Christ it's hot this afternoon. Only the 6th day of April but Jesus.

When I feel this way I'm reminded of elementary school, the high ceilings and air blowing in from outside which smelled so good. Like grass or rotting leaves or burning leaves or low tide. All good things.

I read through all the deliriously happy pages of the Rowayton website thinking, i was really a differnet kind of child. I saw things so much differently than the 1950s happy circles of friends.

One clear memory is the day Stacy Bissell returned from a trip to Europe or California or some place she went with her father and had to miss three months of school. Or maybe three weeks. Anyhow, we were in Mrs. Lies' 3rd grade housed in a temporary classroom in the gym.

All the girls were lined up on the left side of the temporary classroom door and all the boys on the right side , along the inside wall of the gym. Through the main gym doors come stacy and her father, Richard Bissell. EEEk shout all the girls eeeek! Its Stay-ceeeeee! All the girls ran over to her and threw their arms around her, eeek eeek Stacy!. But wait! There were Renee and I, staring and holding our hands behind our backs and gawking. I cannot speak for her, but I know sure as shit I was not going over there to act like a retard over someone who I didn't care was gone and didn't care had come back.