I have been curled up on the couch for the better part of Saturday morning watching Ted Kennedy’s funeral. It is a spectacle of American history, the closest thing we have to royalty here, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the screen. A grouping of all the living presidents sat on the right side and the Kennedy family clustered along rows on the left. The cathedral was beautiful and grand with marbled floors and flying buttresses adorning the soaring ceilings. Music wafted through the great hall from choirs and Yo Yo Ma, and the strains of America the Beautiful accompanied the casket on the way out.
This was the week that would never end. It started off with a bang, or more literally, with a punch to the mouth. Now it was administered by a small five year old who had the nerve to grin like a little angel while he did it, but it hurt like hell! This was swiftly followed by being pinched, kicked and slapped by another little man who was miffed about not being able to color. The coup de grace? Standing next to a little girl as she pulled me over to her and threw up at my feet. Most people would throw in the towel and just stay in bed for a few days to sulk, or file workman’s comp, but not me. It had to be the working for practically free fabulous pay and cramped semi-closet spacious corner office suite that brings me back day after day for more of this punishment I like to call “work”.
I love the hours between the time you buy a lottery ticket and the time the winning numbers are called. Those delicious hours allow moments to daydream. The Powerball lottery was up to some ridiculous amount last night, over 300 million, and the media was whipped into a frenzy. I bought into the fun and stopped at the counter in Publix last night to get a quick pick. The clerk was surprised that I only bought one, but that’s all it takes, right? I smiled as I walked out the door, holding the future in my hand and wondering what would I do with all the money?
I got an email yesterday from an old friend who moved away from Atlanta years ago. She caught me up on her life and her kids and then mentioned she is now divorced. This is the third person I have talked to in the past two weeks who is going through this and I always feel so sad when they share their news with me. I have been divorced for a while, and I have gained a little perspective on marriage and divorce in the ensuing years.
She has beautiful blue eyes, gold ringlets and the sweet face of a six year old with just a hint of baby left to her. I know all about her brother and sister, her parents who moved to Phoenix to pastor a church, and her love of Disney. I hear details of her life every day, but we haven’t ever met. I heard about Kate through a friend on facebook and follow her life on caringbridge.org. If you haven’t heard of this site, odds are you probably will, because it is a blog for families who are going through medical crisis.
A friend of mine at work pulled me over to her yesterday to ask me a “quick question”. The hair on the back of my neck stood up slightly, not because she is scary, but because of the tone of her voice and the smirk on her face. “Hey I was in Kroger the other night, and I ran into this single dad from football….” she began. What aisle was he on? I don’t remember seeing any endcaps in the store with that advertised and believe me, I have looked, but I digress. She went on to describe him and thought she would test the waters before pursuing this idea further. I laughed and told her sure, I was up for more adventure, so keep me in the loop.
I spotted an article online the other day that carried a dire warning for the US. No, it wasn’t the threat of nuclear war, healthcare reform or a release party for Paris Hilton’s newest album. It was much worse. There is apparently a sugar crisis on the horizon. Oh yes, start stockpiling Hershey bars, Krispy Kremes and your Lucky Charms people!
I got invited to a surprise birthday party for a long time friend of mine Saturday night. The tongue in cheek evite deemed it a “road kill” party with a hillbilly theme at my friend Pete’s “shack” (which btw was none too shack-like with it’s amazing flagstone pool and party house complete with flat screen tvs and a built in bar). It was a beautiful night to celebrate with friends and I got a chance to catch up with people I haven’t seen in a while.
I noticed a fine layer of dust covering my high heels and some small tumbleweeds rolling by my “going out” dresses in the closet. They hang there mocking me like ghosts of date nights past. It’s been two years since I have been on a date, and not even a good date, just a date. The thought hit me the other day like a sucker punch as another adorable 20 something teacher announced her engagement at school. I am so happy for her good news and her feet have not quite touched the ground yet, just as it should be, but a little sadness washed over me. I couldn’t figure it out at first and then it dawned on me that relationships have been off my radar. Two years off the radar.
They make leashes for children, so why not muzzles for parents? No, this is not the brainchild of a teenager who is clearly appalled by either parent even breathing within a mile of them. It is a thought that I entertained the other night while at football practice with my ten year old. I was sitting in the bleachers, feverishly working on my school schedule for my students and muttering obscenities under my breath as I erased for the fourteenth time, when I was jolted back to reality.