to access their own high school experience by pointing out that their students will be reading the same stuff that they read when they were in high school, when he ran into the following obstacle.
“So, your kids will be reading what you read–you all remember what you read in high school, right? Can you remember the titles?” And he held up (according to his story) the obligatory “teacher follow-along hand”.
Nobody raised their hand. From the back of the room, an angry middle-aged man who called himself ‘Bull’ said, “I burnt my books.”
“Excellent,” said Mr. Trick, “Now moving right along…”
“No, really–I burnt my books. I gathered them into a pile and ripped out the pages and…”
“Right,” said Mr. Trick grimly, “so can you remember the titles of any of the books you BURNT?”
*happy sigh* Classic Mr. Trick. The kids adore him, and so I find I must as well.
And now I go to knit a sock. I have 1 1/2 of the Lady Cory socks done, and then I’m going to start a single sock for the sock roulette–same pattern, only a little larger (since it’s for a fellow sufferer of big-assed feet). The first one turned out very nice–I am pleasantly pleased, and I will try (I have given up promising anything photo wise) to get a picture before I send them away.
And I have noticed that my obsession with my book-stats seems to have faded. That one review of Bitter Moon II (and editors, I STILL haven’t gotten my books–I’m very frustrated. Hear me seethe.) seems to have done for me what Ladybug’s walk did for her. It set me free;-)