This is...

Just a placeholder. Just to say: I love these crazy days. I really do. There's nothing quite so exemplary of the random that is my life as a day on holiday. Late breakfast, manic cleanup of teaching studio, sort through homeschooling detritus some twenty years old, all carefully dated by my mother. Chelsea, 3yrs 10 mths to 4 yrs 1 mth. I have BOXES of this stuff. I'm not sure just how securely to pack it away.

S. arrives. He and hubs sit and play cards for HOURS; they're playtesting different decks for a tournament in a couple weeks' time. I tell them to shut up at about one because I have students for an hour. I started teaching J. in his prep year. Now he's starting high school in a month and taller than me.

His little sister was getting the hang of walking when she started coming to his lessons; today we play Handel's Chorus from Judas Maccabaeus, listening for sympathetic resonance and making comparisons of whole bows to whole cookies (she wore a Cookie Monster tee-shirt to her lesson today).

I blog and stuff about on the interwebs, ordering the last three Chuck Palahniuk books to complete my collection (Snuff, Diary, something else I've forgotten) and then stick the basics for pizza dough in the breadmaker while we walk down to the supermarket for the other pizza-making stuff. We liberate the mouse that wandered into our kitchen and I walk the pug around the block while hubs navigates the unfamiliar territory of our local.

One pizza later (ok, I only ate HALF the pizza), I'm ranting about the need to keep our home phone number and address out of the hands of a certain contact; I have an uncomfortably vivid premonition of him materialising uninvited and being impervious to all social niceties... I work from home a lot and with children. NO. I don't care what social disorder you hang on me, he is not to have those bits of information. And if he goes so far as to acquire them from other sources (not me or hubs) I shall be VERY UNHAPPY.

Do I really need to say that no-one wants that?

Then there was email. If Suzukisinger can tease more than one coherent thought from the mishmash I just pounded out, she'll be doing well. Actually, if anyone can read more than a sentence of this post and form a sensible comment without impugning my dubious mental state, they will deserve a medal. I didn't say I'd award one, just that you deserve it.

Tomorrow: more teaching. I'm sure there'll be hilarity. Somewhere. Right now I have to go approve a really cool and awesome app for playing planeswalk cards via iphone (oh, Magic, you have much to answer for...).

P.S. My right ankle is determinedly clicky.
Or unclicky. Clunky. Damn sticky dance floor last night. And damn people hanging off the bar occupying untenable tracts of said dance floor. Inconsiderate bastards. (hubs has interjected that bastards is a strong word. I would like to agree. Yes, yes it is.) Bastards.