Saturday, May 05, 2007


It’s almost 8:30 and I think I’m going to head to bed. I’m writing because I have the time, but I’m also procrastinating going to bed because 8:30 is such a wimpy bedtime.

I’ve been having funny teaching dreams lately. This morning I actually woke up putting my kids into alphabetical order without a list, or something ridiculous and stressful like that. I had one I think you’ll appreciate—but I’ll set it up for you first. I am a history non-buff. I’m actually rather ashamed of my lack of ability to retain a single historical fact—it is perhaps physically impossible for me. I’ve passed all classes containing historical information only by the sheer endurance of my short-term memory. Anyway, that mixed with being asked how to write moustache during journaling time, and looking at the word with complete lack of confidence in my spelling of it—I mean, come on, how often do I write the word moustache. Had I ever written the word moustache before that very day? My nightmare: I had to teach a lesson on Thomas Jefferson. I felt good about it. People were asking me if I was going to prepare and I responded, “What’s there to prepare? Everyone knows about Thomas Jefferson.” Then I got up in front of the class and all I could think of to say was that he had long hair and a moustache (the latter isn’t even true, right?) I think I woke up sweating from that one.

Though not the only time I have woken up sweating lately…

So yesterday was “labor day” around here, making Monday night “Friday night.” We stayed up until at least 10 and were eagerly anticipating sleeping in the next morning until at least 7. (I know--weird life). Until…I woke up at 11:32, sweating profusely, mere moments I’m told, after the power went out. This was one of those sleeping-without-the-fan nights that would have been unbearable. So I put on the flip flops and headed out to the hammock. Bridget followed soon after (our room is an oven), and I actually managed to sleep comfortably until 2:30am when I decided to head back into the house. The power stayed out until around 11:30 that morning—but we missed it due to our río adventure.

It started with packing 11 people, 3 coolers, an inflatable pool and raft (with oars) into the back of a pick-up truck. After boarding, the truck actually played dead in front of our house for at least a half an hour. We sat there crowded into the truck bed, sweating on each other, contemplating the possibility of this trip not really happening. But after a few minutes of clunking and banging, she roared to life and we were on our way. We drove only about 15 minutes out of town and another 20 off-roading down a path to our vacation destination. Our first sight was of a man sitting inside of a pila taking a bath. It made us chuckle and slightly jealous—who wouldn’t want to chill in their pila!?

It was here at the río that I encountered the grassy piece of earth I’ve been fantasizing about all year (who would have thought I would fantasize about Commons Lawn :)) The trouble was that it turned out to be grass like any other grass in Honduras—so sharp that it cut through my towel scratching up my legs and spreading a rash wherever it touched. (This always happens when I try to play duck duck goose, too). So I hit the río in a giant blow up boat with two miniature oars that weren’t really cut out to do the job. Lisa took front, me lounging in the rear, and we paddled full force toward tiny tiny rapids in the distance. When we realized that we were kicking and paddling with everything in us and still not moving, we decided to give up. To give you the contrast of our competitive natures: Lisa felt like a failure, while I commented, “That’s alright. This is a very nice distance to view the rapids.” ;)


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