Pieces

It was 18 degrees, warm enough for some icy parts of the car to melt when I went to get the groceries this morning, and then refreeze while I waited to pick them up. I watched the water trickle down the windshield, and freeze, and then disappear as I drove away.

How can I spend $200 on groceries and still not have anything in the house for lunch?

One group of students is discussing culture vs. subculture. They don’t understand why Deaf people might reject cochlear implants.

I flip restlessly between pages as I’m grading and see CNN countdown the seconds to government shutdown. About 8:30 a pollster called to ask how we feel about the shutdown and I told him to fuck off.

I’m watching “Dean Man Walking” in preparation for another class I’m teaching. I can’t stand Sean Penn. Why is Sean Penn so sexy?

I write on my list of possible discussion questions: “Does forgiveness look the same from the human perspective as from the Church perspective? Or the divine perspective? Should it?”

57 minutes, 49, 33.

Dad spent the day putting in ice shanties on the lake. “Reminds of back when dad was alive,” he says. “If you’re going out on the lake,” he says, “make sure you put on some of my insulated socks.”

The ice, they say, is strong, but the water’s murky.

I need to get a pączek.

I need to grade some more essays.

16 minutes.

Every melt, every refreeze carries its hope, does its damage.

~ by Servetus on February 9, 2018.