Entry #66

Entry #66

Tuesday, May 8

1:00 p.m. I recently read an article in the New York Times about a Golden Retriever who has been integral in helping a woman suffering from war-related PTSD. She tried all kinds of medications and other therapies, but nothing worked nearly as well as affection from her therapy dog. As someone whose family member was diagnosed with PTSD for very different reasons, I can well understand the emotional benefits of a perennially friendly pooch.

While walking Izzie this morning, I met two friendly pups and was reminded of dogs' natural ability to brighten one’s day. They approach people without prejudice and offer their unconditional affection. What’s more, they help people connect because dogs are usually inclined to greet one another, forcing their humans to do the same.

4:00 p.m. It dawned on me today that I've now lived in Texas long enough to feel perfectly cool in 86 degree weather. I looked at the temperature on the van, thinking that perhaps the sun had just headed up the thermometer, but nope, it’s 86 degrees outside with a little breeze. Perhaps that makes all the difference, or maybe my blood's now as thin as the seniors citizens in Florida who wear cardigans to the beach when it's sunny and 72.

Wednesday, May 9

12:30 p.m. Aidan came home from school yesterday complaining that he felt nauseated, then proceeded to crash on the couch for the remainder of the day and through the night. He's probably lucky he missed dinner, as it turned out.

As part of our "breakfast-for-dinner," I thought I’d try to make “Feather-Light” biscuits from the cooking class last week, only I was missing most of the ingredients. Still, I figured I'd give it a go. I substituted ricotta cheese and nonfat milk for the buttermilk and cream, coconut oil for the shortening, and all-purpose flour for the recommended self-rising White Lily varietal. (I compensated by adding a ½ tsp of baking powder, not that it did much good.) I did have butter for brushing along the top, so I figured at least they'd taste okay. 

The biscuits were edible, but a far cry from “feather light.” Noah said, “They were tasty, Mom, but were kind of like Haggard’s rock cakes.” I think I'll have to try again, this time using the recommended ingredients (unless some mortal enemies are within striking zone, or we find ourselves in need of a quick batch o' mortar).

Thursday, May 10

9:30 a.m. This morning I went to school early thinking that I’d be working with Sam, the boy who’s been writing a comic book about the "unblessed" super hero, but I forgot that he was on a camping trip. As I was leaving class, I ran into a girl who spends the school year here and then returns to Germany for the summer, her home country. “Whenever I come back here from Germany, I realize I forgot how to speak English. Then when I go back to Germany from here, I forget how to speak German.” Judging by how well she speaks English, I’m sure this isn’t true, but it shows that being immersed in a language certainly helps you speak it fluently—and think in that language, too. 

There was a small book fair going on in the main lobby, and the preschool kids were huddled around the paperback area. When I walked up, they were eager to show me their favorites. The big winner seemed to be Dolphin Tale, based on the movie about a dolphin that gets a prosthetic tail. “I got to swim with the dolphins in Hawaii once,” said one little girl, “but I don’t remember it.” “I’m going to go to Hawaii and swim with the dolphins sometime,” added another, smiling at her friend, “We’re going to go together.” A little boy chimed in, “We saw the movie when we were in Hawaii and it was raining and we were in our hotel. We thought the movie was free, but then they charged us 30 dollars!” “Well, I hope you really liked that movie,” I said.

4:30 p.m. The first thing Noah said as he got into the car after school was “I made a tree today that ended up looking like a large brown penis.” This, of course, sent Aidan into a fit of giggles. “What do you mean, 'A large brown penis'?” I asked. “Well, I stepped back after making the base and the trunk and that’s what it looked like," said Noah. "Tal [Noah’s friend] took a look at it, too, and saw the same thing.” 

“Did you put any branches or leaves on it yet?” I asked. “Not yet,” said Noah. Well, that would explain why the tree is still in its phallic stage. It’s ironic that the two other props Noah and his teenage friends were assigned to work on have been large, bulbous rocks—hopefully not to be placed on either side of the tree.

6:00 p.m. For the first time since arriving here, I saw a deer run out in front of my car. I saw it well ahead of time so I could slow down, but the woman in front of me apparently didn’t, and the poor critter banged into the car (causing part of the bumper to shatter), rolled over the top, and continued running to the other side of the street, where it had to cross two more busy lanes. I couldn’t look, but since I didn’t hear anything, I’m just hoping it got across safely and that it survived. I could see the woman in front of me rubbing her forehead from stress, but she just kept on driving.

8:30 p.m. After dinner, we were all hanging out in Noah’s room talking about whether or not Rosetta Stone, an online language program, has been effective in lieu of a live teacher. Like a formulaic sitcom, the phone rang precisely at that moment, and a woman named Hilda began rattling off something in Spanish. “Wrong numero,” said Noah, and hung up. Guess we can all use some Spanish lessons.