- Owen needs glasses. I suspected as much when I caught him closing one eye trying to focus while reading a book.
- We had to turn on the air conditioning yesterday.
- Weird kids in Cole’s class have started trying to hug me all the time. It is yuck.
- We spent last weekend in Tucson. Henson boy taught the boys to play chess. It is all they do now. I am not exaggerating. I dislike playing chess. I dislike talking about chess even more.
- I have really fat arms I’ve noticed lately, like more fat than my already fat rest of self.
- It is halfway through the semester and I still really like my students. Things are going super well. I’m sure it has nothing to do with me feeling ten thousand times better than I did last semester.
- My girl Addison (7.9 years) made me a complex bracelet with her Rainbow Loom so now I am one of the cool people.
I read The Yellow Birds even though I’m not so much into war books and it blew me away. Very very good. Serious writing skills. The author has a book of poetry coming out in April and I was surprised, again, by how much I liked the sample poem I read in a magazine. Again, not generally my cup of tea, but strong and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I know that many of my readers, including my mama, are not big poetry fans. Read it anyway.
By Kevin Powers
Think not of battles, but rather after,
when the tremor in your right leg
becomes a shake you cannot stop, when the burned man’s
tendoned cheeks are locked into a scream that,
before you sank the bullet in his brain to end it,
had been quite loud. Think of how he still seems to scream.
Think of not caring. Call this “relief.”
Think heat waves rising from the dust.
Think days of rest, how the sergeant lays
the .22 into your palm and says the dogs
outside the wire have become a threat
to good order and to discipline:
some boys have taken them as pets, they spread
disease, they bit a colonel preening for a T.V. crew.
Think of afternoons in the t-shirts and shorts,
the unending sun, the bite of sweat in eyes.
Think of missing so often it becomes absurd.
Think quick pop, yelp, then puckered fur.
Think skinny ribs. Think smell.
Think almost reaching grief, but
not quite getting there.
One of the most fun shows of all time from our good friends across the pond is Hustle. Todd is a mysterious computer pirate so we have seen all EIGHT wonderful (short) seasons. But until now, normal North American folks could only watch four seasons. For some reason the rest weren’t available on dvd.
Then I was with my Lara girl who has Hulu Plus (less than $10 a month). AND THEY HAVE HUSTLE! ALL OF IT!
You should be excited right now. If you are reading, I promise that you will like the show. Really. PROMISE. No one, unless you are stupid and horrible, will dislike it. I’m so in love with so many of the people on the show. Serious love. I’m pretty much planning the month of June to be my re-watch month when it is too hot to breathe outside.
I visited someone on bedrest last week, thinking she must be bored out of her mind. Maybe she has literally lost her mind because I don’t know how else to explain her super tackiness.
Person: How is Owen’s health?
Me: He’s great. Hasn’t had a seizure since the summer and has gotten insanely smart since he stopped taking meds. We’re hoping he grew out of it. (details about how this really happens)
Person: Well, that’s great but…My cousin has epilepsy and she only had absence seizures forever and took medication and it wasn’t a big deal. Then a few years ago she had a massive seizure and forgot everyone and was in the hospital for like a week. So you never know.
In case you were unsure, this is not helpful. If you have a friend diagnosed with diabetes, perhaps it isn’t best to tell her horror stories about your drug addict brother and the complications of diabetes that he has. True? Yes. Helpful? No.
So now, in addition to the horribly named Sudden Unexpected Death in Epilepsy (really) I can worry about amnesia. And, in case you want to defend her, yes I know that I need to be prepared for the true fact that I can never think Owen has grown out of seizures. You can go decades with nothing and then they come back. But. FOR THE LOVE.
My rant has now ended.
I applied for two writer residencies. I have a very limited schedule of availability (July basically) which happens to be the most popular time for such ventures. But I persist. I apply to one every year…and get rejected.
I’m equally scared of getting accepted and getting rejected. That’s weird huh?
I also love Sara B’s song Brave even though everyone likes it. I don’t care. It is a nice song. The video is pretty rad as well.