It wasn't a healthy line of questioning, so I deleted the words, pulled up some poems in progress, did some things offline, lived, sorted, thought about cleaning (ahahahahahaha!).
The wall is imaginary. It is made of pollen and insomnia and insecurity. I can blow it away with an asthmatic breath or scrub through it with a Mr. Clean magic eraser.
In two hours or so, I give myself to the Band Boosters for a few hours of volunteering. It's time for the annual band picnic that kicks off the 2012-2013 marching season. I'm helping with either food service or volunteer sign-up sheets. My Girl is now a band senior, and she and her classmates are taking their jobs as leaders seriously. They will take the freshmen under their capable wings and keep the other underclassmen in line.
Fundraisers (waffle wagon, waffle wagon, waffle wagon)
I reformatted and printed off all the sign-up sheets for parent volunteers.
I'm thinking I need to keep my name off all those lists.
Packet of poems for my summer residency is due June 24. I haven't written a single new poem since April. Need no fewer than 10 pages worth.
(Will I ever write another new poem?)
My Girl went to Cedar Point with the Key Club yesterday, parked her car in the high school parking lot, came back to this:
She had made a comment a couple of days ago claiming she wouldn't notice if a friend had put sticky notes all over her body. Since she was out of town, but her car wasn't, the friend decided to try to make her notice.
I love these wicked teenagers. Love them.