Fall again

Winter is coming. I woke up this morning with Gavin's feet in my face. Covering him with my side of the comforter and easing the door shut, I ate my cereal in front of the computer until he shuffled out and rolled under the couch blanket. We sat together and watched cartoons, my hands feeding fuzzy orange yarn onto my circular needles. Po spread herself gingerly across our laps, subdued by her girly-bit surgery earlier this week and chilled by the air on the lanai. Today was the first day of long pants, long sleeves, cozy socks and covered shoes. Gavin led the way down the hall to his preschool classroom, pausing to say hi to the lizards and stare at the sullen picture day kids being dressed as chefs and tennis players by squealing puppet-shaking photographers. I knelt down to hug him goodbye, and he gave me his usual farewell speech as he inched nearer to the kids playing blocks, "Bye, mom! Have a good day at work! Don't forget to bring me a nice book - and tell me if the Snack Man comes [Marc] - and do everything I want you to do! Bye!"

At the library, it was a tour day. It wasn't until all the students bunched in that I discovered "special ed class" meant "30 children in wheelchairs", and found myself in the middle of a crowded sea of expectant, parked little faces. I wondered how many I could cram vertically into the elevator before deciding that a stationary point-and-yell tour would have to do. I hollered and waved my arms, then mustered my best Scary Voice to read Neil Gaiman's The Wolves in the Walls despite the bored slump of the younger teachers. Had an irritated Tea-Drinking Knitting Cat Lady Librarian moment where I wanted to yell at them about their posture before remembering, yet again, that I was their age. Feeling older these days. I have discovered myself seriously thinking about buying horrifying seasonal cardigans and fake hand-carved reindeer sculptures. It starts as a joke, and ends with people piling cardigans and figurines under your Christmas tree. This will not do.

Speaking of cardigans, fashion rant: why does nothing look good on me this season? Who are these people designing for? Why am I being asked to pay $90 for a Vera Wang skirt that makes my butt look like it flaps around my knees? Why are potato sacks with drawstrings around the neck back in fashion? WHY?! I need clothing!



In other news, have successfully dumped Johnny the Coffee Pot and am no longer forking over $7 a bag for dark roasted panic attacks. I made peach jam. Gavin is featured in a full-page ad in Black Belt Magazine this month, because his dad makes the ads. Have knit 2 more hats and started a third, as well as beginning my first [toddler-sized] sweater.