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2 January 2001

  • Just watched High Fidelity with TJ. What a great movie! Think I'll read the book by Nick Hornby after I'm done with The Hobbit. Also rented Othello and Once Were Warriors on Meredith's recommendation. I want to do some sort of movie review/analysis paper with my 103 students but don't quite know how to go about it right now. I'll talk w/Halie and Matt and Meredith, etc. and come up with something. Need to redo my syllabus for Spring semester. Will do that when the kids go back to school--tomorrow. I'm going to miss them. It's been a good vacation.


    1 January 2001

    • Played at church last night. Didn't suck too bad, but definitely screwed up several notes. Now I remember why I don't do that anymore. I don't deserve the fifty bucks they said they'd pay me. I think I'll donate it to the school bleacher fund. One good thing about screwing up badly: They won't ask me to play again!

    • Liz, Pete, Donovan, and Kelsey were already here when Taylor and I got home from church. Taylor made fun of the way I played the piano all the way home. Not that I played the piano in the car on the way home. That was where she was making fun of me. [Meredith would know what sort of grammatical screw up I just made. It is always nice to know these things, but I don't care enough to fix them very often. My apologies.] Anyway, Taylor says that I'm such a bad player that I talk to myself while I play. I do talk to myself. I am always afraid that I won't play the right number of verses or something. She also said that I tilt my head to the side whenever I finish a song, and that I fling my arms up and down like the Phantom of the Opera. I didn't know she's seen Phantom. Let it be known that one's own children are not useful for boosting one's self-esteem. Take Meredith's info on her parent's sexuality, for instance. I'm not sure that making reference to the fact that one has sex is actually flaunting one's sexuality. It strikes me as just a healthy acknowledgement that sex is an important part of a human being's life. But I'm closer to being Meredith's parent's age, so perhaps this explains my perspective. I don't mind knowing that my parents have sex, and they're 60-ish. I wouldn't necessarily want to listen to them, or see their photos, but I'm glad to know that they're enjoying that sort of fun. My parents are repressed and inhibited, though, so that might account for my relief that they actually have sex. I was tempted to use some sort of slangy term like, "do the nasty," but decided against it.

      I've really gone quite far afield from my New Year's Eve account, however. I wanted to talk about Liz and Pete and Liz's kids. Nice people. Pete is Liz's boyfriend. Liz split from her husband a year ago. He's a nice man. He knows books, so I like talking to him. He has a sense of humor, too. He's about 8 yrs. younger than Liz. I'm not attracted to him, which is probably a good thing, but I'm intrigued by why Liz is. Attracted to him. He is decent, and her husband wasn't, so that counts for a lot. I hope she isn't rebounding, though.

      We had a decent time. The kids had fun together, and we all played Malarky for an hour before midnight. I was the best bullshitter, and won the game. My answers were never right, but contained just enough of the truth to make them plausible. I'm proud of myself for using the word "bullshit." One of my resolutions is to swear more in the coming year. I haven't done nearly enough swearing this past year. Not by a fu***ing longshot. Can I get thrown off here for swearing, I wonder? I just went back and censored a few letters. As if that keeps anyone from understanding.

      After the Gobles left, everyone went to bed but me. I stayed up until 3 A.M. downloading maudlin songs from Napster. I got some Chicago and Bread stuff. Ah, those were the good old songs from my youth. I'd sit in my room for hours contemplating death and listening to Bread. I'm over that now, though. Thank God for serotonin reuptake inhibitors. I should probably be more careful about what I say here now that I know at least Aimee reads my blog. She doesn't know why I don't get hit on by strangers, either. She says that I'm "all that and a bag of chips." It might be the chip thing. The extra calories go right to my thighs. Thanks, though, Aimee. Yer a pal.

      Damn, New Years makes me melancholy. Instead of facing a fresh twelve months with optimism, I have been moping around for what the past year lacked. Therapy fodder, I suppose.

      Anyway, I have been thoroughly decadent today. I lazed around in my pajamas until four or so. Colored my hair. Taylor thinks that is looks orange, that I missed an entire strip in the front, and she can still see my brown roots. I refer you back to my comment above about children and self-esteem.

      I hear the WWF announcer on the television in the other room. I still haven't had my date with Mr. Treadmill today. I cracked a fourteen minute mile yesterday. Pathetic, I know, but I'm old and overweight, so this really is quite an achievement. Wrestling is a really good thing to watch while working out. So are cartoons. Cartoon Network is the best, but I don't like Cow and Chicken or Alvin and the Chipmunks. I don't think those shows are on right now, and anyway, I have Stone Cold and the Rock tonight. I am so proud of myself for including more links in my blog today. All of Matt's intelligent links made me feel inadequate. I have link envy, I suppose.


      31 December 2000

      • 3:00 P.M. So I go into my bathroom to take a shower, and there are 15 Ni-Cad batteries charging on the sink. That's enough to power a chainsaw. It can't be for a S-E-X toy, can it? Is he getting that blatant? It sure is too much power for my stuff. One AA. That's all it takes to keep me happy. He's on his own.
        When Liz and I were coming out of the movies the other night, this nice looking young [teen] gentleman says to Liz, "Well hello there, ladies. How are you this evening?" It doesn't look the way it sounded. The kid was flirting with Liz. This is not the first time this has happened while we've been out together, and Liz says it happens to her a lot. She says she's a slut, but I don't think that's it. She isn't one at all, and doesn't look like one, either. Whatever a slut is supposed to look like. I don't like those evaluative kinds of terms. She's very pretty, but she's thirty-something, like me. So what is it? I wondered out loud to Liz why things like that never happen to me. She thinks it might be the Powerpuff Girl earmuffs I was wearing. Do you think that would be it? I suppose that it might be. The obvious answer is that I'm not attractive, but before I got hitched, men used to ask me out. Some. A few. Alright. One or maybe two, tops, and they were really wasted, but it happened. I didn't imagine it. So what's with now? Note: This is not a rhetorical question. I really want to know, so if anyone is reading this, please respond by e-mail. LJohnson530@hotmail.com I will post your responses, if you say it's okay.
        I've got to sear some beef and make a veggie tray for our little New Year's Eve soiree. I don't want to do this. I want to hide in my room and cry. I'm starting to think of resolutions. Never too early. I resolve never to take too many items into the express check-out at the grocery store ever again. I do think that duplicate items should count as one, though.
      • 12:30 P.M. Please let it be known that Steve asked for a garbage bag to [gasp] throw away some old shirts and shoes. I'm hyperventilating. Now I know the world is really coming to an end. Playing piano at church, and my husband throwing out old stuff. It's the end of the world as we know it, so to speak.


      30 December 2000 11:25 P.M.

      People who give children gift certificates for presents should be shot at dawn with no last meal or final cigarette. Took 2 kids to Old Navy at 9:30 A.M. so they could spend their Christmas present money. Anna had $75 to spend, and everything was on sale. It took a looong time to spend it all. Had to call home three times to talk to TJ about the new shirt she wanted in exchange for the sweater that didn't fit [but it really did]. I guess I like my clothes to fit loosely, not like a second skin. Call me silly. Or whatever you want. I answer to pretty much anything these days.

      Evan's gift certificate came from Toys R Us. His goal wasn't to buy something he really wanted, but rather to see how many different things he could buy for that amount of money. I think the dog has chewed up most of what he got. Lego pieces really hurt when you step on them in bare feet. I was exhausted by 11:30 A.M. Had to take a nap during the Indianapolis/Miami game. I still don't know who won, dammit.

      Tried to talk myself into reading a computer mag or two this afternoon. Can't bring myself to learn anything. I did practice my Greek yesterday, though. I have the first eight letters memorized in order. I'm not sure why I need to memorize them in a certain order. I can read most of the letters. Need the book to go any further than that.

      Practiced the piano for tomorrow night's service. What was I thinking? I'm out of practice and clumsy. Also, I'm becoming more and more heathen the older I get. I don't think playing the piano at one church service will atone for me, either. What if the roof opens up and the Hand of God descends on me like a hammer? The pastor could do the play-by-play: "And God delivers a stunning blow to the middle-aged lady playing the piano! That's gotta hurt!" Announcer 2: "No more hymn singing by this congregation, that's for sure! This might make the highlight film tonight!" Sigh.

      Prime rib is really expensive. The 15 pounder was over $75. Didn't buy it. Will have to go back tomorrow. Why did I say I would have people over for New Years eve? I suddenly want to go to bed and stay there for a few days. I'm not up to being friendly and cordial. It takes so much work! wah wah wah.

      I'm loving Napster! Never did get into it until McLean did. I d/l'd several Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young songs. Probably why I'm suddenly sad. Steve [old boyfriend] liked them. Wish he hadn't killed himself. Very much wish he hadn't done that. I miss knowing he is out there. Selfish. I'm too maudlin tonight. I'd just better stop writing.


      29 December 2000 10:20 A.M.

      Had the kids sit down to write thank you notes to Steve's family for their Christmas gifts. I don't know how this got started, but it is a real chore. Their notes are pretty funny, though. An excerpt:

      TJ: Grandma and Grandpa,
      Thank you for the trip to Florida, the money for the Gap, and those cute slippers, I really like them, and also for the underwear, and the beautiful sweater. [She got size 11 underwear. Definitely not her size. The things could sail a clipper ship, I think. What was my mother-out-law thinking? Anyway, I commend Taylor for her graciousness in the face of over-sized pantaloons.]

      McLean is creative, and I think she's been reading the thesaurus. Her contribution:
      Dear Uncle Mark, Aunt Deb, and Sarah,
      Thank you so much for the jewelry box. It is most certain I am using it. [She's been watching too much British telly, methinks.] Thanks all for the gift card.

      Anna's is the funniest, especially out of context, but I'll fill in the details. On Christmas Day, she broke a pottery vase at my mother-out-law's house. My mother-out-law went postal on her. It is replaceable and not even very expensive, but that didn't seem to matter. Anna was heartbroken that her grandma was so mad at her. We left early so Anna didn't have to mope around with grandma being so unforgiving about the whole incident. Finally, as we were leaving, my mother-out-law said, "Don't worry about the vase, Anna." Well, at least Anna knows we stick up for her. Anyway, her thank you went like this:
      Dear Grandma and Grandpa,
      Thank you for the Rugrats in Paris computer game and the gift card. I'm sorry I broke your pot. Anna

      Evan is a man of few words and few memories. He couldn't remember (or be bothered to remember) what his relatives got him for Christmas. His generic thank you that covers everything, no matter what time, place, etc.: Thank you for the presents. Done, Evan.
      The kid can't be bothered to write "Love," even. Who raised this guy? Certainly not me. I am not responsible for any of this. Nope. I refuse to take the blame. Won't do it.


      27 December 2000 10:50 P.M.

      So tired I can't even try to be funny. Vacation is going too fast. I'm eating too much, can't exercise enough. Saw the movie Family Man tonight with Liz. Boring movie. Stupid and predictible. However you spell it. Kids are being alright. Still waiting for the day where I can just laze around with nothing to do. Began The Hobbit last night. I like it so far. Took down some Christmas decorations, but can't figure out all the boxes and organization. Can't seem to organize my way out of a paper bag these days. Can't even organize my thoughts. Been thinking about writing some more, like I did for Dr. Bonomo's class, but don't even think I have thoughts to organize at this point in time.

      Have had two really odd dreams lately, and I remember them both. One: I'm combing my hair, and it all falls out onto the floor except for a small ring of hair around the bottom of my ears. In the dream, I'm terribly distraught about my hair falling out. My scalp looked like a Barbie doll scalp, with little clumps of hair sticking up. Dream two: I am sitting on a folding chair in a snow covered field along with a large group of people. A pastor is preaching to us, walking around the field in front of the seated crowd. A rabbit keeps zig zagging around behind the pastor, and it keeps getting closer and closer to the congregation. The pastor moves to try and block the rabbit from getting closer to the people, then the rabbit turns into a mouse/rat, and it runs up my leg onto my head and tries to get down inside the neck of my shirt. I wake up at that point squirming and trying to rid myself of the mouse/rat. What does it all mean????


      21 December 2000 7:40 P.M.

      Finally believing I will live. On antibiotics for sinus and ear infection. My eardrum ruptured sometime this week. I didn't even know it. McLean home from school sick today. Colder than hell outside.

      Let Taylor drive the car around the school parking lot today. We were both laughing so much she couldn't find the accelerator. Thought she was going to put us in a snowbank a couple times. She can use the brake well. I'm calling her "Whip."

      Got a bit of baking done so far. Sugar cookies are finished. Gingerbread man cake is baked. The kids can decorate everything. I'm not sure when, but sometime. TJ can tomorrow, maybe. Going to make the oatmeal pie tonight. Christmas cards aren't finished. They'll have to be Happy New Year cards.

      Got some great, exciting news from Halie today. I'm so glad for her. She deserves good things. School business keeps popping up. They don't pay me enough to keep messing with this stuff so close to the holidays. Ear hurts again. Time for more meds.


      Wednesday, 20 December 2000

      Something to add to the "Just doesn't make sense" list:

      A husband that tells you he'll, "Be glad to help any way I can," when you're sick, then in the next breath tells you to warm up the car before you drive the kids to school. He adds that your daughter can help with the laundry.

      Kids fighting about hair clips on the way to school. Not going to be a banner day. Must find unethical doctor to write Valium prescription.


      Tuesday, 19 December 8:15 P.M.

      Conversation of the day:

      Anna: Mom, do you shave the hair on your arms?
      Me: I shave the hair under my arms. Is that what you mean?
      Anna: No, I mean the hair on your this part of your arms. (She holds out her forearm) Why do I have so much hair on my arms?
      Mikki: You don't shave that hair. You get it waxed.
      Mom: You don't wax the hair on your arms. You leave it alone. People are hairy. There's nothing wrong with arm hair.
      Anna: None of the other girls in my class have hair on their arms.
      Me: I always knew there was something not quite right with them. They're all ALIENS! mwahahahahaha!
      Anna: (whining) Mom, that's not funny. I'll bet Cindy Crawford doesn't have hair on her arms.
      Mikki: She does, too. They just fix her pictures so she doesn't look like she has hair on her arms.

      Why do fourth graders worry about arm hair? Why do I feel guilty about her arm hair? Blasted genes. I'd like to cry, but feel like arm hair isn't something that should upset me that much. I think I'll drink a wee bit of the eggnog this evening.
      Leslie


      Tuesday, 19 December 2000 4:00 P.M.

      My day so far:

      1. Drive my kids to school at 8:00 A.M.
      2. Clean out car in school parking lot while waiting to go on field trip. Point of interest: Mini vans can hold a lot of candy wrappers.
      3. Drive five girls to the mall for a concert.
      4. Sneak away from chaperoning in order to finish Christmas shopping. I bagged a coat for TJ, a toy for Patrick, and some other sh--, stuff.
      5. Eat lunch in the food court with my "chaperonees" (those who are chaperoned). Every time I ask one of them a question, they stare blankly. Daughter keeps muttering, "Shut up, Mom. Shut up, Mom."
      6. Sneak home with my chaperonees to pick up Mikki's cheerleading uniform and a pair of gym shoes for Alyssa in case they have P.E. today. Alyssa is not my child, but she is wearing my shoes. This is my supreme act of generosity for the day. Pick up TJ from home (she's out of school for 2 weeks now) so we can Christmas shop some more.
      7. Drop chaperonees back at school. They're late, and their teacher wants to know where we've been. We all have detentions next week.
      8. See the pastor that is teaching Greek at the church and ask if I can get into the class that starts tonight. He thinks it's going to be too challenging for me, but I lie and tell him I'm a quick study.
      9. Receive phone call from the school while shopping at Barnes and Noble for a Greek book so I can start studying. Evan has a headache and wants to come home from school. I stall by telling them to give him a Tylenol. I still have to buy Steve's Christmas present.
      10. Buy Steve's present-- an MP3-CD player. Flirt with the pimply computer geeks at Best Buy. 'Tis the season. TJ won't talk to me.
      11. Drive back to Belvidere to get the kid who isn't really sick. He eats a bag of Reese's candy. His head feels better.
      12. Check e-mail. Have a letter from the student that plagiarized wanting to know what his grade is. Also an e-mail from the university. This never ends. Briefly wish that I'd passed him. Briefly wish that I wasn't a teaching assistant. Mostly wish I had a hot fudge sundae to eat while doing my e-mail.

      Going back to Belvidere now for the basketball game and Greek lesson. Should I say geek lesson?

      Leslie


      Tuesday, 19 December 7:15 A.M. I have evidently been elected as the official Toilet Paper Roll changer. No one else bothers.
      My pet peeve of the day: Husbands who only shovel their half of the driveway.
      I'm driving for a school field trip today so Mikki can sing at the mall. My word of advice: Don't ever buy a mini-van. Or a station wagon. Any car with more than two seats, as a matter of fact. You'll be asked to take your child's friends everywhere.
      Thought for the day: If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague. It will make you look profound and people will respect you. They won't like you, but they'll look up to you. Who needs to be liked? Leslie


      Monday, 18 December 1:15 P.M. Trying to figure out how to do this @#%#$%@ blog stuff. I'm getting a handle on it, I think. Guy IM'ing me for sex finally stopped. Can't figure out how to mess with the tables to enlarge the cells. Some other time. Leslie