Sunday, September 14, 2014

Sixto

I'm 60 this month.

It is fall and I have the house to myself for a few weeks because Cuthbert is in Ireland.  And judging from the reports of aches and pains he's experiencing, I think he's just realized he's not the Strapping Young Lad he used to be.  (I tried ta tell 'em, but do he lissen to me?)

I am not taking a math class this semester so I will not be having my bi-annual Nervous Breakdown.

I have started a new job (part-time) which I will enjoy enormously.  I now consider myself the poster child for 2nd chances. I work with people who have a sense of mission and are (com)passionate.

Instead of math this semester, I'm enrolled in a course called, "The Child in American Culture," which until I attended my first session I feared would be an egregious waste of my hard-earned tuition dollars.  (When you're obtaining teaching credentials you have to take education courses.  Derp.)  Boy, was I wrong:  We will look at the aforementioned child through the lenses of history, gender studies, political science, economics, psychology, sociology, education.  (Have I left any discipline out?)  I'm pretty sure I will have to have a zipper surgically embedded in my mouth; but try as I might I always wind up scaring the horses and children.

I'm 60, y'all.  I.  Don't.  Care.



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