Whew! What a weekend!

Although I miss having Saturdays to sleep in, I must say that staying busy always causes me to accomplish more. Friday night was filled with hesitant steps on the ice rink (I haven't been skating in at least three years), Saturday I woke up at the happy hour of 6 to take a student to Hazard, KY (a two+ hour drive each way; from all appearances, Hazard's not as crazy as everyone thinks), took a brisk, one hour walk, went to a friend's house for an international potluck, and then graded papers for nearly three hours at Coffee Times. Upon arriving home, I cleaned the kitchen and bathroom and fell into bed around 1:30. Sunday was church--I ran late, as usual, to first service--and then two girls from Asbury came over for lunch. We relaxed a bit, watched Raising Helen, and then it was back to the books for me until 11:00 or so. Good news: I finished grading a class of memoirs and made it half way through my creative writing stack, planned my Of Mice and Men unit, and came up with a contract for reading group.

Eternal Youth

I know this is a blessing in disguise, but I've heard this line one too many times: "You look like a student!" or, "Get back to class (ha ha ha)!" I've been trying very hard this week to look the part of a professional: I haven't worn my hair in any weird way, I've been wearing skirts, but you know, I can't help my height. Yes, folks, it's a fact of my life: I'm short. Can't do anything about that.

However, as long as people continue to make this comment as I grow older, I think I can manage. :-)

The Bluest Eye

"I don't think I could concentrate in your class. Your eyes are too beautiful." Or so said Coffee Guy tonight. I must admit, I was partially fishing for a compliment when I finally succumbed to the Kentucky Blue Bug. After pondering the idea for several weeks, I purchased my first University of Kentucky sweatshirt, a bit impulsively since I happened to be at the mall tonight, had forgotten my jacket, and walked by the Kentucky apparel store. In the back of my mind, I knew that the blue could only help my appearance since anything blue seems to bring out my eyes (of course, so does the mascara and the slightly tinted contacts--although the company tells me they're only tinted so they can be found when dropped--so it's not au natural). Anywho, it creates a bit of excitement to have someone notice me--or at least my eyes.

I saw my grandma today. Well, not really my grandma. But someone who I think would be just like her if she were alive: bubbly, vivacious, tall, thin, confident, smiling. I have these moments where random people or events will remind me of her, and I miss that I never had the chance to truly know her or for her to truly know me since her body was consumed by cancer when I was a freshman in high school. She was my first pen pal since she lived 800 miles away; we only saw my grandparents once a year. Every time I think of her, I see her throwing her head back to allow a great burst of gut laughter escape from her throat. Her laughter was sincere, and her whole body received a workout from one bit of humor--not only would she throw her head back, but she also slapped her knee and rocked back and forth a bit (not in a dementia sort of way, but a true, I'm-enjoying-this-moment-immensely kind of way), thin shoulders shaking the entire time. She would have loved to see her granddaughters grow up, to become the "fine young women" that she always told us we were becoming.

Like a Little Child

The little boy rests his head gently on his father's shoulder. Suddenly, his right leg swings back and forth; Father continues talking, hardly noticing the movement. Five tiny fingers slide around the man's neck, and calm ensues. Stillness. Rest. The thumb must taste like candy. His palm lies on his father's back, but his fingers pump up and down, giving his father comforting pats. Father returns the gesture unconsciously, laughing at the woman's comments while his thick fingers beat out a love song. Little Boy's large eyes roam the room, and settling on my attentive face, stare blatantly for several seconds before his lips slowly spread into a grin. Peek-a-boo! He stares out between the cracks of his hands, then around his father's neck. Is she still there?
I have to leave. I rise, grab my trash, toss it, and exit.

Some days I wish I could be a little kid again.