It’s summer time…

It’s summer time, but my weird and wonderful interactions with children never seem to cease!

I spent the better part of today having a great time helping friends paint their new house. But when I was practically home, this wild child of a girl ran out in front of me as I was pulling into our parking lot. She smiled an apology, I smiled an ‘it’s alright.’

She found me again, bare-foot with her white-blond curls dancing in the wind, as I was walking into my building. “Do I know you?” she asked, hands on her hips. “No, I don’t think so,” I answered with a smile.

“You’re going to die tonight,” she stated. I tried not to look surprised. “You’re going to die tonight. I’ve been telling everyone that today, but no one believes me, but if they’ve been playing with the ouija board with me then they’re going to die, I know it.”

I think I said, “Oh, ok.” and then she ran away to play with her friends.

My Hero

The Daily Post: Daily Prompt – Who’s your hero? Tell us a story about why that person plays such an important role in your life.

My current unit, as many of you already know, is over “Beowulf,” but we’re reading Michael Crichton’s Eaters of the Dead first.  We’ve been talking a lot about monsters and heroes and I’ve assigned an essay for the students to write about their heroes.  So it’s only fair that I stumble upon this prompt and write about my heroes.

There was a time in my life when I only looked up to people who weren’t related to me, or at least, people who didn’t like my parents.  If you asked who I wanted to meet, dead or alive, when I was a teenager, I would’ve chosen historical figures, like Abraham Lincoln or Osceola or Sacagawea or Eleanor of Aquitaine. History consumed my life: articles, textbooks, documentaries, novels… there were worlds that were so different from my own, preferable even.

But now that I’m older, my grandparents have passed away, and my parents have retired and live far from me, I’ve come to value family more and more.  I guess the adage is true, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s moved away.  Because of this, I think, I respect my parents more than I ever dreamed possible.  We don’t talk that often, but I always go to them first when I have a crisis or need “life” advice.  Dad more so than Mom; not that she isn’t equally wise – she is! – but Dad is very direct, he cuts through the emotional garbage to the bare naked truth.  And I need this.  I can be extremely emotional.

For this reason and sundry others, Dad is my hero.  He doesn’t wear a cape and looks shockingly like a mountain man, but he has done everything in his power to be a good man, a good husband to my mother, and a good father to me and my siblings.

Today’s Commute

Dear Attractive Man in the White Sedan:

The gusto in which you gouged your nose gave me pause, but as the red light continued so that you could accomplish your goal, I could only be impressed by your perseverance. This dedication is a quality that must endear you to the ladies; however, I noticed you don’t wear a ring… Weird.

A Fellow Motorist

Where have all the socks gone?

♪♫ Where have all the socks gone? Long time passing… ♫♪

I don’t get it. I live in the tiniest apartment ever. Only one drawer – ONE DRAWER – contains socks. And yet, I am constantly finding only one freakin’ sock. One Sock! But I have two feet! Is there some elf or goblin or fantastical creature that sneaks around and steals one sock from every pair while my back is turned?!

Matching these buggers is for the birds.