I know it looks as if I've been neglecting this lovely little corner of cyberspace, but it was all part of my devious plan to trick all three of the people who had been reading my blog into thinking it was defunct and go away.
Now that they're gone, I will resume my research on the tribe of Savages with whom I seem to be permanently stuck.
Surveying my surroundings:
It's a good-sized dwelling, but it contains an oppressive amount of clutter. I recently started a clutter-awareness campaign, despite the protests of the Savages, and I do think I've made some progress in clearing out key areas of the dewlling. Of course, all the junk wound up in the basement, which is now a complete disaster. If the junk isn't removed from the dwelling permanently soon, I can guarantee that it will slowly but surely work its way back into the rooms I worked so hard to clear out. Such is the nature of my work.
As for the Savages themselves:
They are all male, as far as I can tell. The oldest one is kind of cute, roughly my age, and I have accepted him as a mate. We bunk together and occasionally get some time without the smaller ones around, but not much. He does a lot of crossword puzzles, and he has a talent for making me laugh and taking over with the care of the younger ones when I've had it with them.
The biggest Savage child is taller than me, but only 12 years old. He is the "squeaky wheel" of the group who has the most demands, needs the most attention, and does the most damage. He frequently takes his pubescent angst out on his guitar. He's getting to be pretty good at that guitar. This is good since, despite his genius IQ, he doesn't seem too interested in schoolwork.
The middle child is 9 and is frequently described as an "old soul." He is wise and perceptive, strongly motivated to learn and achieve, and quick to remind us of the forest when all we are seeing is the trees. We have noticed that he is growing his hair long, but we don't bother him about it. He's a good kid, not mean or rebellious or disrespectful. If he's growing his hair, it must be for a good reason.
The littlest one is 5 and very cute. Everyone still calls him "the baby," although this isn't really accurate. He's actually a kitty. Ask him and he will tell you about how he's a special kitty because he has "opposable thumbs." Or he will just meow at you if he doesn't know you well. He's been a kitty for 2 or three years now. We wonder how this is affecting his brain development, but he seems pretty smart, he gets along with the other children, and he fears nothing, so we're just chalking it up to an active imagination.
Then there's the dog. Another male, of course. He provides hours of entertainment for the tribe as they chase him around, put clothing on him, and "talk" like they imagine he would talk. I'm thankful that he can't really talk because I'd be afraid to hear what he'd say, and because it's already noisy enough around here.
It's a very busy tribe, with some kind of schooling or activity going on from the time we get up to the time we collapse from exhaustion at the end of the day. Savageman goes to work early in the morning, and I try to get up before the others do for some uberproductivity time, but the littlest one has superhuman (kitty) hearing and wakes up and finds me before I have a chance to get anything done.
The biggest one is up next, armed with reasons and excuses why he shouldn't have to learn anything from me today, or at least right now. He avoids me as best as he can for as long as he can, pretending he's eating breakfast for three hours.
Finally, the middle one, who is wise enough to realize the power of adequate sleep (or maybe he's wise because he's the only one of us who gets adequate sleep - I'm not sure which) emerges from his room, looking like a bedraggled sea monster with the hair sticking up every which way. He prefers to skip breakfast like I do, which is fine because it won't be long now until lunch. His Savage brothers yell, "AAAAAAgggghhh! A sea monster!" And he waves his tentacles in the air and scampers back up the stairs to get dressed and comb his hair.
The rest of the day is spent engaging in a variety of activities, from math and history and science, to field trips and activities, sports and scouts and martial arts. When we finally reach the end of the day, it feels like I've only done half of what I had planned to get done that day, but again, such is the nature of my work.
Overall, it's not a bad place to be stuck. I like it here.