Hello, old friend

Next week I am going to attempt to teach my fifth grade writing students how to write a memoir. One book I looked at suggested that you show them your own attempts a memoirs (one good, one bad). While writing a memoir might be an excellent diversion from writing progress reports (which is what I ought to be doing at this moment), I figured that one of my old blog entries might be able to pass, so I opened up that green page of Lucie's Travels and re-read some old posts.

It made me realize yet again what a luxury it was to not only have the means and opportunity to travel, but also the time to sit and think and write. I miss my old friend, Lucie's Travels and Travails. I stopped writing last year around the time that I started working more, not only because of lack of time, but because I figured most of the people who read my blog were people that I was interacting with daily, and they might not enjoy seeing a story about them (or worse, their child!) up on a screen. But now that I revisited the page for the first time in over a year, I am feeling a pang of nostalgia and almost a sense of loss over a pasttime that I really enjoyed.

Some reorganization might have to be done with my life and my schedule so that this can be a part of my present and my future and not just my past. This is way more fun than writing reports, that's for sure!

Animal in a Zoo

I am currently sitting in a little conference room in the library of the school where I used to work (stealing the internet, of course, as well as seeing people and generally making trouble). The room has a window to the hall. One of the third grade classes (the last group I taught, and one of my all-time favorite groups) just walked by on their way to science.

Only they didn't walk by. They stopped. They looked in the window at me. I smiled and waved. They stayed. They stared. I waved and smiled. They stood. They stared. The science teacher is a bit of a practical joker, so I suspected that he was behind this, especially since one of the girls, whom I had and I know that she always does EXACTLY what she is told to do, stood there, not blinking, not smiling, just staring at me.

Eventually the science teacher popped his head in a window with a big grin and a wave, but not until I had hollered at the children, "I feel like an animal in the zoo!" Please come see this rare specimen that we have over here, Homo sapiens sapiens Lucia, acting as she would in her natural environment...

Important Lessons

As I've mentioned quite a few times before, I am a teacher, and I just can't get away from that at times. So I took it upon myself this morning to teach Molly (age 11 days) her first really important lesson, something that every girl and woman should know as early as possible. (I wonder if, with the XX chromosome, we do just inherently know this.) On the computer screen was an advertisement for Tiffany and Co. I taught Molly about Tiffany Blue, and how she should ask for things that come in boxes of that color, please.

The last time I received something in that color I think was in 1993, but a girl can dream, as well as instill (totally reasonable) expectations in the next generation.

Failed Princess

Some may say that I have been a princess all my life (but I imagine them saying it in not a very nice tone of voice), but I am here to tell you that last night I failed the test, and I am definitely not a princess.

I am with my friend in Ithaca, helping out with baby #2 who arrived 8 days ago. I have been camped out on an air mattress in the living room of their tiny apartment. The mattress gets shoved behind the couch during the day and the room turns into the playroom for the two and a half year old. At night, the toys get put away, and I pull out my bedding. I've gotten used to sleeping on the air mattress, and, so long as it is inflated enough, it is actually fairly comfortable.

This morning, as I groggily put away the mattress before getting the older child ready for preschool, I saw that my wool clogs were still in the middle of the living room floor. I had plunked the mattress right on top of them and slept quite soundly.

I failed the Princess and the Slipper test. A princess I am not. Alas.

I wonder if I have to give back the tiara.

Deflated

I was driving back from the post office this afternoon (sending out Christmas cards, of course, because I am just that organized and anal--but only a few cards that needed to be air-mailed. I wouldn't want my friends over here to know how organized and anal I am. It's not like I already have all the envelopes addressed and am just waiting until it is a bit closer to the actual holiday to send them). I passed a house, the small front yard of which was completely filled with a variety of inflatable Christmas decorations (ornamentations? gaudiness? Not sure what those blow-up things are called), only none of them were blown up. They all lay, deflated, strewn about the lawn.

That family brought me quite a bit of joy, only not how they intended to, I suspect.

Up and Away... again

Staying true to my (new) self, after five weeks of being in one place, I packed up two weeks’ worth of clothes, gifts, and a pillow into a very small bag, and I boarded a plane this morning. I’m back in Ithaca NY, doing my duty as Best Friend and helping out as baby #2 is due to arrive pretty much at any moment. I’m sure this will be quite the experience for me, for my friend, and for her two-year-old. She warned me to pack my patience. Hopefully that didn’t get squeezed out of the bag by that extra pair of wool socks I added when I saw the weather report.

This morning I received a courtesy call from the Orbitz Customer Care department, three hours before my flight, to let me know that it was on time. If they really cared about me, they would know that three hours before a 7:20am flight is way too freaking early to be calling anyone, especially a woman who has already checked in, is checking no bags, and lives 20 minutes from the airport. I still had an hour and a half left to sleep, and I did not feel particularly cared for when my phone started buzzing, nor now, as I am still attempting to scrape the sandpaper from the inside of eyelids.

Maybe Orbitz was trying to get me ready for two weeks of being in a small apartment with a newborn. God, I hope that my earplugs didn’t get squeezed out by those socks.

Who Are You?

My horoscope today (not that I follow such nonsense, of course) said that "Sometimes you need to remind [others] of who you are..." Oh, how right it is! The question I have heard many times of late is "Who are you today?" I understand the question (having posed it myself many times to various substitute teachers), but it became funny to me when I actually started to think about it. The easy answer is Chris or Sally or whomever I am subbing for, but periodically I do wonder, Who AM I today?

Do we get a choice in the mornings as to who we will be? Can I be Oscar the Grouch one day, Snuffleupagus another, and Bert (probably closest to my real personality) the next? (Happy 40th, Sesame Street!) What are the factors that make me into one person or the other? Getting out of the bed on the wrong side? What outfit I put on? The alignment of the stars? Or the fact that the dog drooled on my once-clean trousers, someone took the last piece of bread, or I almost got run over crossing the street? Some days any of those events will put me under, and other days they earn nothing more than a shrug and a que sera sera. Can I switch my personality mid-day? (Copious amounts of chocolate seem to help me do that, for better or worse.) And do I have control over who I am each day?

Maybe the question I should ask myself is not "Who am I today," but rather "Who do I want to be today?" The next logical question I suppose would be, "What do I need to do to be that person?"

Tomorrow I think I'll be Halle Berry. I wonder what I will have to do to be her. Probably a lot of sit-ups and a padded bra.