here and now

I am sick of homework. After getting through high school, college, a PhD, I thought I'd finally be done. But sitting with my second grader, urging him through page after page of math, reading and writing exercises was not something I thought would bother me so much. Or take so much effort. But Punkone has his cycles and right now, he's not on a school up swing. Argh. Spending two hours on a page of math problems he should be able to "calcula velocemente" is no fun. I had to dredge down deep into the depths of my patience to get us happily and positively through that exercise.

I feel disengaged from work in Italy. Hubby and I are talking more and more about moving back to the states, forming concrete plans, and returning to a job I love there. I'm starting to fail in seeing the point of this one. I'd rather be taking one last Italian language course, getting all the shopping and housework done when the Punks are at school, having time to read and exercise, and spending relaxing evenings with the kids. It doesn't help that after a year of working here, I haven't connected with a single person at my job or feel that I would miss any of them if I quit tomorrow.

I talk a lot about squeezing all you can out of life, pushing myself to do it. And as usual, before a transition, my mind departs and doesn't focus on the "here and now."



Maybe a better title for this post would be "limbo land."

A quick search on google for "limbo land" generates first and foremost an extensive list of other bloggers lost there... glad to see I'm not alone.

It also comes up with some interesting images...


Inflatable art, by Neil Bromwich titled "limboland." This is so art gallery, which are indeed limbo lands, if you think about it. I like it. If I were rich and had vasts amount of uncluttered space I could see myself filling it with this kind of contemplative crap. Or maybe if I built a preschool. And I'd let the little monsters wreck it.



This is apparently a book by J.E. Deegan and quite frankly, the cover alone scares the crap out of me.




And my favorite. Also scary, but what an insane piece of pottery! I wonder how big it is? I wonder that because the top says "A MEAL ON A FINGERTIP." What scary twisted freak created this thing? When I see it photographed like this, it's so hideously funky that I love it... but I doubt I'd actually purchase it. I think it might give me nightmares. I'd be a giant trying to serve meals to my tiny human friends from the tip of my finger.

Whoa. That did not go where I thought it would.

Do I dare ask? Oh, why not? What do you think you'd find in limbo land?