Written two weekends ago when my internet wasn't working
I only swam on Monday. Monday I didn’t work because I had a meeting with Aa and her supervisor as well as La, one of the psychologists for my group. Yt, the other psychologist, was called away. The meeting went fine. I had been sure my knuckles were going to be rapped for being too headstrong. They weren’t.
The last two times Aa was here, all the kids were home. She was overwhelmed by all the action.
Thursday, the kids came home after leaving for school, because school was canceled. It had been raining hard here, but I hadn’t realized there was snow in higher elevations. When the bus I was on climbed the hill from our village, snow was coming down up there! I told the driver I hadn’t listened to a weather forecast. I told him I didn’t want to get stuck at work and asked if it was expected that the snow would stick. He said no, so I carried on. When I changed buses as the central bus station, it was cold! The wind made me tie my hood closely around my face, and I hid my hands in my sleeves. At work, soup with croutons went like wildfire. My manager was back after being sick for a few days. Work has been fine.
I’ve been fairly involved with the kids. But I did spend all the time I had planned on being at the pool and walking curled up in bed trying to sleep through feelings of overwhelming sadness. Why? I wondered if it was a reaction to all the expressions of encouragement over my progress at the meeting on Monday. For some reason I tend to be freaked out by positive feedback from authority figures. I wondered if it was because I didn’t work Monday. I wondered if it was PMS. (As usual, I’ve no idea where I am in my cycle.) Anyway, I did make it to work on those days. Even left the house and walked to the bus stop with no problems.
Wednesday I left a bit late and was lucky to catch a taxi to a bus stop outside of the village with another woman who undertook getting us a good deal from the driver. She stuttered while she argued with him. When I spoke to her at the bus stop later, she did not stutter. Obviously Yemenite in family origin, I wondered what family she is from. I don’t recognize her, but I suspect she is a member of the B family. One of the children of the 13 “children” who are long since adults. Or a grandchild even, I suppose. At the bus stop I smiled briefly at a young man and looked away, not recognizing him. He looked surprised that I didn’t speak to him. I realized belatedly that he was a sweet child I had seen go into the pierced-ear, motorcyclists-for-friends stage. Now he is a wearing his hair in long ringlets, not quite going so far as to let them turn into dreadlocks. I hadn’t seen him for a long time. His grandmother died soon after my dad. I suppose he was visiting his granddad. They belong to the Y family. I haven’t been in contact with them for a long time, as that contact was through my ex. His contact ended after arguments between them when he went to pray in a different synagogue, leaving their family synagogue.
The kids took turns “fixing” my hair this evening. H was best about not pulling, since she hates having her hair brushed. After they were all finished, Shehori climbed on my lap. He braced his front paws on my head and tried to pull the top-knot there out with his teeth. He wasn’t careful not to pull too hard. I giggled uncontrollably, then put him down when it got painful. The kids were enthralled. I got my hair cut a couple weeks ago, so it is easier to work with; otherwise I might not have agreed to their itching to be hairdressers.
Ya got a call from a male not of my acquaintance on Thursday before I left for work. Someone at her neighbor-friend’s school who she met over the internet. So I locked her in a tower. I bring her food three times a day, but otherwise keep it locked. I wish. Edit: Actually it turns out he is a friend of a girl at her school. A good, level-headed girl who previously went to a school with both boys and girls. Not so bad. So I let her out for ten minute supervised breaks.