It’s Wednesday again, folks. Not Wacky Wednesday with costumes. It’s whirlwind Wednesday. It’s almost Christmas and once again, I’m not ready. Like everyone I know, I have tons to do this month. Which does not explain why I crafted an antenna ornament for my car instead of chiseling away at the To Do list.
But sometimes the To Do list is overwhelming and you choose to let it be for an hour or two. This is actually a good idea because crafting lowers the blood pressure whereas endless December To Do lists send the BP skyrocketing! Plus, an antenna ornament helps you locate your car in a parking lot, when you can’t remember where you parked.
My final blog post of the year is going to be a mishmash of thoughts. Sometimes we just need to laugh about our misadventures. Here are a few random things from this whirlwind that is my life…
On my final day of teaching art this calendar year, some of the students finished their projects early so I let them have “free draw.” And here we have the latest in an ongoing list of Gender Differences. Boys interpret free draw as “make paper airplanes” and girls take the opportunity to write me love notes, which was a sweet surprise. The boys were told specifically to draw, and not to make paper airplanes. While I’m not usually a fan of gender stereotypes, I’ve observed in my own kids that boys do like moving toys and girls do like to talk. Hence, paper airplanes and love notes.
Anybody else out there have Christmas (or Hanukkah) Card Drama? I’m organized enough to have the relatives’ addresses saved so that I can easily print them up each December. But the list has been rearranged a lot over the years and it’s now a strange hodgepodge. It’s not alphabetical. It’s not grouped into categories like European Relatives and Local Friends. So when I scour the list for how many stamps we need for Europe and Canada, I’m really hunting. I’m checking my list and counting it
twice many times.
Or in the case of last week’s card drama, counting to twenty three at least ten
times in different ways. Where was the twenty-third envelope? I compared the
list with the number of envelopes. Twenty. Recounted again: twenty two. And
again: twenty one. Eventually I found the last envelope tucked inside another
envelope’s flap. But not before I screeched to Hubby that I was “never doing these cards again!” “Until
next year?” he asked. Er, yes.
Earlier this month I had a dream about my address. (What’s that? You’re nominating me for the (un)distinction of Most Boring Dream Ever? You have a point. But you don’t choose dreams the way you choose a tv show—they choose you.) Anyway, in my dream, I realized I’d been using the wrong address for our house—for more than fourteen years! I wondered how the post office knew to keep bringing us lots of junk mail—or any mail at all. And I could not believe I’d gotten my own address wrong for so long. How was this possible? I scanned the neighbor’s house numbers for clues. It was bewildering—wasn’t my address tattooed into my brain? Turns out it was tattooed in—wrong. Not sure what this means. Is it an Alice in Wonderland motif—where everything is not as it’s supposed to be? A metaphor for how unpredictable life is? Who knows. What a relief to wake up and see that my address matched what I thought it was.
Funny comment from one of my second grade students. During class, the second graders often ask lots of questions. They’re very into getting my approval before doing things—even before sharpening their pencils—so I’m expecting a question about art or shading or paper. But the student comes up to me and says in a very serious tone, “Mrs. Sarah, how did baby Jesus get out of Mary’s stomach in the stable?” I pause. For longer than usual. How do I answer? I don’t want to teach anatomy to seven year olds. Eventually, I tell her that it’s a very good question, and that I like how curious she is, but that we need to focus on finishing her art because it’s our last session of the year. Thankfully, she accepts this (non) explanation and resumes drawing.
Feeling extra grateful for friends, family, neighbors and teachers right now…
One recent morning I nearly fell off the toilet. Alcohol was not involved. But it was before seven a.m. and I wasn’t quite awake. Still, I’ve sat on that toilet for fourteen years-without falling off. I accused Hubby of sneaking into the bathroom at 3 a.m., during my deepest sleep cycle, and silently detaching the toilet from the floor and moving it one inch west. He admitted it and said that this is when he does all his secret work. Busted.
Folks, I told you it would be a mix of this and that—and I was not lying.
On that note, a happy, healthy new year to everyone out there…