Ball of Waaaaaah
What is it going to take to snap me out of this funk?
Absolutely hated being at this afternoon's birthday party chaos/insane-a-thon attended by Iz's school in its entirety and during which all Leelo wanted to do was run and drown himself in the back yard fountain or boing in the bounce house that was always full of really big boys doing Stone Cold Steve Austin wrestling moves. Blessings on Clyde once more for taking Leelo on a run around the yard so I could man Iz for a bit, and then on Ep for discreetly minding Iz the rest of the time.
Finally decided to be honest after the fifth or sixth person asked me when Leelo was going to be attending the school and told her we decided against it because Leelo is autistic...turns out she is a special ed teacher and was fascinated and we had a good discussion.
But still, it was depressing, being around all those Leelo-aged boys and seeing how they played and how he didn't.
I've been listening to a bunch of sappy Satie, Pavanne, etc. Listening to Faure's Sicilienne almost makes me cry, as I remember the alchemical joy of playing it myself...which I could do if I replied to the flute teacher and scheduled the lessons for which I have already paid.
My inboxes are overfull with touching and welcome email from friends and well-wishers (Hi, Kim) alike, yet I can't muster up the energy to reply and yet still get angry when out of the 200 messages received this weekend, only one was really for me.
I miss my friends and yet I don't really want to be around anyone.
My head is brimming with ideas of books to write and illustrate for Leelo--he adores anything with short choppy rhymes and clear pictures. But then I realize that I never finish anything, and in fact have three other uncompleted book projects idling since January (which reminds me, I've done another run of Super Ji11 coloring books, just in case anyone didn't get one or wants another).
However I am very proud of Seymour for finishing his race today, especially after he realized that everyone else was riding a suspension bike because the trail warranted it. He is just pleased that he didn't come in last. I told him that he should consider this, his first race, to be like the first waffle in a batch. That one's always fucked up, but then you've got perfect waffley goodness from there on out.
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