Gang Language

Another semester's finished (everyone passed everything) and the gang's all here. Tom & Mary & grand-cat Penny Lane slid down from Kalamazoo on Thursday; Jojo blew in from California last night; Gene put his out-of-office message on his e-mail and his phone. There are piles and pieces of living scattered everywhere. The grand-cat is leaping from bookshelf to bookshelf and stalking Jojo's turtles. Sylvia has already had to sit in her crate for being overly protective of Jo. Today, at last, we can all go and cut the Christmas tree. We're probably going to need bandaids. I looked this morning at my five pairs of scissors all lined up neatly in the kitchen drawer and said, nice knowing you. By this afternoon, they will all have disappeared. But who needs them? I can rip paper with my teeth. I have a thousand hands. In three weeks, when this is all over, I'll be ready for calm and order. Today, however, the chaos feels grand.