The weekend started with a full-building evacuation on Friday evening, a drill which allowed us the choice between waiting 45 minutes for the building to reopen, go to a local bar, or head home early. At home, S. came by soon after we had plugged in an old VHS of The Pink Panther Strikes Again to begin Pizza and Movie night. S. had just been meeting with a new mentor, who confirmed that she has been struggling to work these last two years in an abusive environment, and she needed to wind down and grieve a bit. R. and I closeted ourselves until late in the guestroom with S. and some frozen vodka.
Saturday Sav came over for the first time since he was released from hospital, where he'd been incarcerated for 11 days. He was in fine form, just returned from Princeton where he had been baptizing a friend's baby and had seen many mutual friends. It was the anniversary of the release of Sgt Pepper, and he'd found a lone copy of a cult tribute band's release of a Sgt Pepper song on eBay, and summarized the plot of As You Like It, and so on. We watched Stranger Than Fiction. Lame, lame, and lame. Instead of exploring the interesting implications of a fictional character becoming aware of the voice narrating his life, it was a straightforward, man finds a way to react against his fate, which takes pity on him. He could have looked around to see whether anyone else in his world was in a similar predicament. Or, since some say that characters live again every time a book is read, the author could have offered to re-write his life so that it was delightful but ended in an early death, or give him his same humdrum life that would stretch until old age. Or, she could have renamed her character and set the living man free from association with her text.
Sunday I lay in bed sick, dizzy and utterly enervated. Elizabeth had been feeling poorly with the same thing the night before, but somehow managed to soldier on, making it to church and the rest of the day's events (romping with the dog and R. in the backyard, building train sets, cleaning up room). Faced with his first-ever final exams now that he is in fifth grade, Michael has been reviewing social studies, his poorest subject, steadily, and has been so exultant that he now remembers most of the events, that he is becoming convinced that the tests, rather than impossible, will be ultra easy--an extremist like his mom, as Peter says. Michael's trying for High Honors this semester, and might make it if he stays on an even keel.
Sunday Ruth came over to visit. She's been up in Rochester visiting her sister and caring for her nephews. Josie was pushing boundaries severely, jumping up and having to be corrected. She mouthed my arms as I was correcting her, and had to have her muzzle held then barking and snapping at my hands. Time and time again. I finally held her down on the floor and rolled her onto her back, and after that there she was willing to calm down and get back to business as usual playing with an ice cube.
Monday morning, this morning, Peter called me at work to say that Josie just had her last shots for the year. She's now been given thumbs-up to roam the neighborhood, though we've been advised that she shouldn't eat other dogs feces for another couple of weeks. She probably will, too. It's pouring rain out, otherwise Peter would be walking her right now--we've all been eager to release ourselves to roam the neighborhood with her. We'll all get to stretch our legs!
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