Last night I had two anxiety dreams, one after the other. In the first, I was teaching the first day of a Grade 9 Applied Science class to a room of 40 students, mostly boys. They kept pouring and pouring into the room, and I couldn’t make myself heard over the din. Then I found that my class list had converted to unreadable animal tracks. At the end of the dream I realized: I don’t teach science. Maybe I should have asked someone what I’m supposed to teach them this year.

In my second dream, we were visiting with Spike and Little Spider. The Boy & I couldn’t stop sniping at each other, and I was terribly embarrassed at our lack of manners. Then LS showed me her knitting: a purple version of the Loopy Velez cowl exactly like the one I’m knitting, only with thicker yarn. They asked me what I was using and I said, “a DK substitute. You can’t get the pattern yarn in Canada.” To which Spike said condescendingly, “our store ordered it in.”

Two dreams: in one, I’m completely unprepared, professionally flat-footed and helplessly adrift in a sea of young hooligans. In the second, I’ve been knitting with the wrong yarn weight. Guess which one bothered me more upon waking?

In honour of the last day of summer, we took Blake to the beach. La plage! C’est bonne! I can’t believe that it’s taken us this long to get our acts together and go to the fricking beach, especially when I was there numerous times as a child and it’s less than 10 minutes away by car (which we needed, because I brought enough stuff to outfit an army). Blake ran around the sand once or twice, then parked himself in a warm puddle on the shore. He wallowed in that mud like a pig on payday. We were able to get him into the water for brief periods of time, and into the sand-castle-smashing business for even longer, but his main happy place was full-length in the slop. Man, was he digging it.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the other mother of a toddler, who was losing her shit trying to convince her wee daughter to dig with the plastic cups instead of her paws! I think Blake ate at least three mouthfuls of sand while she was in full swing.

We decided to come home when he started to flop around on the blanket with me, a clear sign that he needed a nap. The great thing was that when we got home, he headed straight for the sandbox. Hee he. I love him.

- 0 comments/hedgehogs -

- Rocketbride's adventure of 9/05/2005 07:54:00 p.m.