I, The Dreamy Club Foot

Now from as far back as I can remember, I've been slow. Yes, while other's were quick with the cunning and racing, I was on the sidelines, dreaming or grieving. Getting run over a few times, I have learned to watch for those shooting monkeys. Zip, zip, there they go.

When I do get out and run, I'm kind of like the club footed, I'm rag-tag barely keeping up and this air headedness has caused a great laughter in others. Yes, at my expense, many an endorphin has popped in many a thick head.

Matters not to me. I've got things to do. When I get in the car to run errands, I'm focused. I've got stuff to do and I am not ever in the mood to be called over. This used to cause my oldest son great angst. He'd lament, "Didn't you see me screaming my lungs out down on the corner?" No, I never saw you or heard you. What the hell were you doing on the corner?

Every weekend, I clean house. That's because through the week, my head is wrapped up in books, concepts...ways to approach teaching my son. It isn't that I have no sense of organization, nor a great appreciation for keeping notebooks on any and every subject, it's just that there are not enough hours in the day. So, I have to know what I know. (Though I will be making a special file for trigonometry-I'm fascinated with it and it isn't so simple.) I have to keep it in my head. I don't have someone to look out for me, wash my clothes, wash the dishes, make the bed or clean the floors. This to me is a great tragedy and has been all of my life. My poor mother tried.

It seems to me that it would be a great and terrible hypocrisy if I were to expect my son to know what I do not know and being that I consider housework a tedious waste of my damned time, I don't bother through the week. The Ivory Towers are not filled with housekeepers, if you know what I mean. And, being the dreamy club foot, I just cannot keep up with everything.

On the other hand, when I finally do get around to that dastardly common duty, it is not a common kind of clean. Which could explain why we have not contracted some sort of exotic diseases. Knock wood. That's clean wood, baby.

Here's my biggest confession, I don't like math. It tangles my thinking apparatus. I am geared for words. So, before I go in to learn the finagling of equations, I must learn the lingo and to appease my curiosity, I want to know how trigonometry and calculus talks. So, many times, while my son is on planet earth simplifying algebraic equations or writing a report on King Louis XVI, I am making a giant step for us both on planet Trig.

Yes, as the monkeys are zipping past us, I'm going so fast, you can't see me move. It's called quantum blow your head. Just ask your local science teacher.

Learn more about this author, G E Barr.
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