Outside my window… a damp, chilly evening.
I am thinking… maybe I should go ask the barista for a plastic bag so I can take my leftover chips home for the chooks.
From the classroom… a lot of pride. My kids are doing a great job with their activism unit in English II. They are wrapping up their first writing assignment for that project — a fact sheet designed to convince people to take their side of an issue — and they’ve really come up with some good stuff. I’m ridiculously proud of them, and I’m having a lot of fun helping them organize their notes and sift through information to find the bits that are most likely to sway others’ opinions. It’s fun to watch kids catch on to subtleties.
I am thankful for… good decaf cappuccino and a quiet place to drink it.
From the kitchen… noodles with a simple sauce of finely diced tomatoes, sauteed red onions, fresh herbs, and a little sour cream. I like it when I can throw together a good dinner out of whatever happens to be handy.
I am wearing… Webster sweatpants and my most comfortable Drillers shirt.
I am reading… The Physics of Baseball.
I am hoping… my new minimal-homework strategy works for my algebra kids.
I am creating… a pocket schedule for our baseball team.
I am praying… to express more humility. I let an irritating but probably well-meaning individual goad me into playing a stupid political game this week, and while I won quite handily, it was a hollow victory. The Father does not hand us gifts so we can use them to destroy other people in the name of feeding our own egos — even if the people in question seem to deserve it. To borrow a gamer term: There is no glory in gratuitous pwnage.
Around the house… a hyperactive cat. Which is part of the reason I spent most of the evening at a coffeehouse, grading papers without feline assistance.
One of my favorite things… my windowsill herb garden.
A few plans for the rest of the week… dinner at Yokozuna, a little lesson planning, and some desperately needed housecleaning.
These tumbleweeds were caught in a fence somewhere in the Texas Panhandle. I’m dreaming about tumbleweeds and Texas and all my favorite haunts from here to Tucumcari. I haven’t been out that direction since September, and I can feel it. I need to recharge my batteries. I need to spend a few days alone in the Dreamcar with my thoughts, my camera, and maybe my sketchbook. I need to curl up in a motel room in New Mexico with a copy of Science and Health and read until four o’clock in the morning. I need to stand on a lonely stretch of forgotten highway in the middle of nowhere and listen to the silent sound of Bob Waldmire’s laughter mingling with the songs of coyotes on the high desert wind. I need coconut cream pie and old friends and new adventures and miles and miles and miles of nothing but sky and mesa and aimless tumbleweeds.
I need a road trip.