A long string of weirdness...

***The Cave Troll is 5 today (11/15)--tomorrow I will do a big gushy B-Day post, but today, let me leave you with this.

A young man in my 3rd period came into class with a lot of balloons yesterday. He is handsome, quiet, and subversive--he talks quietly a lot because he's done with his work about three or four light years before the other students, but he doesn't raise his hand because he doesn't like a lot of attention. He came up to my desk to offer me a brownie, and I said, "Heya, Ter--what's with all the balloons, is the fourteenth your birthday?"

Ter flashed a couple of killer dimples and said, "No, it's not today, it's tomorrow--the fifteenth."

Aha! I thought. There IS something special about the fifteenth of November--if nothing else, it seems to produce a lot of kids with gorgeous brown eyes and a killer set of dimples!

***I managed to finish a pair of socks today--huzzah! Only six or seven more projects to complete before I feel as though I've won at Christmas. Julie will be so proud!

***Chicken's last regular season game happened today. It was a tie--hey, that's the closest thing to a win we've seen all year!

***I got my last Harry Potter reserved sock yarn--it's in the Harry & Ron colorway, which I chose instead of Harry all by himself. You all know me--Harry Potter isn't nearly as good by himself as he is with his friends--I believe that.

***Needletart, bless her bless her bless her, finished her SECOND round of editing on Bitter Moon II. Of course, I can't open the attachment now, but that hasn't stopped me. With her notes in mind, I've actually OPENED that file on my computer and started to read the damn thing again, and I've noticed two things:

A. I'm picking up on a whole lot of errors I missed beforehand. With any luck, by the time I open Bonnie's attachment, between the two of us, we will have covered all the problem spots--yippee!!

B. (And may the Goddess not strike me down for hubris here) It's very good. This one hurt--you all know that. It hurt, it ripped my heart out and then I revised it and that ripped my heart out and then I edited it and that about killed me and it just plain old fucking hurt. But on my umpteenth read-through, with a little space between me and all that angsty pain, it's good. Could very well be the best thing I've ever written. Could be the worst, too, but I don't think so. I think the pain made it special, and isn't that a kick in the ass.

***I tried twice to mail a package to Canada today. I failed because why? Because I'm a lame-o dipshit, that's why. I copied the damned Canadian zip-code wrong, and I deserve to have to make a third trip to the damned post office. FUcking H. Seriously--that's all it came down to, one lousy fucking H.

*** (Some of you have heard this before--I just couldn't let it sit in my private e-mail.)

The following message went out on our staff e-mail this week regarding a student's cumulative file folder:

Re: Jane Smith-- If anyone has her cum please send it to the office.

Uhm, you do NOT want to know what a bunch of emotionally immature English teachers did with that e-mail. But I bet you can guess.

***I went shopping for the Cave Troll's toy today, for his birthday. One of the things that came into my hands as a serious contemplation, was a big Batman wingspan with a mask and gauntlets and everything. I almost got it. I'd picked up the rather large package and was visualizing the Cave Troll trying to maneuver our small house with his five-foot wingspan and hearing him screech "I'm Batman!" at the top of his little voice and loving it! And then I saw the fine print: This is not a flying toy.

Picture, if you will, a little cartoon thought-bubble, going up above my head: The Cave Troll, Batman wings extended, plopping off the roof of the house like surprised cannon shot.

Very carefully, I put the toy back and got him something else instead.

And that's all folks--I'll be back tomorrow with Cave Troll pictures!