Better to Laugh

Well, I tried to go to bed earlier the night before last.  I was actually tired, so I thought falling asleep would be a piece of cake – not!  I hit the pillow and my eyes were wide open.  I started singing, praying, anything to focus the search engine in my brain; I finally did fall asleep.  The next morning, I was exhausted.  I tried to put the coffee filter in the coffee pot, instead of the brew basket, and I was all thumbs most of the day.  I have functioned better on less sleep.  Last night I slept less, but I had more energy today.  Maybe some people just don’t need a full 8 hours?  

When I was younger and still took naps, Mom was ready to nap more than I was.  I would lie there and talk away.  Eventually she would tell me she was going to charge me a dime for every word I said.  I guess some things never change; my husband was feeling lonely always going to bed before me, so I went to bed when he did one night.  When my head hit the pillow, I started talking.  He doesn’t really bring up the subject of going to bed at the same time anymore.

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Why is it that I am always exhausted, but I don’t sleep?  Could it be that my brain is usually focused on so many things that when I get some time to myself I don’t want to spend that downtime unconscious?  Or maybe it is because I keep getting a second, third, fourth wind?  My mother always says that I wouldn’t go to bed when I was younger because I was afraid that I would miss something.  Well, I don’t know what I am about to miss, but I have to get some shut-eye.

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I am reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.  Her first journey is to Italy, the “eat” part of the title.  How appropriate, since food is a mistress to Italians.  This is not a metaphor; Italians literally have a love affair with food.

My dad, Gino, is so into his food that I have asked him if they (my dad and his pasta, warm bread, hot soup, dessert, whatever) would like to be alone, get a room, etc.  There is deep breathing and moaning as the aromas enter the nostrils, the textures are felt through the mouth, and flavors roll over the tongue.  It’s pretty hot stuff.  Food is not just nutrition; it touches our very souls.  To go on a diet to an Italian is like a divorce from our soul mate.  

And the helpings!  My dad served my non-Italian husband (then boyfriend) a bowl of ice cream.  When my dad brought him the bowl, he couldn’t believe his eyes.  There was a quart or more of ice cream in the dish.  My mom saw his expression of shock (eyes wide, mouth gaping) and said, “That is what you call an Italian helping.”  My husband monitors my dad now when he dishes him up.

What can I say?  Italians are a passionate, generous people…especially when it comes to food.

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We finished our first week of school, 178 more days left in the school year.  Wednesday was a bear:  copier down, laminator roller full of melted plastic, new wireless network did not connect to my LAN drive making it so I could not get documents I needed, etc.  But we just kept SMILING even if we had to FAKE IT! 

I really enjoyed seeing the students.  Two of my favorite student quotes from the first week: 

A 1st grader was supposed to be counting push-ups for his 3rd grade partner.  When I asked the first grader how many his partner did so that I could record it, he looked up with the sweetest face and said, “A wot.”  Luckily, his partner was counting, also.

During warm-ups, a third grader said, “Ms. Dawn, you look like you have been working out your whole life!”  Okay, so it came from a third grader, but it is nice to have your effort recognized.

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Two stories of identification by the back of the head:

About 40 years ago, my aunt and mom were driving down the road with my cousin, Mark,  in the backseat.  They commented that the car in front of them was from another state.  My cousin piped up and said, “How can you tell, by the shape of their heads?”

Fast forward to present day.  We are singing in church, and my husband leans over and tells me that he thinks he spots my teen nephew that we haven’t seen much in the past few years.  “The back of his head looks like Josh.”  I wondered how he knew a kid by the back of his head.  He replied, “I ran behind him for a while during the Sam Costa Half Marathon last March.”  I guess it is worthwhile to pay attention while you are running.  If you have read my other blogs, you know that there are about a hundred things on my mind while I run.

Wow, my cousin Mark was a wee boy 40 years ago?!

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