You know your heart's not in the game when you only look up during commercial breaks. Let's talk about other stuff besides football. I've got a couple hours until Downton Abbey starts.
We've got a full slate of activity around these parts. Our weekends mostly involve basketball or wrestling, some church and making the rounds visiting friends, which is fine since we barely have any snow which makes winter a bummer. I wish I could pull on my cross country skis or snowshoes and head into the woods, but there's not much point. And it's been a bleak winter with so many overcast days. Thank goodness for yoga every Saturday and indoor exercise equipment.
I've been reading like a fiend. My English 12 students are about to start their science fiction unit and we have a half dozen young adult dystopian novels for their reading pleasure. Since they'll split into "book clubs" for this unit, I'm reading them all in case they have questions. I've got two left to read, but the last one I'll read along with my classes, so that gives me a little breathing room. In AP we're about to launch into Walden. You know how I feel about that. On the YA front, I recommend Legend by Marie Lu as my favorite so far. As a palate-cleanser between these depressing books I've got Jeeves and the Wedding Bells by Sebastian Faulks, really ripe stuff!
On a related note, we saw a lot of people pulled over by police this weekend while driving through town. I felt my gut clenching and began to worry that the police state is taking over, proof that reading too much dystopian lit. can increase paranoia.
When I'm not reading and planning the next chunk of curriculum, I'm grading papers in my spare time. Mr. T is learning to drive and we've spent some quality time together on the road. He's gradually getting the hang of braking and determining when to turn at an intersection and when to use his directional signal. I keep my mouth shut and only mention the occasional pointer (like, "You want to stay off the shoulder, that's for bikes and people on foot"). He's begun helping with dinner prep during the week, which adds to how much I value him. He's a crackerjack chef when it comes to meatballs and tacos.
We got a new bed. A real bed. An actual bed with a foot board and headboard all properly connected together and a brand new mattress. We used to have a metal frame with a flimsily attached headboard. If Mr. D or I rolled over, the other person felt the whole bed shake. The mattress was springless and offered no real support. It looked ugly and cheap and worse than that, it felt ugly and cheap. You know it's bad when you can't wait for one of the kids to be gone on a sleepover so you can take their mattress. Or get all excited about sleeping in a hotel because of the nice mattresses. So two weeks ago I grabbed husband and wallet and we drove to our furniture guy. Yeah, I have a guy for that, too. And his name is Guy. Guy had bought the clearance stock of a Canadian furniture company and had king-sized beds in his warehouse on sale. What we spent on our pretty new bed, we saved on not having to buy box springs. Can you believe that kind of luck? Now every night when I sit on this amazing bed I feel like a queen. The luxury of it!
That's not a picture of our actual bed, but it's pretty darn close. (I'm too lazy to get up and take a picture and upload it. Plus you know I'd never put tea on the bed where it would probably tip over and spill.) We even have two drawers in the foot board like you see above, which forced me to clean all the crap from under our original bed after this fancy new bed arrived. Then I get rid of a bunch of junk I'd been hoarding--old picture frames, old t-shirts, a sh*t-ton of karate belts, that kind of crap. The whole business resonated so deeply with reading Thoreau and "Economy." One of the two drawers is still empty as I type this. I plan to keep it that way.
A new bed, dystopian fiction, teen driver, economy. Spill it, reader. What's new in your neck of the woods?
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