Here's another one of my "the kids at Prestigious sure are rich" anecdotes. A family employs three full-time nannies --- one for each kid --- and bought the house adjacent theirs so the nannies could live there. Holy cow.
In fourth grade this week, I was asking the kids what talents they had. One boy said he could sing Elvis opera. Intrigued, I asked him to do so. After a bit of half-hearted demurring, he trilled in a very operatic falsetto, "You ain't nothing but a hound dooooog..... Cryiiiiiing.... All the tiiiiiiime...." It was beautiful. I mean, it was musically ludicrous, but the idea was beautiful.
The other day I ordered some food from my regular Chinese place (called, risibly enough, Wang's). I asked the girl, "How many dumplings to an order?" She said, "Six." I said, "Well, I'll have 18, then." There was a pause, and then she asked, hesitantly, "So that's... uh, how many orders?" I had to tell her it was three. (This did not shatter any racist stereotypes about Asians being good with numbers, because the girl taking my order was Hispanic.)
Auric's band came to town again, to the typical critical fanfare. I went with the Friar, but while he went up front to listen to the music, I stayed backstage the entire time (I love Auric's music, but I'm well acquainted with it by now) talking to a friendly girl who turned out to be the sister of this girl, and the ex-girlfriend of my musician friend who got killed. It wasn't flirtatious or "there's a spark between us" talk, it was more Amateur Therapist Hour on my part. She's got legitimate problems, and I tried to tell her that she wasn't a bad person for feeling overwhelmed about them. Like I'm one to talk, right? Physician, heal thyself.
Speaking of worrying, I'm feeling less than confident about the upcoming Jeopardy! audition. I test myself with various quizzes, and I don't seem to know anything. Or I'm far too slow in dredging up the requisite piece of information. Quiz shows are a young person's game.
Oh, and I'm worrying about my place at Prestigious, too, but that should go without saying. There's just so much secrecy around there (Friday, it was announced that a teacher would be an administrator next year, which no one saw coming). How do I know they're not planning for someone else to take my spot and they'll spring the bad news on me the last day of school? Also, remember the "stupid" incident detailed at (1) here? It's spread to the whole school. A first grader who as far as I know enjoys me being in the room asked me shyly if it was true, and said the third graders "were telling everyone you called them the S-word." Great!
Finally, surely in this crazy world of sectarian violence and partisan infighting, surely we can all agree that "The Flapping Dickies" would be an excellent band name.