There's a good chance Indiana has decided it can be spring now. I hesitate to say that because, well, it's Indiana. Tomorrow it could prove me wrong. Because Indiana. Nevertheless, this evening Miss Monster and I enjoyed a lovely walk. Things are greener. There are hints of pink, white, and yellow peeking around the corners. The chill in the air tamped back from sub-zero. All in all, it approached nice. As we wound our way around the neighborhood sidewalks, we reached a bridge that provided dry access over a...creek? Drainage ditch? On the other side was a couple walking with their toddler. Upon seeing Miss Monster the tiny tyke was obviously nervous, so Miss Monster and I stepped into the grass. Heck, Miss Monster was taller than she was. Of course she was nervous.
In 8th grade, our class was divided into three pods. Each pod was then divided again into three sub-classes that rotated through three subjects - Social Studies, Language Arts, and Math. The three classes often coordinated. For example, when we discussed the Revolutionary War in social studies we read Johnny Tremain in language arts. Math focused on Algebra and incorporated somehow, but frankly I wasn't a big fan of math and my energy remained focused on the liberal arts then as it does now. Periodically, all of the sub-classes in a pod would work on one big project that incorporated all three subjects. When we ventured into the point in US history when settlers began traveling west, we read How the West Was Won and our project was to work in groups to create a popsicle stick western town. My group of three was assigned the undertaker's building.
I have a secret. Actually, it's not much of a secret for those who know me well, but it is a fact that some who don't might find curious. I'm afraid of open water. More specifically, open water in which the depths can't be discerned by the naked eye. I think this is because I have a seriously overactive imagination. I can work myself into quite a frenzy by shutting my eyes and letting my mind wander. A bit of a problem when I was a small child, I know relish this aspect about me. I am perfectly capable of keeping the monsters at bay and it's easy to entertain myself in hum drum situations. I love my imagination.
In 7th or 8th grade, home economics was a required class. One of the projects required was an awful, blasted sweatshirt that would try to take the title of Bane of My Existence. As a class, we reviewed how the sewing machine worked and studied the meaning of pattern markings. We learned about the wretched task before being set loose to work at our own speed. I watched as, one by one, my classmates completed their garments. Still, I sat with the too soft, cheap, obnoxious red fabric in pieces. It's not that I did nothing during our class time. I was, in fact, doing the same thing every day - beginning the project.