Thursday, January 24, 2013

The schlep

It's a good word.

Now is when the discipline of doing this daily becomes a challenge. Thursday night, obligations every single evening this week -- tonight it is doing a double whammy of kids' music lessons, managed solo (with the help of a friend) now that David's rehearsal schedule is heating up. To immediately go on a tangent, it is a testament to the regard in which I hold Z's violin teacher that I am willing to make the drive to her new house. The far eastern suburbs (really "far suburbs" anywhere) fill me with existential malaise.

Had a nice time hanging out with O while Z was transported out to violin with a friend. At the grocery story, in the wine section, he did ask me why we always buy "so much special drinks." I'm not sure I gave a good answer.  His drum lesson was good. Schlepped out to her violin lesson. Schlepped everyone home. O finished his homework while I set up dinner in front of the TV so we could end the evening with a soothing dose of Phineas and Ferb. And scene.

Except then I learn on the intertubes that an old ... colleague? ... has died. I didn't know him well. Many people I know knew him better, and their grief matters more than my ... whatever it is. But it is a sadness, and it makes the past seem even so much farther away. Frank Green was one of the people who made Cleveland a good town for arts of all kinds.

So, Thursday. In Z's violin lesson, I had an interesting conversation with her teacher about the effective tool of making plans. And the plan for this week was to just get through the week - 5 nights of stuff, and full days. One more day, then a long sleep, then making a new plan.

Reading: 
Writing:

Dinner: We bought subs during the schlep to eat while watching TV. My children do love the hoagies. Also, leftover sweet slaw. And, yes, I had a "special drink" (aka cheap Tempranillo).

Soundtrack: Itzhak Perlman radio on Pandora.

Random thing: On the way to the grocery story, O proudly announced to me that there is more than one word in Spanish for the color brown (marro'n and cafe). We talked about that for a while, and then I asked him what is his favorite word in Spanish. He was quiet for several seconds while we were getting out of the car, then said "I have to think about that." We did the shopping, went to drumming, and on the way out of the music school, he finally said, "I've been thinking about it, and I finally found my favorite word: anaranjado."

1 comment:

  1. I love that kid. Seriously. I love both of them but O says things that speak to my very soul (while, of course, Z and I have similarly excellent fashion sense and taste in books). <3

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