Of Course I Went.
And now...


Which is pretty damn cool.

But not nearly as damn cool as this guy, who I'd rank up there as 1 in a million, plus a few hundred thou, give or take.



What's he like? Classy, down-to-Earth, authentic, gentle, handsome and looks completely dignified with a lamp dome stuck to the side of his head. He was also wearing some sick boots, which I can't believe I forgot to photograph.

As for me, I'm not that impressed with that double chin action I got going. ::Why do I never see this when I look in the mirror?::

The afternoon wasn't all about the aggrandizement of self. There was also a little aggrandizement of stash.

This is Lorna's Shepard Pie. Or something.



And Schaefer's Anne.



I also spent a couple of hours knitting and, once again, basking in the collective neuroses glorious company of these fine speciwomen:

She Whose Stink Does Not Stink


Gramma Who Can Burp a Frat Brother to Shame


Kel was also in the house, but working. Really hard. And efficiently. And Assistantly Managerial. /plug.

On a Somber Note
One of our students was killed in a car accident yesterday, right around the time I was leaving Threadbear. The roads were a bit dicey at both the beginning and end of my trip home, so I was already feeling skittish and vulnerable when I received the call that the cri*sis team was convening 6:30 Monday morning.

Cabana was away on a snowboard weekend, so I was in a lonely, scared spot for awhile last night. I worried about the current whereabouts of my own son, then thought about a mother whom I've never met, whose life as she knew it ended just a few hours earlier, while I was still smiling from the afternoon's adventures.

With Cabana out of town, Cakers and I had a lot of one-on-one time today. We went to breakfast and grocery shopping. Then she played outside while I put a meal in the crockpot. As I went through these typical weekend mom-chores, especially picking out Cakers' favorite treats at the grocery store, that other mother remained in my thoughts.

I've already started preparing for tomorrow; running through the drill, bracing myself emotionally, while piecing together my best game brain.

I've been in this job for 13 years, and still do not feel adequate in the role of cri*sis/grief coun*selor. I'm sure this is because I don't often practice in this area.

Truth be, it's a skill in which I prefer to remain inexpert.

Now everybody, go hug somebody.

Labels: Sundry Sunday