Thursday

Today I was telling a story to someone about how someone else snapped at me in a disturbing and unjustified way. About an hour later, the person I was talking to about it snapped at me in a slightly disturbing and unjustified way. It was just one sentence that bothered me. It was one of those statements directed toward me that involved the other person being impatient and annoyed with something I said, but based on a misunderstanding of the meaning of what I said. I didn't react, other than to say, "OK," but thought about it and tried to shake off a bad feeling. I hate talking about other people in a negative light, but sometimes it's necessary. I also hate bad feelings.
Hopefully I will feel better in the morning.
Last night I discovered that Amaretto combined with soy milk is one of the best drinks ever. It tastes like cream, honey and butterscotch, all caramelized, only much better. The only catch is that you have to be 21 to try it.

Projecting

When I read too much, I narrate my life in my head in between the times spent poring over a book.

"She approached the kitchen cabinet door to pull out her earthy coffee mug a friend had given her years ago."

"She anticipated the steaming, strong beverage that would soon be filling her mouth when the espresso machine had finished with its cacophonous roar."

When I was young and used to imagine that my life was a television show, I imagined it would be produced just like it was on The Love Boat, complete with the guest stars and actors in round windows when they're introduced in the opening credits. Of course, I would have been the only one who didn't know it was just a show, and they did a really good job hiding all those cameras. Sometimes I think that Jim Carrey was actually playing me in The Truman Show. Doesn't everyone?

Unwind in the Way You Know Best.

Has a person ever felt that he just can't take any more? That he snaps at the slightest slight or inconvenience? That person needs to recognize that it's simply a sign that the person needs a time-out. I know I have done so. And when I do, I feel a lot better. I feel even better knowing that I recognized when it was time. I might unintentionally or intentionally revisit this topic sometime. Ahhh, Friday. I feel glad that you are here with me.

Thursday

This evening I attended an open-house function for parents at school. Like the three other years I attended, I expected a visit to all the classrooms and with all the teachers. This year they decided to try a different format, which was to have parents choose one of six workshops, and to attend three of those workshops, most of them designed to help give parents tips about helping their children learn in school and at home. I was disappointed because I didn't get to go in the teachers' classrooms and hear them talk about each class my child is taking. I was disappointed because I didn't get to go home and make dinner for the family until 8:30 p.m. I was highly irritated that many of the materials passed out at the school to me today had glaring grammatical errors. I thought about how the principal told everyone he has an "open-door policy," which made me think about the time I told him about the problem with the compound modifier on the giant banner in the cafeteria; that the banner had a mistake on it, and that it should read "A People-Building Environment" instead of "A People Building Environment." Neither phrase makes much sense to me, but the idea of an environment that builds people makes more sense than "a people" building environment. When I told him, it clearly annoyed him that I thought there should be a hyphen on the banner, and I could tell he either wasn't comprehending what I was saying or didn't care (especially when I later noticed that nothing was done to correct the banner). He was dismissive and abrupt. I realize I told him during the lunch hour and he was very busy. But his reaction made me sorry I reached out. I thought about how I might be more successful flagging down an English teacher and asking him or her to change the banner, or at least debate with me about whether it is indeed a mistake. I keep telling myself it's such a minor issue, and I should just let it go, but then I think that a big banner in a school pinned up on the wall for everyone to see, every day, is going to make a difference. We get it drilled into our heads that a good education is so important, and I have come to believe that. So when I see an example of a statement that's supposed to be positive, and has been made into a giant display for all the students, and it has a common grammatical error in it, I think an injustice has occurred.

I Wasn't Finished

Today I wondered about whether there's a difference between interrupting someone and attempting to finish someone else's sentences. Whether someone interrupts me, or incorrectly attempts to finish a disturbing number of my sentences, the whole experience is draining because it requires extra patience with the person, and stamina for the energy it takes to maintain a coherent thought, stay focused, finish articulating a thought in its entirety and suffer through that annoyed feeling.
If someone wants to finish my sentence exactly the way I would've finished it, that can be gratifying and confirming, as if experiencing a miraculous-seeming coincidence when our intellects connect and we are one, momentarily.
If someone interrupts me once or twice (and I might get overanxious and interrupt the person I'm talking to), I expect that it's going to happen.
But the consistent interrupting and erroneous thought-finishing immediately makes me feel as if the person doesn't care about what I have to say, doesn't think my complete and finished thoughts are worth listening to, or arrogantly and wrongfully assumes the person already knows what I'm going to say and doesn't have the patience for me or interest in my thoughts to let me finish. Lately I've found myself resorting to such tactics as "let me finish," "just hold on a second," "what I'm trying to say is ..." "wait a minute" and "I wasn't finished." Sometimes it's not worth the energy or the time, and I just look at my watch.

Kenyan Cafe

Today was made into a pleasant day by a visit to the Kenyan Cafe. Upon entering, guests are ushered to the tea for samples. The owner greets you with a smile and offers to answer any questions. The stew is whisked out to you by a group of people so that everyone gets their food at once. We had goat stew, chicken stew, beef stew, and chicken curry with chapatis, kale and cabbage. The kale and cabbage were cooked perfectly, with the texture and flavor of partially cooked or steamed vegetables. The portions were exactly right, and we all left feeling great about the healthy food we ate, and without that heavy, overindulgent feeling one can get after eating at a restaurant. We were all happy when a large group of people entered the restaurant after we left. I hope the Kenyan Cafe sticks around for a long time. It's open every day and they have Wi-Fi access (much to the delight of the teenager in the group).

Saturday

Since the parking and traffic situation near my house is impossible when there's a football game going on (and there was a game going on), and I needed to buy some coffee beans, I decided to walk awhile to buy some at a coffee shop a few miles away. We left the house at 12:20; it was eerily quiet and cars were excessively parked all around, and tents and chairs were deserted. That's how I knew the game had started. Along the way, we encountered melted tar, sycamore bark, a shortcut, a shoe store, a friend we met, a pet store, a store with incense and lemonade, a yard sale and a playground. Four hours later, we arrived home.
About 2 p.m., I was curious about what was happening with the game, because I eventually saw groups of two to four people walking away from the stadium; all of them wearing the school colors (everyone except us). As we crossed paths with two of them, I thought they looked friendly, so I asked them, "What's going on with the game? Is it just too hot?" One guy said, "We're just too drunk." The other guy, carrying a bag of about six beer bottles, said, "Yeah, we're wasted." I guess it's my fault for asking; my fault for living in a university-dominated town; but I was walking with two 11-year-olds who probably did not need to hear their response. I started to wonder if all the people leaving early "were just too drunk." I thought a little bit about how the football games were about football, but so much more. Later on the 11 p.m. news, there was a local story about how the party atmosphere was so much under control, and about how it was more of a family environment than ever, and there is so much less drinking going on.
All in all, we saw a lot, got a lot of good exercise, fresh air and sunshine, and resolved that it was a good way to spend a Saturday afternoon.