Saturday: Cleaning and sorting through clutter is a drag, yet sometimes you find interesting things. A few summers ago, when I was de-cluttering our bedroom closet, a $20 bill dropped right at my feet from some shelf above. I saw that as a good omen. Last Christmas, Liberto came back from Venezuela with a $100 bill(American) that his mother wanted me to have. I could have sworn I took it with me to Toronto last spring and spent it there because it was no longer in the place I remembered leaving it. This morning, while looking for something else, I found that bill, yes, in the place I remember leaving it, but camoflauged. The unexpected discovery of a crisp $100 bill is always a day-brightener.
Today, Liberto has been repairing the sink in Paul's bathroom. Paul and I drove to the landfill this afternoon to throw away odds and ends, such as a defunct coffee-maker, old boxes, mops, and the usual crap that piles up but can't go into the regular garbage. Between doing laundry, dishes, de-cluttering, and general cleaning, I never catch up. Liberto often irons, and always cooks, as well as does repairs, and Paul mows the lawn, takes out the garbage, and sometimes mops the kitchen floor. Yet I never feel as though we're on top of all the chores and clean-up. I want a house like the ones on "Flip This House"!
In this blog, I'm constantly contrasting my new school with my old school. It's been said that the "modes" of writing which we teach in school, including comparison and contrast, are merely reproductions of the innate templates of the brain. In all our thinking processes, we use one or more of the same "modes" to sort out life (Frank D'Angelo.) That is, we think in narrative, cause-and-effect, classification, description, comparison/contrast, explanatory, and argumentation, according to him, which explains my continual urge to use a mental T-chart to examine Groves versus Richmond Hill. Another difference I've noticed, don't laugh, is the attitude towards fingernails. Yes, it's a reflection of black versus white culture to a large extent. At Groves, both the female teachers and female students seemed very nail-conscious. I always felt slovenly without a decent set. If I was due for a new set, the girls would not hesitate to point this out. A lot of the teachers, too,displayed long, shiny acrylics and white-tips. Therefore, sheep that I am, I kept up with it. At Richmond Hill, I've noticed, neither the female teachers nor the students are overly concerned about the appearance of nails. I've felt one more pressure removed.
Yesterday on the way home from work, I noticed the cars lined up at the gas stations. I hadn't seen the news all day, but learned when I got home that some stations have no more gas to sell. Everyone was flocking to the remaining ones. Liberto said some stations were selling a maximum of $45 worth. There are times when I'm glad we drive a Toyota, a Honda, and a Taurus, respectively. With a $35 or $40 fill-up, I can go for two weeks. Nevertheless, I've always wanted an SUV or van. Liberto cites statistics about how SUV's have worse crash tests and flip-over rates, how people he knows pay $105 per weekly fill-up, and how much gas they burn. He, obviously, thinks with his head. I, on the other hand, simply like the feel of being higher up. When I ride with other people who have SUV's, I feel more protected. The gas crisis doesn't seem to be decreasing the number of trucks, SUV's and vans on the road. Sometimes when I'm riding with Liberto, just for sport, I'll count the next ten cars and report that seven out of the ten were SUV's. Then he cites statistics about how the auto industry has had to shut down SUV plants because sales have plummeted, and that people are just driving the ones they already own because they can't trade them in or sell them because they have depreciated in value. But if I happen to win that pick-up truck from the United Way raffle, I am keeping it, even if I can only afford to drive it once per week.
Next week is the big Six-Oh. But remember, 60 is the new 40. Hasn't Hillary Clinton made it okay to be over 60? Frankly, most of the time, I'm too busy to give it a second thought. But I have started to lie about my older sons' ages. Boys, did you know you've been bumped back into your twenties?
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