I am finally able, again, to connect to the internet in my (Butch's) office. Perhaps it's not a good idea, though, because it's distracting (today I managed to retype--at least that's what it feels like--an essay on American literature between the two world wars) and when I do, something weird inevitably happens. Like this time, I tried to connect with Zimbra (our SNC mail) and nothing really loaded right.
I know that I had something vitally important to write here, something ironic that would show me in the palest of all international lights, something self-revealing and embarrassing (my favorite tidbit: concrete self humiliation), but it seems to have vanished along with my sense of time. It's nearly 4 PM. I've been here in the office, tapping away at the rewrite of the essay ("notes" for tomorrow's American lit survey) since before noon. Lizzie will arrive on her schoolbus sometime around or shortly after 6 PM. (Today, Carlito picked her up at 11:05, interrupting an impromptu chat with the Jehovah's Witnesses that lurk around the Balay Kalinaw, just waiting for open faced Americans to hear the good news that this H1N1 virus was foretold in the Bible.)
I should be heading home now and thinking about what to make for dinner. Yes, the ever present dilemma--what to make for dinner. Lizzie's now suffering the same malady as I am (family friendly term? Dysentery.) So we have to eat something somewhat bland. Cynch gave us two heads of organic lettuce and I'm afraid to soak them and eat them. I've come to see all green leafy raw things as demons. But then the Puritan in me feels wiggish about throwing two heads of perfectly good greenery away (and then lying to Cynch about how delicious it was...)
Lizzie and I are watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 2, and it's so much fun to watch her navigate the plots and characters for the first time. I can tell that she really likes Xander's character (though she won't admit it out loud when there are parents in the vicinity) and now she waits with feverish intensity for Buffy to kick the butts of the boys who challenge her ability to do anything because she's just a "girl." In the dark bedroom, I can see that predatory gleam in her eyes.
Last night, we watched the episode where we discover that Oz is a werewolf (sorry, for those of you who aren't Buffy fans, this is going to be a lame diversion...). One of the bit characters is a loud, obnoxious jock who's sporting a "wild dog bite" that required 39 stitches and a bad attitude about women--he treats every girl in the school as an object of sexual derision. A scene opens in the gym, and the teacher tells everyone that they'll learn "simple self defense techniques."
"Oh, Buffy doesn't need any help with that," Lizzie commented. And then Buffy was paired up for the exercise with the annoying jock. "Ohhh," Lizzie said. "She's going to kick his butt."
Willow, Buffy's BFF, took that opportunity to remind Buffy, "Hey, don't go mental here. You're supposed to be a cute, weak girly-girl, remember. So play the part."
Buffy no doubt voiced what Lizzie was thinking: "Aw. Way to spoil my fun." And then she flipped out a cute slayer-pout.
When the jock made an outrageous remark and cupped Buffy's bottom, Lizzie got her wish. Buffy flipped him over her head and across a set of mats, where he landed, hard, and shocked.
I do believe that Lizzie clapped.