Hoda's is my third favorite Lebanese place in town. My first favorite is Nicolas on Grand. It is always too crowded and only takes cash; I never carry cash. My second favorite is Yahala, which is terribly s l o w, which doesn't work well with kids. So off to Hoda's we went when Freyja voiced a hankering for "that kind of food that had hummus and really HOT bread."
Everything was good and for once I didn't order too much food.
My last work commitment today was to attend a town meeting at city hall, which was kind of cool in concept and pretty boring in practice. I felt sort of under-dressed, like the token hippie at a business meeting, with my ruffled peasant blouse and red clogs. I am pretty used to spending time with young children and their care providers, and most of my clothing can take crawling around on the floor, and drool. My mother has been nagging me to look more pulled together for years and as I walked into that auditorium, I wished, for a moment that I had listened to her.
We have been re-watching season I of Justified, so that Maxwell can get caught up, he has been watching season two and three with us. It holds up well. It's Elmore Lenard and I like it, what else is there to say?
I have been forcing more books on Maxwell. He just finished "city of thieves" and "the road" (he took it out of my shelf, I would have suggested "the boarder trilogy".
I am trying to get him to give John Irving a twirl, but he might be too young.
He did dig "1984" and has declared it his favorite novel EVER.
We learned that he has been accepted into a small arts charter school for high school. They offer advanced placement with college credit, in tons of classes, a beautiful facility and just too many other perks to list. I feel sort of guilty for abandoning Portland Public, but they just such too profoundly for me to trust my baby to. We have an application in to MLC, Portland alternative mainstay, since the 60's, but really, to tell the truth, Maxwell needs structure, so this goody two shoes school will be a great fit. My mother was beside herself with nerves as we waited for the acceptance letters to arrive, she some how had the notion that I was going to send Maxwell to MLC, a hotbed of pot smoking, juvenile delinquents, in the heart of NW Portland, a neighborhood she never quit trusted, even though I made it my home for ten years. She had the same reaction when I tried to talk her into letting me go there for high school.
I have no idea where she gets her ideas, but she has steadfastly clung to this particular one since 1982.