I got this in my email box today… what a perfect start to my Friday…

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Dear Mrs. A,

Thought you would like to see the great message I received from Mrs. Henecke this
morning!

Mrs. C

—–Original Message—–
From: Henecke Wendy
SenTom: Thursday, February 10, 2005 7:59 AM
To: C Cecilia
SubjecTom:

Cecilia,
I wanted to tell you what a nice job Rocky did in class yesterday. I gave them an
assignment to do while I met with the other group. He REALLY didn’t want to do it
and I thought for sure he was just going to shut down. He worked steadily on it and
finished it by the end of class. I was really proud of him. Wendy

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my kid ROCKS!

I think this calls for something special tonight. Maybe McDonald’s and we actually GO IN so the boys can rejoice in the Play Place. It’s boring to me, but a very special treat for them. Why didn’t they have Play Places when we were kids? Or did they and I just didn’t join in?

It really touched my heart to hear T say that it meant something to her about my goofy midnight/birthday thing. I thought it was just something dumb that I kept doing, but she doesn’t think it’s dumb. Goofy – yes. Dumb – no. What do we do when our communication methods don’t match? Me – writing. Her – face to face. Us – 400 miles apart. It sucks butt. I hate hurt feelings, no matter if I’m experiencing them, or I’ve caused them. I’d like to say that I hate hurting other people’s feelings because, well, I feel empathy/sympathy. But to be more honest and accurate, I hate hurting other people’s feelings but at the same time feeling a horrible sense of injustice that they don’t understand me and are interpreting me in a way that I feel is not what I perceive as the truth. Or even worse, brushing me off because I’m not important enough to even invest the emotional energy in. Does that make sense? I just read it over and it’s muddy but I don’t know how else to explain it better.

I’m wearing my sweatpants, Jessica. Will I ever be brave enough to wear some slinky black hot pants? If I do, I’m just sure that five minutes after I don them, a mack truck will roll on by and unload a puddle of muddy water all over the pants AND me. It’s hard to remember that slinky black hot pants wash just as easy as raggedy sweatpants. They just take a little more care to get them out of the dryer before they wrinkle. Then some days you feel like sweatpants when what you really should do is wear the SBHP and try to make your attitude catches up with your attire.

Whoa – maybe I took your metaphor waaaaay too far! Or I’m in a deeply philosophical frame of mind. Same thing probably!

Current Music: hum of twenty macs cranking away in the lab
Current Mood: mellow

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