1-11-00 Tu 12:30 PM
Got a hummer on the way to the airport and a covert, under-the-blanket handy, thirty-one thousand feet over Texas. We had an hour layover in Dallas and got into Los Angeles about midnight. The cabbie from LAX was quite the talker. I carried my bride over the threshold. The answering machine was stuffed. Papillon's (the cynical parrot) mom, the vehicle donation center, Mariachi, Florelle, Elmer, Nina. We ordered a nasty pizza and went to bed. I got up the next morning, Sunday, and read the Second Epistle of John. I typed fifteen minutes. Then I went to the porch and brought in the Sunday paper. I read the first three sections in bed while Rochelle slept. Then I got my baseball stuff ready. Sanyo came with Pablo to "meet your wife." We left for the game. On the way there, I realized I had forgotten my cleats in the commotion. I called Rochelle on Mariachi's cell phone, and she was kind enough to bring them for me. We played a team called the Rounders at El Sereno Park. They had weak pitching, and we hammered them nineteen to one. I grounded to second, lined past third, and struck out. I made two bad plays at third. I got a ride home with Carlos after the game. I called my dad and stepmom in Idaho and told them the news. They seemed surprised and happy. I told them we would try to come up next month. Joan was crying. I called Grandma and told her. She said that my great-great-grandfather Sherwood married a Rochelle. I showered, and we drove to our mom's house. They had a party for us. My mom was crying a lot. She and my dad talked. Champagne was flowing. We had a little wedding cake. We got home around ten and went to bed. Monday was back to school. Whatever! I took care of the Blockbuster snafu. Dropped off some film. Typed a third-person page this morning. Read the paper. Rochelle made tacos last night. I'm tired. I could go for some coffee. Night school tonight. Tomorrow's barely Wednesday. We get Monday off for MLK. We're supposed to get studio photos to give people. What else? None of the kids are doing their silent reading. They're all fucking around. Except Steven. He's usually pretty bad, but he's engrossed in his reading right now. I called back "Greed" and gave them my new phone number. After this, we have Social Studies to do. Then I've got to read some more Blake. Have to pick up the photos. Work on Jim. I wish I had some coffee. Mostly gloomy skies today. I wish I had some coffee. Six students are absent today. What else? I can't wait to go home.
Got a hummer on the way to the airport and a covert, under-the-blanket handy, thirty-one thousand feet over Texas. We had an hour layover in Dallas and got into Los Angeles about midnight. The cabbie from LAX was quite the talker. I carried my bride over the threshold. The answering machine was stuffed. Papillon's (the cynical parrot) mom, the vehicle donation center, Mariachi, Florelle, Elmer, Nina. We ordered a nasty pizza and went to bed. I got up the next morning, Sunday, and read the Second Epistle of John. I typed fifteen minutes. Then I went to the porch and brought in the Sunday paper. I read the first three sections in bed while Rochelle slept. Then I got my baseball stuff ready. Sanyo came with Pablo to "meet your wife." We left for the game. On the way there, I realized I had forgotten my cleats in the commotion. I called Rochelle on Mariachi's cell phone, and she was kind enough to bring them for me. We played a team called the Rounders at El Sereno Park. They had weak pitching, and we hammered them nineteen to one. I grounded to second, lined past third, and struck out. I made two bad plays at third. I got a ride home with Carlos after the game. I called my dad and stepmom in Idaho and told them the news. They seemed surprised and happy. I told them we would try to come up next month. Joan was crying. I called Grandma and told her. She said that my great-great-grandfather Sherwood married a Rochelle. I showered, and we drove to our mom's house. They had a party for us. My mom was crying a lot. She and my dad talked. Champagne was flowing. We had a little wedding cake. We got home around ten and went to bed. Monday was back to school. Whatever! I took care of the Blockbuster snafu. Dropped off some film. Typed a third-person page this morning. Read the paper. Rochelle made tacos last night. I'm tired. I could go for some coffee. Night school tonight. Tomorrow's barely Wednesday. We get Monday off for MLK. We're supposed to get studio photos to give people. What else? None of the kids are doing their silent reading. They're all fucking around. Except Steven. He's usually pretty bad, but he's engrossed in his reading right now. I called back "Greed" and gave them my new phone number. After this, we have Social Studies to do. Then I've got to read some more Blake. Have to pick up the photos. Work on Jim. I wish I had some coffee. Mostly gloomy skies today. I wish I had some coffee. Six students are absent today. What else? I can't wait to go home.
posted by johnz at 12:11 PM
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