delivering stone-cold, frozen chicken pies

Stepping outside this morning made me feel like I was back in Missouri. There was a thick bite to the cold, very Midwest like. I think it might be affecting my brain. As I was waiting for my white chocolate mocha at Starbucks, I read the headlines in the paper. Four or five times I read: Plumbers overwhelmed by calls for frozen pies. (Or something to that effect.) I kept re-reading it, because I couldn’t figure out what plumbers would have to do with frozen pies. Further more, what’s the big deal with frozen pies? Stick them in the oven. Or was it so cold that they were freezing right when these people took them out of the oven? And if so, shouldn’t they call a heater repair man, or even a baker—why a plumber? Needless to say, once again I was terrified at the thought that I am teacher and that I spend the majority of my day teaching kids to read when I realized that what I kept reading actually said: Plumbers overwhelmed by calls for frozen pipes. Pipes. Makes much more sense. Not as fun perhaps, but understandable. I took my white chocolate mocha, my illiteracy and moved on.
The package for his birthday came in. I contacted Amazon before they shipped it and told them to cancel it. They told me to call UPS and tell them I was going to refuse it. I did. I called UPS and they told me to call the morning it was to be delivered. I did. They told me to write a note refusing the package and put it on the door. I did. Note was still there, package left underneath it. I called again. They said they will pick it up Monday. Package is sitting by the front door. A gift not needed by him. Much like the house it sits in and the man who bought it.
I went to see Precious last night. Yesterday at work was insane. Already dealing with the police before school started and a kid cursing me out on the phone before the first bus arrived. You can imagine how the rest of the day went. By the time the day was over, I didn’t have it in me to work out, walk the dogs in the freezing ice air, or do anything productive, so I went to a movie. It was a good movie, pretty well done. However, I might as well have stayed at work. My friend that went with me was in tears beside me. I didn’t so much as get misty-eyed. And we all know how much I cry. There honestly was not one thing in that movie that I haven’t see or dealt with. Most of it many, many times. Well, I don’t think I’ve had a case where a TV was used as weapon, but still. On one hand, it’s a good thing that I’ve hardened enough to not get emotional over such things, otherwise I couldn’t do the job I do. However, I do find it somewhat disturbing that movies such as The Road and March of the Penguins can bring me to tears and Precious simply made me nod and go, ‘yup, that’s pretty much how it happens.’ Although, now that I think of it, since I’ve gotten that hardened with my job and the kids and families I work with, maybe I have hope that I will get that hard in my own life and simply be able to shrug off how life is turning out. Either way, and this will only make sense if you’ve seen the movie, fried chicken is one of my favorite meals and I think it will be awhile before I am able to indulge myself in that pleasure again.