The Battlefield Where the Girls Say I Love You



That's just the thing: we will never tell you we love you. In fact, we're here only to hold hands across state lines and yell at the world. We're here to try to touch you across this chasm of flown things. Not even that. At most, I will teach you how to make a gin smoothie when there's nothing left in the house. Hannah can teach you several languages and what to do when your car breaks up with you. Thanks for coming out.

Sunday, September 9, 2007

so tired, so blank, i can't even think of a title for this

what's good:

--when aaron got off the plane, i didn't recognize him. b/c he came out dressed as spiderman. wearing the mask, and dragging a spiderman suitcase.

--the kids love being here; not a shred of homesickness; and they give me no attitude--at all.

--today, we went shopping, fed ducks, ate mickey-mouse pancakes, threw a frisbee, made spaghetti together, rode a carousel, hung out on a playground, put puzzles together, drew and colored, ate kiwi for the 1st time, etc.

--they call Eric (who has so graciously picked us up from Myrtle Beach), the DRIVER. as in, What's your driver's name again?

what's awful:

--my conversations are not conversations. they're me saying things like, Ok honey, I know it's good, but you're getting spaghetti sauce and ground turkey all over the cat. at which point, Mamie will say desperately, EVERYTHING has changed.

--my father forgot to send the guardianship papers. Woops, he says over email, Must be getting old! yeah, woops. now, they're going to be home-schooled and so learn everything about proust and nothing about math.

god, this is boring isn't it? soon, i'll be discussing magnet schools. oh wait, here's something:

in the laguardia airport, we're holding up, oh, about 100 people at security bc the kids need me to explain to them WHY we have to take off our shoes. it's so quiet you could hear a pin drop--that dead, eerie quiet that comes from people about to riot. a woman, to break the tension, asks the kids where they're going.

they scream in unison, AMERICAAAA!!!

**thanks and apologies: eric, they freaking love you. thanks for being such an awesome(!) friend. i'd be rocking myself in the back yard right abt now otherwise. jacs, for the notes, the music. mame, for coming soon. to the h-g's for the puzzle (now they know where and what north carolina is). to mimosa, for drinking champagne and eating steak w. me. thanks to everyone else for calling, helping, saving.

apologies to everyone for not answering (bc i can't speak, i'm just drooling), for accepting, for needing it.

awesome, this is a year book entry. i'd like to give a shout out to robby--i never knew you too well, but thanks for makin' me laugh in miss layne's algebra class. to christie, kelly, and carla--BFF 4 EVA.

f*ck. goodnight. and yes i know, it's 850 pm.

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

no worries..i would give my snare arm to have a sis like you!....and you play tennis?! you're a dream!

Anonymous said...

Those kids are great and they couldn't be in better hands. A little of yesterday for your readers:

9:45 am
H: Stop running, use your inside voices and stop picking your nose.
Kids: CAN WE SKIP!? (In a sort of laughting/giggling way)

10:05 am
H: Stop running, use your inside voices and stop picking your nose.
Kids: CAN WE SKIP? (In a sort of laughting loudly/giggling way)

Unknown said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Anonymous said...

you are a rockstar and my hero.

daisy said...

I am still TOTALLY baffled. All I see is "the children" and then my eyes glaze over and then the entry ends with you going to bed.

(I'm just kidding, sort of. Just because I am scared of children doesn't mean I don't read your posts, but I still need a full explanation of things like "guardianship papers" as in - REALLY?!)

Finally, check out www.dooce.com

She writes super funny shit (I mean stuff, do the kids read the blog?) about her daughter.

Anonymous said...

accidental southern belle--i miss you. i miss the sunday special. the dollar stackers. and pool 101.

Anonymous said...

dais-- omg, say shit. every time they're out of my sights i turn into a sailor, and want nothing but alcohol. and more alcohol.

and sometimes i glaze over when i see the children, am dopey and wonder irritably who let their tiny humans go running about shrieking in my quiet and pretty house? the noises, dais, they're like monkey barks or something.