Sometimes, late at night, I lie in bed listening to the dog dig a hole in the carpet under my bed and think fondly of you, my blog people.
I like to think of you gathered peacefully together, all of you in colorful winter hats, gently adrift on an ice flow. I broke you off from the mainland somehow, and there is a taciturn polar bear by my side, I think his name is Carl, watching with me as you bob off into the horizon.
In my imagination the ice flow is not like the kind where the village has cast you out and sent you out to your death. Don't even worry. It's more like a floating party, like a frozen cocktail party, because the ice chunk you're on is a little teeter-y, and any dancing or highly animated Pictionary games would take us back to the death scenario.
Pretty soon you're just like tiny specks in the distance, and then it's just me and Carl, and polar bears don't get my sense of humor, apparently, so it's quiet. Too quiet.
I think, I wish they'd float back here. Only then I see it in the wise bear's eyes; I'm the one adrift.
I know. It's pretty deep. Also, besides destroying the carpet, the dog is stealing clementines from the kitchen and storing them under there so I need to remember to check for rotten fruit again. That dog loves produce.
Anyway, I had very good intentions for regular posting this year, but then the world got dangerous. For instance. You know how all of a sudden the nefarious nature of teachers has been revealed to the unsuspecting nation? And how we are draining the US economy dry with our opulent lifestyles? ( Seriously, the teacher next to me must have three or four gauzy, Stevie Nicks-style skirts in her wardrobe where one would do. Sheer wanton excess. ) You probably also know how teachers are systematically breaking the spirits of children, and in between acts of cruelty are taking long breaks from the work we don't do.
So, I was trying to absorb this sudden elevation of my status to supervillain, and then the whole news thing with that teacher and her controversial blog entry happened, and it reminded me that teachers are to be seen and not heard.
Which is hard when you write a blog that includes stories from your classroom from time to time, and also part of your head is identifiable in your profile picture, and some enterprising and vindictive helicopter mom could easily piece it all together and come a-calling. I felt like maybe I should delete everything in my blog except maybe the posts about cats and beards, and just hush up.
I retreated from the blog world to the safety of my home, which was okay until the police started showing up in the neighborhood. The first time it was kind of fun, because the NASCAR neighbors got evicted and left the house locked up, and the sheriff had to break into the window in his tight uniform pants and holster belt, not that I was watching or anything, and after he left I went out to "get the mail" and the homeowner said "Hey come look at this!!"
So I did, just to be polite, and she took me in the house to show me all the trash they left behind, like six pairs of broken eyeglasses, and pizza boxes and meat on the counters, and what looked like drifts of yak hair in every room. Are yaks legal in town?
The next time the police came it was to arrest the sex offender we didn't know had come to live in the house behind ours. Imagine our surprise! They took him away in hand cuffs, but I don't know where he is now. I think if someone starts watching loud Doris Day movies at 2 am over there again we'll know to lock up the kids.
I guess what I'm saying is, I've missed you, my floating friends, and seeing as nowhere is safe anymore, I might as well enjoy myself and hang out here with you, if you don't mind. Let's just pretend that I work for the DMV or something for awhile. People love those guys.
I've got clementines if anyone's hungry. Some of them don't have tooth marks.