drone stoned
DO NOT SAY THIS
Why do people ever trot out the stupid-asshole line “school is not childcare” in response to anyone lamenting the state of things? School is a lot of things but it absolutely is a place your kids go while you go to work. Pretend you needed to design a childcare facility for kids who were older than babies but too young to stay on their own. Maybe some reading, art, exercise? A midday meal? A chance to collaborate with peers on projects and play? Maybe some math? I am sure it would be way less thorough and awesome than what teachers provide, since they are professionally trained, but wouldn’t it look at least somewhat like a school? It’s a distinction without a difference, it’s not the smug gotcha argument you think it is, and also SHUSH.
Chicago will start with online learning at least for a semester (they are only saying first quarter right now but I Do Not Believe), and with the changing weather my teen will transition from constant basketball shorts to constant pajama pants, and I guess I just hope he learns some stuff and doesn’t grow up weird from only online contact with nonfamily humans. Although everyone else will be weird too; maybe it does not matter.
OFF ROAD
I may be raising one of those people who prescribes exercise for every problem you have. I was mildly complaining about feeling old and decrepit and bored with life, and Aaron is all like go for a walk! Lift a weight! Yeah thanks. He’s not wrong but no one wants to hear this. I have been biking a lot in forest preserve trails. This helps but that is probably not about the exercise but about being around trees. Thanks trees.
ON ROAD
No trees and no exercise whatsoever last week, however, when I spent 3 hours at the DMV with Aaron to get his drivers’ license. I even got a mildly sunburned arm during the hour we waited in the part of the line without shade (there was a canopy over part of the line—we felt like cheering when we reached that part). The DMV is not a happy place, but their line was fairly well-organized, with workers coming by periodically to find out why you were there (I suppose to try and plan inside-the-building capacity and judge numbers of road tests). I also witnessed them send a few people home who seemingly had brought no identification or paperwork whatsoever, and one person was removed from the line for loudly and repeatedly complaining that he “was told this would take 15 minutes.” Who told you that, sir? Donald Trump Jr? The robot voices you and he commune with during epic cocaine binges? Yes, the DMV is famous for being a quick and painless visit, how dare this bait-and-switch occur. Also in people-watching, a woman in front of us FaceTimed her boyfriend, had an incredibly short conversation, and he showed up with a beach chair and a cold can of Coke for her. Now that is service.
I worried that the road test might be over before it began, because it was very unclear where one was supposed to pull in to start, and due to my poor spatial sense I directed Aaron to the wrong spot, and a DMV worker yelled at us and he had to pull around and go elsewhere. I got out of the car and meditated on a bench until the road test was over, projecting a mental Golden Light Of Success on my teenage motorist (I may have had a bit of sunstroke by that point). I guess it worked because he passed and now I have my own designated driver! Makes me want to get drunk and demand to be driven somewhere. If only there were places to go.
SHAPES IN THE NIGHT
My tiny patio has been a lifesaver during this boring no-travel summer, and please don’t report me to the Nutritional Police because firepit nights usually mean a dinner of hot dogs and grapes and a huge bag of store-brand chips. Potato chips used to be a spontaneous, grab-a-bag-at-the-corner-bodega thing in our household; now with grocery delivery they are more of a staple so I can be ready for spontaneous firepit nights. I usually default to the store brand because I am not a fancy person, and so far those bags have had some amazing copy on them. The store-brand tortilla chips claim to be “legendary.” The BBQ potato chips say they are “welcome at any gathering.” Murder trial? BBQ chips! Sentencing hearing? BBQ chips! Execution? Prison funeral? You know it, crunch crunch!
During one of these firepit nights we saw a dark exciting shape on my neighbor’s roof! At first I thought it was a cat but then we saw its pointy face and hunchy back and then it str-eeee-tched up and CLIMBED into a tree with little hands so I think it was a ROOF RACCOON! Other than Aaron passing the driving test this was the most excitement I have felt in months, and a few days later when I saw this neighbor outside I had to yell (from 2 houses away, mind you) MARK HI MARK GUESS WHAT THERE WAS A RACCOON ON YOUR ROOF. He was polite and pretended it was interesting and that I was not insane.
—mimi smartypants is wild and free and a primary carrier of rabies.