A blog, because calling to tell you all of this would be inefficient.
Ask me anything
February 20, 2010
Start the video before you read any further.
Excerpt from my prolific elementary school journal, dated 2-10-93:
“Dear Journal: Today Mrs. Mango told the class about the special table, and the manatees. We also got to see a really neat manatee movie. Tommorrow Katy’s coming over.”
I have no memory of the NEATO manatee movie we watched, but many exist in the youtube, and this one has a particularly relaxing vibe. These creatures may look like they were forgotten in a local sewer for a few generations, but as I recall they were being mauled by Florida speedboats at epic rates, and even possibly endangered. May it complement your weekend well.
“The Special Table” is incredibly mysterious and I really wish I could remember its significance. Like, was it nasty grown-up-speak for a time out zone? Or, rather, a reward area if you finished your quizzle early?
Mrs. Mango was my 2nd, 3rd, AND 4th grade teacher - and I am the only person I know to have had three years in a row with the same elementary school teacher and actually have been promoted each year. We used to call the less successful high school version of this 3-year connection the THREEPEAT, and I did indeed have one very special sophomore chemistry student for three years in a row. Let’s just say he enjoyed chemistry enough to try it over a couple times…
If you’re not entranced by these fugly aquabeasts by now, you clearly haven’t gotten to the part where they make out with ropes. Adorable!
Yesterday my fell outside and hit and hurt her rearend. She couldn’t be a lunch Lady because of it. She said that she would go to the doctor if the wouldn’t go away in a few days. “
1. I’m moderately concerned about my diction here, given the obvious absence of “mom” in line one and “pain” in line 2. Was I so upset about this that I couldn’t write out those two words, as a sign of weird aphasic empathy for my mom’s severe pain?
2. She must not have been in that much pain given that I don’t remember this incident whatsoever. I do remember one time she fell up a few concrete stairs and got a nasty big shin cut. Good story.
3. GREENERIE TRIVIA: My mother was my husband’s lunch lady during middle school. Mine too. It’s a great sign that she has no recollection of him, because she only remembers the kids who are now incarcerated. Some middleschoolers are just memorable like that.
Yesterday night I went to Plymouth and saw all sorts of ice sculptures. Kim came with me. Her favorite was the sculpture of a horse head. I like the one of a whale with feet sticking out of his mouth. Actually they were all good except I think that was the best.”
Kim and I sound like a couple of vindictive blood-thirsty second graders here, with her preference of the Godfather-esque icy horse head, and mine of the Jonas-didn’t-quite-make-it-out-alive man-eating whale! Where were the sculptures of butterflies and puppies? HMM? Ice sculptures SOUND so innocent, but you really have to second guess the impact such public art has on children. Terrifying.
“Yesterday my sister Kristen twisted her ankle. Her ankle got kicked buy a boy in gym. I wondered why she was lapping behind and hopping on one foot.”
So empathetic you are, Young Self! Sheesh! In case you’re wondering, I have grown into a much more caring adult than second grader, and my sister has fared even better and walks without any external assistance. That kicking terror of a boy was never identified and is probably still kicking kindergartners left and right. Jerk.
Fast forward a couple decades and the same little sister is now celebrating some amazing milestones. Yesterday she heard her fetus’s heartbeat for the FIRST time (ahhhh!!!) and when I asked whether she cried and got all emotional she replied that such signs of weakness aren’t scheduled until the second trimester. How touching.
In other news, it’s her baby daddy’s birthday today (also known as “husband”) and I wish the whole family a fun night despite Kristen’s boring, socially-imposed, “ethical” sobriety streak. I’m sure they’re all celebrating somehow - wish I could be there!
Here’s me wishing the little whippersnapper a Merry Christmas. It appears that my right arm is inserted through Kristen’s body and giving the little munchkin a pat on the back. So be it! Our own fetal oven (“mother”) is the seated one.
