I'm supposed to be putting together a resume and asking people to write letters of recommendation for me. Strong letters, according to the list of things I need. Not weak. I hate to ask people for those; they're all as busy as I am. I'm going to have to snap out of the reverie I've put myself into as a coping mechanism, and just get all this stuff put together this week. I don't know if I've written about this yet or not, but a few weeks ago I decided the only way to get through this is to distance myself from my work life. It's working really well, I must say. Last week, when they pulled in one of their big dogs to talk to me (she was only a little yipper, I can assure you), I sat at the conference table and observed the meeting from afar. I nodded, smiled. Well, okay, there was one moderately long speech that issued forth from me, but only one. And even that was almost just to amuse myself. When I explained to them that DIBELS is a dangerous decontextualized assessment tool that the district should never have purchased and that they have joined in selling out our children to corporate America, they looked at me as if I have six heads. Nobody can ever say I didn't try to inform their discretion.
I think I must've had a miscarriage yesterday. I've been in distance mode so long, I haven't been paying close attention to things. I woke up cramping and feeling very sick. Then there was a huge gush of blood and what looked like an organ of some sort. I bled for a few hours, then stopped. I was pretty much wiped out the whole day. Mama thinks I should go to the doctor, but I've been through this a whole bunch of times, and the nurse will just tell me to come if I run fever and continue to hurt. Which I haven't and I don't.
I did wake myself up enough yesterday afternoon to draft my Thanksgiving cards and e-mails. I try to let my friends and acquaintances know each year that I am truly thankful for them. Just writing the words makes me think about them fondly and helps me to know how blessed I am to have them. Watch your mailboxes and inboxes.
Sunday I was on the fringe of a conversation about whether or not God did indeed forgive the nation of Israel for crucifying Jesus. I was determined not to get into the conversation, but the first thought I had was that of course He did. But this person seemed to think He did not, because of the destruction of Jerusalem that came in 70 A.D.
All my writing project friends went to Nashville last week; some are still there. I stayed home, because I couldn't get the days off from work. I tried not to think of them there without me, and I succeeded until Kim sent me several e-mails Saturday night. Wish you were here.