Tuesday, February 11, 2003

Baby baby baby/when you comin' home (2x)

I been waitin' for you/ by the woodfire stove

When you comin' home

Darling, darling, darling/ take it easy on me (2X)

for I gave you my heart/ my eternal soul

When you comin' home

Sugar, sugar, sugar/ so pale and pure (2X)

I can hear your cry/ through the Nordic winds

When you comin' home

That's the third song I've written this winter, along with "Ephemera" and "So Damn Tired." This one's a simple 12-bar blues line with a solo and cool tag on the end. It's a pretty straighforward song, but with a surprise ending to the music. I finished the lyrics Sunday when Esther and I ate at the Stockholm Inn for breakfast. Swedish Pancakes with lingonberries, baby!

Mr. Pirrello, the regular gym teacher at Kishwaukee Elementary School, has returned. And so here I am in the school library. The good news is, for the time being, indefinitely, my services are still needed. Pirrello told me he slipped two discs in his back when he tripped over a kindergarten child. He's been off his feet all winter and is seeing another doctor tonight to determine if he needs surgery. His expertise will help me come up with new drills and exercises. The only downsides are the indefinite length of my tenure and the depressing realization, after seeing Mr. P in action, that I am no trained educator. Like one little girl put it so bluntly, "Mr. Pirrello's the real teacher and you're just a sub."

There are some really beautiful details in the library. I can tell it used to be the school's theatre, and on either side of the stage, crammed between a shelf and the ceiling are matching plaster sculptures of a barefoot dwarf, back and pointy stocking capped head pushed against the ceiling. His eyes look straight down and he has a big nose. The right hand holds a ruler, the left gestures, almost as if to point. A book fills the space between his raised left arm and hunched knee.

It is quiet in here. All I hear is air, the subtle clack movement of clock and computer whir. I want to come back to this school with a camera and tripod and take pictures of its interior and exterior. I love this old school. It gives me a positive vibe. Its quirky touches and ornate woodwork cannot be found in modern buildings.

The wind howls outside. Earlier today it snowed and I saw leaves and plastic debris gusted down the street. The movement of snow gives the best visual display of wind patterns, from the swirls made when it blows off a roof, to flakes' mid fall change of direction when winds shift. I heard Esther's cry through the Nordic wind tonight and picked her up from work. We spent five minutes figuring out how to best load her bike into the car. It had been months since I'd loaded a bike into the car. Choir practice went well. I feel my voice getting stronger as I re-learn the notes. Reading choir music's old hat. Even though its been years, the old knowledge comes back quick.

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