I have a lot of updates which I need to write, but first, let's pause while I hold back the vomit. A parent just called me to talk about his son's detention, and ended up hitting on me. And I quote "You know Mikey's mom and I are divorced right? You know I don't have a girlfriend right? So you can call me anytime day or night and we can talk about Mikey's behavior or about politics or personal stuff, because I'd really like to spend some time with you." By that he apparently means more time than the 15 minutes in line at Subway the first and only time I ever met him.
For starters: you are old. For middles: I hate your son. I hear that Catholics, or maybe its Methodists of Presbyterians, get to choose one person in life to hate, and instead of that I came to grips with the fact that I will mildly detest one student per semester. Since I only get one, I have to choose carefully. Your son is him. For lasts: you are still my father's age. And from Ely, though I have since been informed that if I have any interest in digging for local gold, that would be the most profitable mine. Ew.
Happier updates include I passed my last performance review with flying colors ("For a first year teacher, you've really got your poop in a scoop!" and "Now I wish that I had put my daughter in your class"), I had a lovely mission reunion (which included finding out that one of the people I taught had a terrible accident and got amnesia, but I just got an email back from him letting me know that he is doing much better and he does in fact remember my companions and I ... and that he is a member of the Kirche Jesu Christi der Heiligen der Letzten Tage), I got to go to Saturday morning General Conference (which was a great session, enhanced by Martha's great seats!), I spent time with Paula and Brian, Jordan and Bridger, and stayed with Martha's, and there are only 23 and three quarters hours left until Spring Break. I feel much better now.
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