Temperatures in Key West are at a record low, I have a cold, and the Hubster is recovering from what was either a 24-hour bug or the conch sandwich of doom. Must be a vacation.
They called the race early yesterday because of the weather, but our boat had shredded a spinaker and decided to come in early anyway. Today the wind was such that it would have been more a test of survival skills than a test of sailing experience, so only a few boats actually raced.
We're leaving tomorrow for the drive back to Texas, which I plan to spend unconscious if possible.
A note on free internet access: this is not the place to a). conduct important international business deals, b). finish your dissertation, or c). experience the wonder of the internet for the first time. Please.
Turned twenty-six without much incident yesterday, other than public, mildly drunken watching of Smallville:
Crazy drunk older people we're sharing the condo with: Sara! Here's a cake! Happy birth--
Me, flinging palms in air: Don't talk to me when Lex is onscreen!
The temperature has risen, the wind has dropped, and the sailors are doing pretty well. All is satisfactory.
Free internet access! Free rum! Free goldfish crackers! Woo!
Today was the first day of racing, which I watched from one of the tenders (power boats who cater to the needs of sailing vessels). If you've never attended a regatta, here's the rundown:
Because saying it thusly to her face would be in very poor judgement:
Jesus fuck, woman, take the damn medication! You're clinically depressed! It's not going away by itself! You say you want help, and I think you really do, but right this second I want to kick you in the teeth rather than sit with you in your goddamn suffering, because I am sick to death of this passive-aggressive bullshit about how if you get better nobody will care about you anymore. What the hell do you think I've been doing for the past three years?! I'm not in it for the light conversation, that's for damn sure.
You want help? Talk to the doctor. You were right there this afternoon and you chose not to ask, and I DON'T WANT TO HEAR about how you're feeling even worse this evening. You can be scared all you need, and I will support you in "scared," but I am not going to support you in manipulating the fuck out of me in an effort to make sure I'll still care.
I want to help you, and I want to be your friend. Start acting like one.
I didn't actually have much of a critical reaction to "Visage." Mostly, it was me clutching a couch pillow to my bosom and warbling, "Lex! How I have longed for thee!"
That, and during the long shot of Lex and Helen disappearing down the hospital corridor, Lex in solid black and Helen in stark white, it was more like, "Symbolism! Burning! My eyes!" But yeah, it was good to see everybody again.
So Friday I'm leaving for about nine days of frolicking in Key West while the Hubster crews in a regatta. Although I'm from Florida, I've never been that far south, so I'm looking forward to it. I'm also looking forward to not losing the Hubster in a tragic jib accident, so keep us in mind.
Operation Shape the Future is running at full throttle, and all signs point to success at this juncture. Thank God, because this shadow business is tiring. As CW, the student, is bright and gives off such the air of quiet confidence, I keep forgetting that she's not actually even a speech undergrad yet. I'm continually brought up short by her questions, which, while appropriate and frequently quite insightful, tend to be on the level of, "So what exactly is autism?" I'm explaining as much as I can, but I still get the feeling that much of it's flying right over her head.
And the explaining! Aieeee! I've spent the last two days justifying my every move:
CW, bright-eyed: So what are you working on here?
Me, wearing the professional hat: Answering "when" and "why" questions in the context of a pretend play activity.
CW: And here?
Me: Monitoring usage of directional prepositions.
CW: And what about now?
Me: Uh, now we're rolling around on the floor playing WWF cage match. Wanna be the ref?
Well. She seems to like what she's seen so far. I mean, I play with little kids all day. What's not to like?
Tomorrow I have a shadow. A very poised, attractive, and personable young women from the local community college is job-shadowing me for the next three days, and oh hell I have to act like a professional. Fuck, I could be shaping young lives here. I should probably wear a clean shirt.
