...it makes me proud, so proud of you/I see innocence shining through...
Yesterday was a dull and lifeless bowl of limp lettuce, punctuated by bits of deliciousness.
The lettuce represented my attitude, which was poor, though it had no reason to be so.
The weather is fine, fine. Unfortunately, I must spend it indoors, teaching most all of the day. However, the classes begin well, and then my mind is forever altered by an incident with a fifteen year old boy.
Before I fetch my children for our final theater class, I use a computer at the Center to generate a sample column and a cover letter. (My computer having stopped working without warning, I'm in the process of finding a solution that won't require me selling my soul or body.) When I emerge with the documents, I find BuddahPat hanging around in the office, chatting with the staff. He holds me long and hard- we've missed each other more than we knew. He promises dinner soon, soon, and we make a date for p.'s Opening Night, which is now tonight.
I drop the cover letter and sample column to a sweet faced editor at the oldest newspaper in the state, and she promises to call within 24 hours.
The little play we do for the parents of my Young Actors On Stage class goes very well, except for the bit about saying goodbye to my students. I get a little teary, as do some of the parents, which is sweet.
"I've never seen my mom hug anyone other than my grandma," Nicole says. I feel a clench in my chest, knowing that S. has become as fond of me as I have of her.
After a brief run home and a tasty encounter with an avacado, back I go to the Center for a meeting. The meeting is dull and painfully prolonged by bombasticity, but I survive. As I drive away, I notice Sergei and many lovely young ladies all in and around an odd, trailer-like structure. I wonder what it is, as I smile and wave back to Sergei. Perhaps I'll ask D. in the morning. Or perhaps not. A mystery is always so delicious.