end of a day blather.

When I got my distance-vision only glasses in January, the optometrist advised me to hang on to last year’s progressive lenses even though I don’t love them. He was right. It doesn’t work to wear distance-only glasses in Japanese class or the grocery store, but they are excellent for driving at night. Luckily, the honking-big case that came with the new ones holds both pairs.

I fret. Should I visit Beacon--the tiniest little college ever, in Leesburg Florida--with Gabe because it might, as an LD-specific school, have the highest chance of not flunking him out? Will a mainstream school-with-LD-program work? Will he still like Japanese when he has to start reading...in Japanese? Cola-nut? Uncola-nut? Can you choose wisely? (If you can, please let me know...I could use some input here.)

It was a day of too much to do. To Georgetown, through arduous D.C. traffic first thing in the morning for a hefty dose of poking, prodding, and brain-straining (Jeff,) and a lot of time sitting in a chair or looking out the 7th floor window of the hospital room at snow flurries, while trying to entertain my ADD mind with a combination of Japanese practice, scarf knitting, and playing with my Centro’s online functions to make sure Baltimore County Schools weren’t closing early. (me.) Luckily, they did not. Close early, that is, and we had time to chomp down a Chipotle burrito, get home, let the dog out, snag Gabe from carpool, run home to use the bathroom, and take him to drum. I recognize that there is nothing unusual about having little time to alight at home and achieve that settled feeling for most people, but I am grateful that our most pressing task for tomorrow is to return the Odyssey’s license plates to the DMV so we can stop insuring it.

I imagine that one day I may need a job, to extend the time until I need to rely on eggs and nests and stuff like that, and I imagine that I will work at Trader Joe’s, or similar. And I will not mind it. Probably. Because, the people seem nice enough, and besides--there is rarely a brilliant career opening for someone who: reads several languages somewhat, writes tolerable but unmarketable fiction, and is (or will be) fifty-something. So, it will be one of those jobs for people whose more interesting features are not highlighted by their vocation.