I don’t wanna talk about myself today. We’ll actually, I really do, but it’s the same conversation I’ve had for months on end and I am equally mad at myself for continuing to have such hard days—it makes no sense how one person can hurt so much while the other enjoys freedom.
I made probably the best dinner I’ve ever made (for PCSV&LDRL) last night. I made roasted root vegetables (with tons of whole garlic—paying for that today)—inspired by the boy I’ve been dating, and crab cakes and whiskey bread pudding, which was to die for (thanks SLunna!). Not huge news to most—but perfect food is always news worthy in my world.
I am feeling lucky to be alive and uninjured this morning, and even though it’s been an hour, my heart has not yet returned to normal. The small amount of ice and snow we received yesterday proved to be too much for my little car, which spun out of control as I was heading to a stop light (no I wasn’t speeding). I was barely able to keep it from sliding into the cars on either side of me—one of which was oncoming traffic—and the horn buttons are so small that I couldn’t find them in the moment to warn people. I punched the center of the steering wheel for the horn like in my old car, but now it is just an airbag. Thank God it was a green light, I finally came to a stop in the center of the intersection, a few feet from the person waiting to turn right. It truly was due to guardian angles—had to have been, I was inches from a horrible wreck at least four times in those few seconds—and taking someone with me. It was also surreal that I was in such a state of terror and trying desperately to keep the car under control and no one seemed to notice. The people in the oncoming traffic didn’t try to move over—they just kept coming, and I couldn’t find the damn horn to get their attention. Just one more reminder that so often we walk through this life alone, inwardly screaming and wailing our fear, heartbreak, and terror—all the while wondering why someone can’t hear it seeping out of us. Maybe this is why I keep a blog.
Due to being sick of writing about the things in my personal life that disturb me, my kids have given me lots of things to be disturbed about at work—for which I am grateful. Some of them cringe worthy, but also fun enough to pass on to you.
I have a fifth grade boy who is rather (well, I was gonna say chunky, but let’s call it what it is) fat, and rather gross to be honest. He reminds me of myself in grade school—in looks—not actions. He was sitting in class two day ago, voraciously picking his nose and then eating his snot—all the while surrounded by his classmates. When redirected in this action, he gave the teacher a big ‘fuck you’ look and took another slurp. I later found out that earlier, he had been lifting up his shirt in class and having another boy stick his finger in and out of his vast belly button. Talk about something you don’t wanna dig around in—loose an arm. Later that same day, as I was walking to the teacher’s lounge to grab my leftovers out of the fridge, I was walking by the fifth grade lunch line, and I hear this comment from one of the boys, talking in excited animation to another boy (both surrounded by little girls), “Yeah, I’m totally getting pubic hair!!!” I skidded to a halt in my track, put my hand on the back of their necks and leaned forward, “Not something we talk about in the cafeteria line. Understand?”
I rushed to the bathroom (threw up—not really) and then gathered the other fifth grade teachers and we all died laughing.
Black Coffee Tables
2 years ago