Today was a long day.
After having the misfortune to lie awake until two a.m., I had to get up at five-thirty and promptly smudged toothpaste on my shirt. Lovely start to the day. But then there were pancakes so it was all right, and then I put in a contact and got in the car with my big Shakespeare book and my phone and went to Boise for my sisters’ swim meet.
Sometimes I miss swimming with them. But I usually have fun and feel efficient in my new job of usually being the one to run the bullpen (the rows of plastic chairs where we gather all the swimmers and tell them fifty times each what they’re swimming, what lane, what heat, who their relay teammates are and that they don’t have their goggles on). I enjoy it. I like being able to be bossy when there’s a good reason for it. A couple weeks ago we had a meet at a small development community back in the foothills and somebody drove a truck into a tree just outside the pool area. As it happens, the group in the bullpen at the time was 9-10 year old boys’ relays. Every. Last. One. -of those kids got up and ran to see what was going on. I kid you not. I had to herd them all back in. But it was mildly fun. I often like to think jokingly to myself that my journalism adviser created a Frankenstein when he put me in charge of a newsroom. I can be a very snippy authority figure. I’ll probably be a shitty mother. Oh well.
After a morning of herding wet clammy little kids around, it ended up that a whole horde of swim families went to Famous Dave’s for post-meet protein-fest. But the idea took a little getting there – I really enjoy this story. My youngest sister, A, has two little friends who are a year and two years older than she is (C and P, respectively), and all three of them are friends with this one boy (B) who lands in the middle, and they’re all coconspirators in practically everything and some of the best swimmers we have and blah blah blah. B’s family is military and moved recently and then had to come back for a few days.
So P says to her mother, who is a terrific lady, “Well we all wanted to go to lunch together afterwards because it’s B’s real last meet and C is moving and it’s my last meet of the season – and A does everything with us, so…” but this is the point where I cracked up. My family is highly uneventful and it does not move or miss swim meets or anything like that, but at least we’re a part of things. I jest entirely.
So that was cute, and it was actually an awful lot of fun to sit around and talk to swim people and listen to my mom talk to swim people (my mother could talk to a wall) and eat chicken and cornbread with my other sister. And then we came home (and I napped in the car and boy is sleeping in your contacts painful! I never did that before because when I wore contacts in junior high I never napped!) and crashed in front of the television and snacked on leftovers. I watched Star Trek and realized that my best friend Hannah is the Spock to my Kirk, except she’s only about .25 Vulcan.
I also tried to read through a little more of The Two Gentlemen of Verona today, but I fell asleep before I got very far.
And then I was cleaning out my desk drawers and oh boy was I a strange kid sometimes. But that is okay.
And the other cool thing about today is that I got an email from the ISU jazz band director, who happens to be in Italy (!), and he was very nice and friendly and seemed pleased that I’d contacted him and asked questions and said it sounded like I was well-qualified technique-wise (I apologize, I had to brag). I am a little nerved up by the fact that he mentioned they only needed a pianist in Jazz I, which means the more advanced band and which means I have less of a chance, being a freshman and unable to comp or improvise. Granted, I jumped straight into Jazz I in high school, but high school is very different and my high school director didn’t care that I couldn’t improvise for crap because what the heck he’d just have someone else from the rhythm section do it. I’m still really scared of the ideas of comping and improvising. I think I may need to get in touch with my old director and get some help.
Although – jeeze does it bug me when people spell my name wrong, particularly when I gave it to them outright twice in the email I sent. Observation behooves us. But oh well.
Have I mentioned what a cool word behooves is, and how I think it relates for the Swedish for ‘to need’ – behöver?
So maybe I’ll do that soon.