Curmudgeon

Every day a new goodbye, or an opportunity for a goodbye missed. Spirits flagging, doubts rising.

Because of technology, I can see what some of my soon-to-be classmates look like. Some have even “friended” me on Facebook; when I get the notification I think, “Oh, just leave me alone.” And then I get mad at myself. Why am I not reveling in this experience the way these younguns seem to? On an SIT-related forum, one woman posts “Looking for someone to share a motel room on the night of the 30th.” An hour later someone from France or Kansas or someplace responds: “Sounds great! I’ve got an extra bed at the Latchis.”

Being open to new experiences is prerequisite to this educational program, so why is my attitude clamped shut? I would room with a stranger only if I were laid out in a morgue.

I spent last night in Davis with Lulu. Today I had my physical with my doc, who filled out reams of forms for school saying I was of sound mind and body, stretching the truth of the former. He wrote something like, “Is currently stable” in the mental health section.

Later today Lulu showed me the conservatory at UC Davis.

Some of those plants really stink. And those are poison dart frogs in that last slide. If you want to see the photos big, click that little box at the right with four arrows that can’t seem to agree.

Oh, wait a minute. Molly took some pix of me that I threw out because they were ugly, but she says I should keep this one because I look “ethereal.” That’s better than looking like the curmudgeon that I am.

When I stood up, my entire back side was covered with the wet mud that hid beneath the moss.