ramblings

I am thinking about a lot of things. Things I want to say. Things I want to write about. Transracial adoption is on my mind. So is parental involvement in education. See the spanking conversation over on cocoamamas.

I gotta get my body in shape. I have things to do and need energy to do them. Many days I feel like I only have 10 good hours in me. Maybe only 9. I need to get that up. Sleeping 14 hours a day is not the business. And I’m not even comfortable while I sleep. My body is in need of something that it doesn’t have right now, and I don’t know what it is.

My three year old is complaining about her stomach. And generally being uncooperative. This worries me; she is known to have an iron stomach, and these multiple days of stomach aches are very much unlike her. But she’s also very, shall I say, cunning. She is hip to the game. She told me today that her stomach hurt when eating the granola bar (she’d asked for) but not the cornbread (she wanted.) I don’t know what to do with all of this. Which is it: chronic real stomachache or chronic real trying-to-get-over?

I gave up alcohol for lent. Really, I did it. I will admit to a glass of wine the Friday of my birthday-and-dissertation-proposal-defense-week. But other than that, I’ve been on the wagon. Truth be told, I can’t say that it feels good. It doesn’t. I mean, I could use a glass of wine right now. But that’s sacrifice, the way I’ve defined it. Thank God I’m here to be able to do it.

My aunt passed last week, my funny, generous, wonderful aunt. I cried during the services, realizing that my tears were all selfish tears, tears of I-will-never-be-able-to-experience-my-aunt-again self pity. Those tears threaten to overcome me every now and then, but I remember something I overheard my grandmother say on Tuesday. She was saying that my aunt, her sister, was her best friend, but she knew that she was in heaven, just surveying the place, waiting for my grandmother to join her. It’s a bit morbid, because I don’t want to think about my grandmother dying, but a bit lovely to think of my aunt, no longer in pain, waiting for the rest of us, getting heaven ready.

Despite what appeared to me to be a snowstorm as I traveled from the east coast to the west coast yesterday and was laid over in Prince’s place, apparently snow does not stop airplanes in Minneapolis. I was scared to DEFFF to take off for my flight back home, but the Minnesotans was like, this snow ISH ain’t nothing. The airplane rep looked at me like I was crazy when I asked if we were really going to take off in that mess. The only thing that held us up was the line to the de-icers. Wildness.

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