Time Keeps On Slippin'

Or in this case, moving backwards. How is it possible that the SCM left for lunch over two hours ago, but according to the clock on my desk, only FIFTEEN minutes have gone by? FIFTEEN MINUTES? Not possible, I think.

Okay, so it was an interesting morning at home today. K must have gotten up at five or so, but I never saw her at all until I was all done and ready, which was maybe 6:30. I called upstairs just to make sure she was awake -- foolish, foolish me -- and I got the exasperated "WHAT?" in response, so, okay. For the ten minutes that she was in the kitchen before I left, she was not fit for human conversation, so I didn't make any. She was so anxious, poor thing, about her first day at the school where she'll be student teaching. And it's not like she hasn't put in full days substituting before, but this is different. I won't see her until after her class tonight, by which time she should be good and worn out, but I hope, conversational, because I really do want to hear all about her day.

You may or may not remember my quest a couple of years ago to gather posters for the library walls. Well, last spring I learned about a grant that nearly anyone in a school could apply for, which I did and got, and today I received nice big laminated posters of American art, along with a book that helps teachers use them in their classes. I am very psyched, but now I need to figure out how to get them all hung up on the cinderblock walls. I'd like to put them up, each with one of the questions from the teacher's guide next to it. A nice big project that takes time and thought and will really make a noticeable change in the library. Cool.

Oh, Art! I couldn't leave a comment at your site for some reason, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Speaking of time, I was thinking the other day, If I had a time machine, where/when would I go? Not that I'm getting a time machine, of course, but this thought has occurred to me one or twelve times over the years. I always thought that I would go back and spend more time with my grandparents. (More on that in a minute.) But when it buzzed through my head the other day, I thought, Hey, go back to like maybe 1972 -- nineteen was a very good year for me -- and tell me to take better care of myself! I would tell me to exercise, or walk every day, or really, do those Kegel things (you know what those are, ladies), and kick junk food out of my diet then because one day I would just break out in fat, and while I'm at it, don't start smoking, and have a glass of wine with dinner from time to time. And use sunscreen, because there's this atmospheric problem looming on the horizon and we're all gonna get skin cancer if we don't watch out.

Odd thoughts drift through my head as I'm trying to fall asleep, which I suppose is common, but yesterday when I was off, I put my head down to take a nap in the afternoon and all of a sudden, playing through my head as if I had just put the record on, I heard Mary Martin as Peter Pan singing to Wendy, Michael, and Jane: Think. Lovely. Thoughts! Which is what she said after she sprinkled the fairy dust on them and they had to think lovely thoughts to fly, and they said things like candy! and other inconsequential things and then Mary/Peter says "Lovelier thoughts, Michael!" and he beams "Christmas!" and he goes up in the air. So I heard Think. Lovely. Thoughts! and Lovelier thoughts! and I heard my own answers:

Grampa
Parvin
Main Street
Epcot

My first lovely thought is always Grampa Sam, whose mother I wrote about the other day, so I guess he's very fresh in my mind. If there is indeed a heaven, his will be the first face I see when I get there. I could go on and on, but, you know.

Parvin is Parvin State Park in South Jersey, near Vineland. When the kids were small, we went there for vacation, rented a little cabin and otherwise were out in the woods. I think we went four times. It was very peaceful and pleasant there, in many ways. One afternoon there, I was lying on a lounge chair while the Hubs was someplace off with the girls, who were quite little then, and I thought "This is my happy place." It was pre-brain surgery. The year I had the surgery was the year we stopped going.

Main Street, of course, is in the Magic Kingdom at DisneyWorld. When I go through the gates and then I'm on Main Street, it's like I'm filled up with happy.

Epcot. I've probably told this before, but there's a nondescript place just outside the Epcot turnstiles that is special to the Sibs and me. When we went there after my brain surgery, which was also after she'd been through all kinds of stuff, we went to Epcot first, and at this particular spot we both looked at each other and realized that we were thinking the same thing: we made it, we're okay, we're alive, we're really here. I've told my kids that it's where I want them to scatter my ashes, although that probably breaks a million laws.

It's 1:25 now, so time did move some. I'm back from lunch, and about to start going through all my neat art posters.

Later. I went to a site to see what my Palin family name would be. It's Claw. I'm just saying.

I am looking forward to the debate tonight, but really, anything could happen. I keep seeing more bits and pieces of Palin's interview with Katie Couric, and they are nothing if not intriguing. Well, let's save comment on this until tomorrow, eh?

Oh, I miscounted yesterday; I've voted in 10 presidential elections. Which makes my winning percentage worse. Help a pal out, wouldja?

WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS :: ENTRY #1869
READING: Welcome to the World, Baby Girl! by Fannie Flagg