I think I fell in love with you
Back home again. Travel this time was mercifully uneventful. I got home in time for dinner on Friday night. Saturday, AJ’s football team won the last game of their regular season, leaving them with a 7 and 2 record and a ticket to the playoffs. Unfortunately, they pulled the undefeated 1st seed team for this coming Saturday. If they win, they’ll be ecstatic. If they lose, AJ and Mr. Spy will get to use their Blackhawks tickets for the following weekend. So really, it’s a good outcome either way.
Saturday night, AJ had a sleepover with his best friend while Mr. Spy and I attended the wedding of one of his cousins. I don’t usually get teary at weddings, but I very nearly did at this one. This particular cousin is a lovely young man. He’s the one who volunteers to play Santa at the family Christmas party when the uncles, whose generation is supposed to handle the job, are not feeling up to it. I was doing fine until I saw the look on his face as his bride came down the aisle. It was a beautiful thing to see. Mr. Spy and I were both exhausted and didn’t dance much, but did take a spin around the floor when they played our wedding song. Sunday, AJ had baseball practice. He’s joined a travel team and will be playing indoors all winter (or until we move out, if a miracle happens and someone decides to buy our house).
Yesterday, I headed into the city for a productive meeting on behalf of the Toy Factory with some inventors. We are considering working on a project together and it was an interesting conversation that kept me on my toes, and not just because it veered into German every now and again. It’s also left me with a lot of writing to do. I am having anxiety dreams about my unfinished paper. I’m feeling a lot of pressure to get this one right because, well, because of a lot of things. I feel like I need to do well for the people I work with, many of whom have said they are planning on coming. The person chairing my session is also my editor on the book project, and I want to do well for him. I of course want to do well for myself. And the session is named after my paper, which I found a little alarming. And it’s a topic that is a little outside my comfort zone. It all feels like responsibility. I’m trying not to let the weight of this get debilitating. If truth be told, I always have trouble finishing conclusions on time. Most of the paper is written and polished. But it needs to end somewhere. I am planning to read through it before bed and sleep on it. Then, perhaps, my dreams will be more useful than the one I had last night, where I was sitting in a cafe minutes before my paper was to be delivered realizing I hadn’t started it yet.
While Mr. Spy and I are scribbling, AJ has been busy too. In addition to his many sporting events, AJ is in the chess club and taking trombone lessons and playing in the middle school band (which still exists, even though there is no longer a middle school in our town) and taking guitar lessons. He’s doing quite well at his musical pursuits, which is impressive given the amount of time he practices. He played me Mary Had a Little Lamb on the trombone today and had a decent tone and intonation. He is not longer sounding like a dying moose. I, on the other hand, sound like an asthmatic dying moose. AJ keeps asking me to try it, but I just can’t seem to get it. On guitar, though, we’re both doing well. He’s been teaching me to play Green Day’s “Holiday” and Smashmouth’s “Walking on the Sun,” both of which sound way cooler on his electric than on my acoustic, but are still fun to play. Especially when we play together.
But now, having begged Mr. Spy to remove a dead mouse from under my desk and having scrubbed the floor (it somehow came to a messy end, despite the lack of cat — I don’t think I want to know why) and sprayed the room copiously with Lysol and bleach, I can avoid my desk no longer (and believe me, I have been avoiding it ALL DAY). I need to turn in my page proofs for my article. Then all I do is wait until spring for the actual book, which is now up on the press’s website and it’s all looking very real.