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The house is currently very crowded: Linda; Dad; Auden, a friend of Linda's who is staying for the party; Diana; Matt, Diana's boyfriend; and me. I can't go into the kitchen and make food in the morning without waking someone up. Ennervation.

Yesterday, I went over to Branson, my high school, because I'd promised Mr. Henrikson, my favorite high school history teacher, that I would visit to meet the headmaster. I didn't end up meeting the headmaster, but I did have some strange encounters with my former teachers. One English teacher's first words to me as she tried to place me was "I gave you a ten, didn't I?"(She had a system of grading weekly two page reflections on a ten point scale. It's good to be remembered, I suppose, even if it's for a number.). In my conversations with Mr. H(a Carleton grad & part of the reason I'm at Carleton), he recommended I spend the year after graduation teaching European history at Shattuck-St. Mary's, the big private school in Faribault. I wrote a posting earlier that livejournal refused to post because it was upgrading, and I ended my reflections on this experience by saying that teachers are strange and maybe I should consider being one, at least for a year.

Linda and Auden and I met up with Erica and one of Linda's book groups that evening. We went on a ghost walk through San Francisco that was lead my a guy that was, well, patent fraud with a taste for long, supposedly dramatic pauses. He promised to raise the spirits at the beginning. At the end, he pulled a cup of spirits out from his sleeve. And raised it. Erica and I would have liked a little more history and fewer magic tricks, although we enjoyed the opportunity to wander through San Francisco at night. Erica stayed over at my house and then the next day we went over to Berkeley, to try out a Lebanese restaurant and drop Erica back at her home. I spent about half an hour at her house petting Ozzy, her family's 109 lb. german shepard mutt. He's a big, sweet dog, as advertized.

OK. Must go downstairs and face family. Must finish at least one of the books for the 2 credit reading course.

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So one of the major things my mom and I have been talking about is Grandpa's ability/lack of ability to drive. Then today, driving me home from a rather unsatisfactory visit, mom makes several dangerous moves in her car. This culminates in her almost driving into the 7-yr. old kid next door, who was waiting outside his house for his mother to show up(bad custody case), when she made a U-turn in the street in front of my house. I know him because I've babysat for him. I was ashamed to get out of the car after seeing him run out of mom's way: his father, who I like, probably saw me in the window of the car. For me to effectively confront mom about her driving is near impossible: I did it twice on the ride home and although she made a point of signalling and responding to my questions("Did you see that coming??" "Yes. They can slow down."), she didn't slow down.

My god, I was scared. She thinks I'm a bundle of anxieties and a worrier and that my opinion, or my statements that I was scared, don't need to be heeded. The first part is probably true, but the second...

Gah.

At the moment, judging by her refridgerator and mentions of "what she can't eat", mom is on a diet that involves lots and lots of kelp/seaweed and precludes oranges.
This can't help but thinking that this diet can't be good for her temper or overall well-being.