It’s Saturday evening in SoCal.
I’m watching the Angel – KC game on the boob-tube. It was in the low 80s here today and it’s snowing in Kansas City. I imagine Tom Hanks yelling, “There’s no snowing in baseball!”
I did chores today: dishes, grocery shopping, feeding cats, litterbox duty, helping Charlie move around and fixing her meals and tea, etc. This evening I got her the Subway sandwich, chips and cookies she wanted (along with Jaffa cakes and tins of Danish cookies) and picked myself up some fish and chips, mushy peas and calamari.
As I watch the Angel game Mist is sleeping curled up against my legs and feet and Smoke is grooming himself on the couch to my right. Charlie is in her room watching, and trying to figure out what is really happening in Blade Runner 2049.
And my mind started to wander . . .
I began my teaching career doing student teaching and part-time teaching during the 1971-72 school year. My older students were 13 and 14 years old. That means many of them were born in 1958.
My first students are turning 60 this year.
They, some or even many of them, are now grandparents.
Noooooooooooooo . . . .
Angels won.