Sunday morning, rain is falling, wind is blowing, and the ladies are on the couch under the afghan while Q builds bionicles and I sit in the kitchen and write this. I am the only one not wearing pajamas.
(I am not, however, naked.)
We had a few friends over for dinner last night - Janneke did, more accurately, since she whipped a huge and delicious pan-Latin-American feast. All I did was clean the house. We dragged up a table from downstairs and had five people over. (Would've been seven, but Mark and Ronadh are in Ireland, attending a family funeral - we're thinking of you guys!) It was big, big fun, and the kids, who went to bed half an hour after the guests arrived, cooperated fabulously. T was afraid she wouldn't be able to sleep, but I pointed out that her door was open, the lights from the dining room were reaching her bed, and she could hear every word any of us said. And this was to convince her that she would be able to sleep. It's a strange logic that kids live with - the more disturbances that keep them from thinking the dark thoughts, the more likely they are to fall into unconsciousness. Q, though, who has been lobbying for a later bedtime, claimed not to be sleepy at all, and so, in order to avoid a scene, I magnanimously allowed him to play his Gameboy in bed. (An hour and a half later, he was still at it - I shut him down at that point. And he was up this morning at 7:00, chipper as can be. Maybe he has a point - I'll get all Charlie Wilson on this issue, hold some meetings and see if we can't work something out.)
I'm still working on the guitar. I've got "Fusill contra fusil" pretty close to whipped, and after the guests left last night, Janneke and I ran through "La maza" a few times - and Janneke did so without notes, nailing all the words on the last one. (Which, if you know that song,, is not easy.) Don, who came over last night for the party, was psyched to learn that I was doing that, since he learned to play in Chile and has a number of Silvio songbooks. So this afternoon I'm going to go over to his house and see if we can't break some wine glasses. (With the music.)
Skittles is still Pittles, as in "She pittles all over the damn place". We ordered the musk stuff that Jayne suggested, and at least now have the advantage of knowing where she likes to leave them. I haven't detected any smell for days, since we stay ahead of her. The bathroom door is always closed, leaving the area behind the woodstove, the floor under the picture window, and the kitchen door that leads to the garage. Nothing where there's carpet, thank goodness - though that makes sense, since none of our rugs would have any ancient cat smell that (hopefully) humans can't detect. Maybe I should whip out the anti-icky-poo from years ago and soak it into the floor there...Many possible solutions. They can all get in line behind my nap. Here's the leaky feline last week, checking out our new skis:
Tension builds at work around what the budget cuts will bring in the coming year. I understand it - there's going to have to be some reductions. But I don't feel like my job is in danger, but maybe I'm naive. Just - It seems like there are a lot of steps to take first. Pay freezes, eliminating a sport or two...And then of course, if someone has to be eliminated, there are a lot of part-time people. I would hate to see that happen, but just in terms of my own job security, it seems things would have to get a lot worse before they eliminated Spanish. We have a very successful Latin program, for example, which everybody would hate to see go, but it's one person, and we offer two other languages. Seems that would be on the block before me. So our Latin teacher is worried, and we are all worried for her...French seems a little on edge, too, and one of them is new there, even newer than me. But French is popular, and the new teacher absolutely rocks. It would be a bad move. Besides, I think all of us would take a pay cut if it meant others wouldn't be fired. I certainly would. Or at least a freeze. There are some single moms who teach there, some people whose husbands are hurt and haven't worked in a long time...It could get bad. But we have a good union, so I'm sure they'll get creative and protect everybody. Go Lenox Education Association! (Or whatever they're called.)
Whatever - what comes will come. We're in pretty good shape, financially, in terms of debt and such. Nothing other than the car and the house, and the car, we can sell, if things get bad. But I'm not worried. I'll be employed three years from now.
("So, then," says the bespectacled older gentleman across from me with the bow tie and the cigar, re-crossing his legs and jotting things down in a pad, "why are you going on about it?" So I turn into a bull and gore him to death and then blast through the picture window and across the river to board the train and ride through the tunnel to freedom.)
OK, off to tickle some kids. Take care, brush your hair...
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