••• Saturday, October 01, 2005

The Descent into Ordinary 

I'm outta my mind this week, with job pressures. I love my job. I hate feeling like I don't have the time to do it right. This year the number of kids on my caseload almost doubled, and I'm loving each and every one of them. Those kids are why I do this.

I also started the school year having to conduct two complicated evaluations (in speshul etchakation, it's a vital, legally prescribbled element of my job). I take my responsibilities very seriously and want my reports to not only accurately represent facts, but also have meaning for both the staff and family. So, I write and rewrite. I word, and reword. I ruminate on the rewrite. And rewrite the rumination. It takes over my brain.

Having the extra students under my watch, has cut into my usually protected rumination time, which means I'm bringing it home. I think it's taking a toll.

Thursday morning, I go to the garage and get into my car to go to work.
So I'm in the car. The door is shut. The key is in my hand. The ass is in the passenger seat.

And then there's the knitting.... I've been working on the back of that cardie. I get to the armhole shaping, and shape it up in a snap. Except I'm missing two stitches. I rip it out, shape it again, and still, I'm short.

So I do the math. 64 stitches minus 2x4, minus 4x2, minus...well, you get it. I'm still 2 stitches short.

Last night, after ripping it back once more, I get the brilliant notion to count the base stitches. 62. The exact number I cast on, per pattern instructions.

Last week, when I started this sweater, I initially thought to cast on 64 stitches, because I wanted to make it a little bigger. Then I changed my mind. I remember it now. But those two extra stitches kind of stuck to my head, like a booger on the wall.

Yeah. I'm rambling now. And no, I'm not making excuses for my lameass posts this week. And my pathetic attempt at comment mongering. ::Let's just all pretend I didn't go so far as to create a second blog...::

The Mutha Hood
Last week we took the Cakers to the zoo, where they have a temporary exhibit, celebrating the animals of Australia.

Truthfully, it was pretty lame. The sign said that the exhibit was being held over, due to popular demand. But I'm pretty much thinking that the bevy of bedraggled birds, rodents and reptiles have been abandoned by their owners, and the zoo people are just making good in a bad situation. But I digress.

The most interesting animals in this exhibit, were the wallabies. A momma, a daddy and a large baby. When we first came upon them, the baby was in the mother's pouch. Awww...how cute. Right? Well, no.

In the picture below, you might notice the size of the baby. Particularly in contrast to the pouch. That's one honkin'baby.

So, there sat the mother, her pouch flap flat on the ground, like the back gate of a semi trailer. Inside, sort of, was this huge-ass baby, trying to wrangle a good suckle angle. Obviously, the mom is uncomfortable, and adjusts her position, which causes the kid to tumble out. ::I was too dumbstruck by the scene to take a picture of that part::

The kid tries, once more, to climb inside, but again, tumbles out. Notice the mother's expression in both pictures, taken minutes apart. I know that look. And I know that why-don't-you-just-kill-me-now-and-drink-my-blood-then-have-my-worn-ass-carcass-made-into-doormat-upon-which-you-can-wipe-your-feet-on-daily-basis? feeling of motherhood.

The baby eventually tires of the repeated and unceremonious dumping by the mama, and briefly moves away. My empathic relief for that ma-marsupial was physically palpable.

Then, along comes daddy....

Ain't that just the way?
Sometimes it all just sucks.

Go Green

Well, gotta get ready for the big game. For today, we are a house divided. (If you're from Michigan (or nearby) you know what game of which I speak. If you're not from Michigan (or nearby) you probably don't care.)

::Actually, with this being such a hugely ass-holed U of M community, it would be an ideal time to go to the grocery store. And perhaps save my marriage the unnecessary strain, to boot. .::

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