Last Day of July
There are 100 days until the mid-term elections and I predict that every single day between now and then I will receive 412 emails from high-level Democrats, asking me for money. I feel special.
Today, speaking of feeling special, I will be in the same vast room as Bill Clinton. That will be very exciting. (And no, I won't photoshop myself into a picture with him. I'll take a little, tiny digital snap from clear across the room, just like I did with Hillary). I heard President Clinton speak once before, when he was running for election. It was down at the Pike Place Market, it was raining and it was one of the most electric events I've ever attended. I remember walking away thinking, "I just heard the next President of the United States". He is a forceful, charasmatic speaker. He's the sort of guy who either had to get into politics or become a tv evangelist. And I miss him. Sigh.
As you know, I tend to worry a lot about The Child academically and for good reason. But much as I'm justified, the fact remains that this is her responsibility and there is, increasingly, only so much I can do.
She has a summer assignment to read and report on 3 books. We worked out a schedule of reading and writing that has her getting everything done by the 2nd to last week of August, giving her 3 full weeks before school without any academic responsibilites. So far, she's on pace. I told her yesterday, however, that she would need to devote her morning to academic pursuits, knowing that in my absence this afternoon she would likely be playing on the computer or watching television.
I just went in to check on her and she's not up yet. But she was sitting in her bed, going through the Box of Academic Achievement. Early last year she decorated a shoe box and anytime she brought home a 'no missing assignments reward' or a good grade the paper was ceremoniously installed in the Box. When I found her this morning she said she was "reviewing" and then said, "And when I'm done, I'd like to get rid of all of this to make room in the Box for next year". I said that would be fine and then she asked, "Do you think we could burn all these?"
"Ah," I said, "sort of like saying 'that's behind me, now I'm going forward?'"
"Exactly," she said.
Yet another sign, perhaps, that she's ready to take responsibility for her grades next year? Maybe. But who doesn't like ritual bonfires? I must go find some matches and dust off the Ceremonial Headdress.
Today, speaking of feeling special, I will be in the same vast room as Bill Clinton. That will be very exciting. (And no, I won't photoshop myself into a picture with him. I'll take a little, tiny digital snap from clear across the room, just like I did with Hillary). I heard President Clinton speak once before, when he was running for election. It was down at the Pike Place Market, it was raining and it was one of the most electric events I've ever attended. I remember walking away thinking, "I just heard the next President of the United States". He is a forceful, charasmatic speaker. He's the sort of guy who either had to get into politics or become a tv evangelist. And I miss him. Sigh.
As you know, I tend to worry a lot about The Child academically and for good reason. But much as I'm justified, the fact remains that this is her responsibility and there is, increasingly, only so much I can do.
She has a summer assignment to read and report on 3 books. We worked out a schedule of reading and writing that has her getting everything done by the 2nd to last week of August, giving her 3 full weeks before school without any academic responsibilites. So far, she's on pace. I told her yesterday, however, that she would need to devote her morning to academic pursuits, knowing that in my absence this afternoon she would likely be playing on the computer or watching television.
I just went in to check on her and she's not up yet. But she was sitting in her bed, going through the Box of Academic Achievement. Early last year she decorated a shoe box and anytime she brought home a 'no missing assignments reward' or a good grade the paper was ceremoniously installed in the Box. When I found her this morning she said she was "reviewing" and then said, "And when I'm done, I'd like to get rid of all of this to make room in the Box for next year". I said that would be fine and then she asked, "Do you think we could burn all these?"
"Ah," I said, "sort of like saying 'that's behind me, now I'm going forward?'"
"Exactly," she said.
Yet another sign, perhaps, that she's ready to take responsibility for her grades next year? Maybe. But who doesn't like ritual bonfires? I must go find some matches and dust off the Ceremonial Headdress.
Labels: 412
cobbled together by Moi at 10:14 AM
11 Comments:
Love the new picture. I think if you show that to Bill Clinton he'll be more than happy to pose with you.
My kiddies have a hard time getting a lot of times but I haven't figured out how to fix it yet. Since it's summer I've kinda let it go for now...
My kiddies have a hard time getting motivated ~ as it were
Bonfires. Oh my. The Cardinal has to be sooo careful about saying "oh goody, a bonfire!" because of, you know, a somewhat checkered past involving the heterodox. And he's burned up way too many bushels trying to hide his light. But the headdress requirement really resonated. He was inspired to origami a sassy new biretta to be worn at an impudent angle over the eyebrows like a sailor on first liberty. But as to flaming, the Cardinal prefers to just light one little can of sterno under the hot crab and artichoke dip.
JP, That picture gives a whole new meaning to "business casual".
Grish, Ah, motivation. I'm surprised The Child is exhibiting as much as she is. But there's been plenty of lying around doing nothing, too. Key to a "good summer".
Cardinal, So glad to see you up and about, even if it is upon your gilded wheelchair. That last go of gout was a nasty one, wasn't it?
(I almost penned 'bout of gout' but you know how I feel about poetry in July).
I shall be posting pictures of the ceremony anon. It was deeply moving.
Well that's exciting that Dylan would say something like that!! I know my mother and father are trying to get Nathan focused... Let's hope that works! Did I tell you that the fire alarm went off on the second to last song of our performance on Friday? We did the finale outside. IT WAS AWESOME!!
Oh, Mols. The show must go on, indeed! So proud of you!
Charlie, I'm not alone in my missing Bill. We could go on at length about why some didn't like him and didn't like him with a vengence. But for my part I miss his I-feel-your-pain-we're-in-this-together-surplus-creating-job-growth-spinning-hardly-any-war-making ways. Whatever else he was, he wasn't an imperialist and I really, really like that about him.
Tell Bill Iwanski said he was a damn fine President.
...and see if you can get Hillary's number for me.
Glenda, Oh. Trust me. There were a few survivors. Mommy always secrets a few away.
Iwanski, Message delivered. And he said to tell you that you are a damn fine American.
Sling, Everything was going just great but when I mentioned your name I was suddenly swarmed by Secret Service and hustled off and held in a secure room until the event was over. What was that about?
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