This week is passing simultaneously very quickly and very slowly. It's hard to want lots of things and also want money in the bank. It's also hard to use every weekend to live the social part of my life and also use every weekend to get ready for the next school week. We're reading Macbeth in English 11 right now, and suddenly I'm seeing paradoxes everywhere.
Hopefully football at the Doom House (plus tacos and cake?!) this weekend will snap me out of this haze, and three whole days off next week will be very refreshing. Also, I get to try to make pie again for Thanksgiving. I figure I'm pretty good at following simple directions, so I should be okay. Just, somebody call me up Wednesday afternoon when I'm baking and remind me to cover the crust with foil before it burns. I always forget that part. And compared to apple, I feel pumpkin is a much more even-tempered, easy going kind of pie. Maybe that's why everybody loves it.
At the beginning of this month, I dragged a table up to my front board, climbed upon it, and wrote out the poem "My November Guest" up high where it was out of the way but still in plain view. Now I'm looking for a December poem to put up after break. I've already got one for April, and January will be The Snow Man, but honestly, are there any good December poems? What month did Y.B. Yeats die in?
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