Long Beach

I really like it here most of the time. It's a nice little city and the people are mostly very friendly. But...

I'm missing Chicago and New York and even lil old Minneapolis because of the weather. It's getting cold there right about now. Or it should be even though it isn't - but that's even more to the problem! It's 65 in Minneapolis and they can't stop going on about the heat wave - I mean...it's November for Christ's sake! It's 65 here and people are, I shit you not, wearing parkas. I want to go back to living where the depressingly early Christmas displays aren't mockingly ironic, what with all the snow flakes and icicles hanging hither and thither.

But what's really got me blue? I'm freezing. I'm wearing layers and socks and dressing the baby* warmly. I keep the windows wide open and try to grit my teeth instead of letting them chatter. As someone said, the blood thins out really fast here.


In happier news Rex's imagination is really taking off. Today he decided that I would be the Man with the Yellow Hat & he would be "Monkey George" which is what he calls Curious George. To be fair, he freaked out a little when I got overly excited and started acting out narrative sections. ("Okay - the ostrich has just swallowed the bugle, you're upset. I'll be over here looking all over for you because I don't know where you are and I'm worried! 'George, George, George!'") He actually looked at me like I was nuts and backed away slowly. But it's great progress.

I'm still worried about the kid at school that Rex says hits him. This came up Sunday night when we were saying our good nights. We were talking about all the nice people when out of the freaking blue he says. "T hit Rex" I thought "WHAT THE HELL?" I said, "what?" He repeated it and this time gently hit my face. I was very proud of myself. Inside I was really going nuts but I maintained my cool on the outside and told him "hitting is not okay, if Timmy hits you ask him to stop and tell Miss Cathy" Seriously, inside I was furious. I don't care how old that little punk is, I'm going to take him out. OUT. B tried to talk me off the ledge reminding me there wasn't anything we could do tonight, he was sure that they were looking out for him at school and what the heck - kids say the damnedest things, etc. The thrust of his point was, at this point the biggest danger was probably freaking Rex out, so not to make too huge of deal out of it. On Monday I mentioned it to the teacher and asked her to keep an eye out. She did say that T was a bit hands on (?) but that she hadn't noticed anything. She got points from me, however, for saying "but Rex wouldn't just say something like that for no reason." When I picked him up, there was no report of any problems and Rex hasn't mentioned it. Until tonight. He goes back to school tomorrow and, to B, he said something about "T hit Rex" again. I don't care if he is another baby* and I'm sure he doesn't have 'bad inentions' - nobody, but nobody, hits my baby.*

Time for the flannel jammies.



* I know he's not a baby anymore. Shut up.