100th Post: Dino-riffic!

So yay for blogging landmarks.

While in the DC area, we went to the outlet malls in Leesburg, VA, where I procured dinosaur cookie cutters at Williams Sonoma. Usually there is a 10 dollar charge just for breathing in Williams Sonoma, but on this day air was free and these most excellent cookie cutters were 4 dollars.

Here are the fruits of our labor: (expert cookie rolling by mom, decoration by Thomas, Meg and my cousin Mina)

Oh, yeah. We also saw these real, actual dinosaurs:






But whatev.

All About Me

On my trip home this weekend, my mom gave me a box of papers from my old bedroom to take home. I was really excited to look in there and see what I might find, so pretty much the second we got home I tore into it. There were notes and letters that I remembered vividly from childhood--one I had even mentioned this weekend--a letter written on crayola stationary by my childhood best friend, informing me that the duck egg that we found and had been saving in her back yard broke when she sat on it and made a terrible smell and that she was in big trouble about it. Also, letters from camp friends, including some from Nikki, who I was lucky enough to get back in touch with this year...old pictures, and a ton of elementary school work. My favorite by far was this:


a book I made in the 2nd grade. It was many pages long, but I chose these to show you.



This is totally hilarious to me. My favorite subjects, it seems, were PE, art and math. PE, art and math? Is this me we're talking about? I spent the better part of the last 10 years figuring out how never to perform PE or math again. I also listed reading and music as my two least favorite subjects. Anyone who knows me should know why that is absurd. I do like, though, that I described schoolwork as "sinchy," as in, it's a cinch!

Here is a list of my favorite things circa 1984:


A side by side comparison, if you will:

Favorites 1984

1. number: 8
2. color: pink
3. subject: math
4. animal: dog
5. flower: rose
6. song: Beat It
7. tv show: WKRP in Cinncinati (sp?)
8. time of day: 3:00 noon (when the hell is 3:00 noon?)
9. day of the week: Friday
10. month: June
11. game: Clue
12. place to visit: New Jersey
13. sport: fishing
14. friends: Larissa, Ann, Sneha, Laura
15. holiday: Christmas
16. section of newspaper: comics
17. movie: Gremlins
18. car: Corvette
19. restaurant: Roy Rogers
20. recording group: beetles (sic)
21. actor/actress: Bill Cosbee (sic)
22. athlete: Mary Luo Reton (sic)
23. teacher: Mrs. Varesco
24. comic strip character: Ziggy
25. thing to wear: Mical Jakson seat sheart (Michael Jackson sweat shirt)

Favorites 2006

1. number: 8
2. color: red
3. school subject: English
4. animal: dog
5. flower: gerbera daisy
6. song: U2 With or Without You
7. tv show: Freaks and Geeks
8. time of day: I'll stick with 3:00--for me, that's still when school gets out.
9. day of the week: Friday
10. month: June
11. game: Taboo
12. place to visit: where ever Kasey is
13. sport: fishing
14. friends: (still friends with Larissa and Ann) Kasey, Michelle, Jennifer, Andrea
15. holiday: Christmas
16. section of the newspaper: classifieds?
17. movie: depends. film? Magnolia. movie? Dirty Dancing or the Breakfast Club
18. car: classic Beetle
19. restaurant: Circa
20. recording group: The Beatles
21. actor/actress: Ed Norton/Laura Linney
22. athlete: Keri Strugg
23. teacher: too many to list.
24. comic strip character: ?
25. thing to wear: platform flip flops

I'm actually amazed to see that I am pretty much exactly the same person in 2006 as I was in 1984.

Not to Brag

but gas station attendants totally love me.

Take today, for instance. Thomas and I went in to a small mom-and-pop style gas station/convenience store halfway between work and home. We wanted to exchange our propane tank.

Gas station attendant: What does your shirt mean?

(My shirt--gift from bff Kasey--says, "Note to self: I'm rad").

Me: I'm rad? It means I'm cool.

Gas station attendant, apropos of nothing, to Thomas: You're lucky man. You're with the cutest girl in town.


Now, before I get too full of myself, this same man accidentally charged me for 300 dollars worth of gas a few months ago. There's no way to pay at the pump there, so I went in to charge $15 dollars to my debit card before pumping. The man ran my card and accidentally typed in $150 dollars. He told me of his mistake and asked if I would like the change in cash. I about fainted and told him I didn't have $150 in my account, so he told me he would quick reverse the charges.

And accidentally charged me $150 again.

It was a huge ordeal; the bank wouldn't forgive the overages and told me I'd have to ask him to pay them...blah, blah, blah; the upshot is, he probably still feels like he has to be nice to me. But it was still nice.

However, it put me in the mind of a few years ago. I wasn't, shall we say, having the best luck with men and this was probably due to the fact that I was drinking my fair share of beer and theirs too. But in any case, near my house there was a Shell station manned by a lovely, if somewhat mouse faced, man named Ralph who took a shine to my drunk ass self. On the day he finally got up the nerve to ask me out (which he did in a very sweet and bumbling way), he was beat to the punch by a homeless guy outside of Lula's. Yep, that's right. I was asked out by a homeless man and a gas station attendant in the same day.

People love me, I'm telling you.

Homeward Bound

Just got home from work...if this isn't the nicest weather we've had all year, I don't know what. I'm feeling that pleasant sense of satisfaction that comes from being very slightly too busy---not a panicked sense of schedule, but of order: first I go here, then here, then here. Never have to think too hard--just get it done.

Part of what's making me busy is that Thomas and I are going home this week--it will be Thomas's first time in MD since we got married. My parents have put an addition on the house since then! I'm looking forward to getting to spend some time with them. Lately all our visits have been 2 days long. Rush in, peform desired activities, rush out. I am very excited about the possibility of visiting the Washington zoo. I love zoos. If I had been more...I don't know, scientific?...I would have wanted to be an exotic animal vet. Sometimes at school I feel like an exotic animal vet.

Still feeling happy with my job decision, though.

Alarmed and Freaked out about Blogger Beta

Ok, so I'm just minding my business, checking out Kim's blog.

What the hell is going on?????

I don't want to switch to Beta! Why can't I comment?????

When I went to dashboard, there was a little box that advertised beta. I clicked on it and it said I would need a google account, so I made one. Now the google account seems to override my login to my blogger account, causing me to freakishly comment as meaghanwgilbert, which is so not me, even if it is, technically, me. I do not like this. Plus, I am ridiculously committed to my archives and if anything were to go wrong...well, I just don't know if I could go on.

Who besides Kim has switched? Please calm my fears.

Can Pee For

Dude, someone got to this blog by searching google for "can pee for."

I think I'm really, really proud about that.

Amusingly, I am one of the very few people I know who "can pee for" as I partake in no illegal activities. I was once recruited in that capacity (though it is probably illegal to admit such) and got someone a much higher paying job than I myself currently have.

Sugar Free Chocolate is the Devil

This is true. It may be that I just haven't tasted real chocolate in so long that I can't remember what it actually tastes like, but this Russell Stover stuff tastes exactly right to me. So naturally, I want to consume it in vast quantities, but it makes me seriously ill. I'm struggling right now to eat only one serving of M and M's...but dude. What if I just ate the whole package, and got sick all at once?
Sometimes I think these weird foods will cause a whole new kind of eating disorder.

It's Friday, the sun is out, and I was treated to the unspeakably cute sight of one of my dogs waiting impatiently on the porch for the other one to finish his meal. She won't go downstairs unless he comes too. I'm home from work...don't have to grade til Sunday...there's some beer in my future and I'm hoping my sister will let me come over and raid her library. Got a small raise. Today, everything seems in its right place.

Hoo-rah!

Random Stuff

So, other than a previously mentioned drinking binge--which, in its highlight, included a fine meeting with all my favorite bloggers and, in its lowlight, involved me drinking keg bud lite--nothing much is going on.

Please note that I linked to Fanboy--you should all be reading Thomas's newsletter which is high-larious, truly, even though I am is wife and I have to say that. Also, each week includes Bryan Sandala's head in various strange photoshops, so you really must see it.

Gerber daisies, freshly planted: still alive. (miracle).
Beer in fridge: none.
Plants planted with small children in classroom setting: 6.

Just finished: Life of Pi, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, The Time Traveller's Wife. Faith in Fiction: restored.

Beer Consumption at All Time High

This is how the Gilbert family prepares for hurricanes. I also have an amusing picture of Thomas holding up batteries and beef jerky. Because apparently everything you need for a hurricane begins with the letter B. (Now I am thinking of the Sesame Street song "Letter B" sung to the tune of "Let it Be." Get that out of your head, I dare you.)

However, none of our B named supplies were necessary during fauxicane Ernesto, and so I feel it is my duty to begin ridding our fridge of these extraneous items.



Needless to say, I'm not feeling so well this morning.

Off Work Tomorrow!

Whoot!

1st, let me say, Kim Shable, do not let Ernesto stop you!! This is a big fat pile of nothing that has been exaggerated (and you lived here, so you know they ALWAYS do). This morning at 6 am, as it drizzled, WWAY news channel 3 had a reporter standing on the beach in a raincoat saying, "Well, Jim, it's raining significantly harder than it was a few minutes ago." Yeah, that's because it wasn't raining at all a few minutes ago. Yes, it is raining right now, as I'm sure it will continue to do until tomorrow, but seriously, we've had worse flash floods this summer.

2nd, I hope all this does not enrage Ernesto and cause him to be my first real hurricane. Ernesto, listen up. You are big and bad. I am not messing with you.

3rd, let me say that for the first time EVER! I am out of work tomorrow for weather related causes. We accidentally sheduled 2 more school days than we needed this year, so my boss said to just take it and forget about it. I am so excited! Yet slightly worried about being trapped in Lula's incase the above message did not appease Ernesto.

Does anyone know a song about Ernesto? Cause I want to sing one. Maybe I can just substitute Ernesto for Fernando.

Happy First Day of School

Tra-la-la, it's the first day of school. Or, I should say, the first day of school is over. Hence, the singing. Nothing is ever as bad as the first day back...the chaos, the parents milling around, the inability of anyone under the age of 7 to sit in his or her seat, the bathroom emergencies, the tears, the vomit...we had it all today. But it is over and tomorrow begins the real school year.

Saw Barry Corbin again today but refrained from embarrassing myself. Soon, I feel like, we'll be hanging out.

Geeky Boy Radio Stations

So has anyone else noticed that new radio station called "Will"? I think it's 98.7. The premise is that it's run by this guy named Will who has a million CDs and doesn't care about formatting--i.e. there's music from all decades, all kinds.

This would be ok, but the whole station in actuality seems like a study in mediocrity. It's not quite any kind of radio station and the things they play always seem like 2nd rate songs that you're not trying to hear every day. They'd be good every once in a while. Like GNI's 80's weekend--why must we hear the same 60 songs from the 80's! There were, in fact, other songs. And Will plays those other songs...except for that's all he plays.

Anyway, while we were away in Raleigh, we heard 98.7 there. It's called "Simon." I'm not sure what Simon's excuse for being is, like maybe he's an old man with a hoarding problem who has too many cds or something, but basically it was the same. This made me wonder--is this, like, sweeping the nation? Does every city now have a radio station with no djs and no formatting and a fake posterboy with an emo name?

Is Quentin out there? or Spencer? Nigel?

Hey, right now my counter is at 2222. And it's friday. :)

Quit yo...etc

Good Lord, This Rain

Will it never end? I'm happy not to have to water the miles of garden I decided to plant in the spring when it was bearable out, but still.

In happy news for today, I HAVE A JACUZZI! Yes, it's true. I am now so spoiled by technology that it is a wonder I even have to feed myself.
On Sunday, when we returned from GSO, it was a humid jungle inside the house. Wha-huh? We said. How can this be, as Thomas keeps the house sub-zero no matter the weather outside. My sister was taking care of the dogs (Thank you!) so we thought maybe she had turned the AC off to conserve. But no, it was just not working.

We called the landlord, who offered various solutions by phone. Did you turn it off and on again? yes. Did you check the fuse box? yes, but it is full of pre-war inexplicable fuses. But they seem ok. None are brown or melted. Is it frozen over? no. Finally he came out. We checked all those things again. Status: the same. My landlord somehow managed to get an AC guy to the house at 9 on Sunday night, because he is a genius in all things. The AC guy found a hidden fuse box under the house that none of us, including the landlord, knew was there. The breaker marked AC was thrown.

Hey, he said. There are two more thrown. One for the kitchen and one marked "Jacuzzi." We threw them all back. Suddenly, I have AC, outlets in the kitchen and a working Jacuzzi tub. Yeeee haw. I took a bath in it yesterday and it was delish.

In further good news, school was very good today. I am happy to say that the school has hired a second elementary school teacher and we seem to be getting along well and they painted my room this year in lovely yellows and blues. It felt great to get home at 3:30 today.

Quit yo jibba jabba!

Defining Moments

So this weekend, Thomas and I went home to Greensboro. Since 1995, from the first hour that I set foot on the Guilford College campus, I've considered Greensboro my home. I was the first person I knew to begin to refer to her dorm as home; my calendars showing breaks showed entries like, "home to MD" and then, "home to NC". I've always considered myself not a transplant to North Carolina, but someone who was just born in the wrong place. I am North Carolinian. But more than that, I've always thought of myself as a native of Greensboro.

When I first moved to Wilmington, I was so crushingly homesick that I didn't think I'd make it a year. I seriously considered dropping out of school to return home; in fact, the only reason I ever made it here in the first place was that UNCG didn't take me. Everything that seemed to make me who I considered myself to be was there, as well as everyone I loved. It didn't help that my marriage was falling apart and that our best and happiest times were there. My desire to return was metaphorical as well as literal. I remember my first husband asking me angrily one night why I insisted on treating Greensboro like Xanadu. But to me, Greensboro was Xanadu. I felt very much in control of my world there. I couldn't drive yet, but I could walk to the grocery store, school, a movie theater, my favorite bar. I worked and lived among like-minded, liberal Quakers. I belonged.

Going home this weekend, I was finally forced to admit that I am more at home in Wilmington than I ever was in Greensboro. Partly that's because I can drive now and so have a kind of interior map of Wilmington that I never had of Greensboro. But partly it's being older; that more of the choices I've made here have made an ultimate difference to my life; that my job and my friends and my husband are here; that Wilmington is smaller and more manageable than the insane sprawl of Greensboro; and that, although I refused to see it for the longest time, this really is a beautiful town.

I felt sad driving out of Greensboro yesterday. I thought, that might be the last time I ever go home.

But, I did eat in the best restaurant in the whole world. REARN THAI! Thomas and I have been known to drive 150 miles out of our way to eat in this restaurant. It's nothing fancy, just a hole in the wall Thai restaurant with the best damn Thai food ever. So much better than our fancy "gourmet" Indochine or Rim Wang--this is real stuff, made by real Thai people, meant to be eaten, day in day out, not just for special occasions when you've saved up enough damn money. When I was in school, for 3.75 at lunch you got a drink, a spring roll and an entree. So, naturally, I ate there almost every day.

It's one of the few things I can always find my way to in Greensboro, even if I don't know the names of the stupid roads. Seeing this sign, I was so excited. But then we pulled up and saw this:

I seriously thought I would perish. Rearn Thai, closed? It was bad enough when I found out that my favorite GSO bar, Dolley's, had closed. But not Rearn. It couldn't be. But then I read the sign more closely. It advised me to turn around. And I saw this:


Rearn! In a nice new home! It was very exciting. I actually left a love note to Rearn on the back of our check, stating that this would always be my favorite restaurant, no matter where I lived and Congratulations on the beautiful new building, etc. Thomas might have been a little embarrassed of me, but I was happy. I made him swear that no matter where I am when I am dying, I want Rearn Thai food flown in. We ordered 2 appetizers and 3 entrees and I nearly died of happiness, though I did eat rice which is shameful and wrong.

Rearn is one of the four things in the world that I would happily advertise for. The others are Mr. Clean Magic Erasers, The Swiffer Vaccuum and my vet, Brad Kerr.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about things like this: who I would be publicly associated with. It's tied in to my thinking about myspace, about making lists of things that we think define us in some way, about our use of those names of books, bands, people, and products that we represent ourselves with. One of the things I'm interested in is how quickly people who know us could figure out who was meant by a list. For instance, most people list The Beatles on their myspace page. How many words do I have to add before you know unequivocally that it's me we're talking about?

The Beatles
Stephen King
Eminem

I mean, these are very popular things, but I think we think of ourselves as unique combinations of them.

Twin Peaks
80's music
Sue Miller

Oh, P.S., while I'm thinking about it, I saw the coolest thing in Jane Magazine (you can add Jane to my list above) about a website that is selling buttons, not with band names, but with author names!! You could bust out your old jean jacket and cover it with Donna Tartt and Michael Chabon buttons. I'm googling for the website right now but not finding anything. I'll have to go back and look in the magazine.

edited to say: Found it! it's pianoandscene.com

Anyway. My list would have to include Rearn Thai, Donna Tartt, Holistic Veterinary Medicine, Platform flip flops, the word "whatev", dogs of all sorts, etc.

Thomas and I were thinking about phrases that are particular to some people, like my "whatev" and his "are you kidding me?" We have this Mr. T keychain with 6 of his famous phrases:



including: "I pity the Fool" (of course) and "Quit yo jibber jabba!" which is my particular favorite. We imagined making these for our friends and recording their most quintessential phrases.

Mine would have to be:
Crap in a bowl!
How exciting!
Fucksie Ducksie.
Whatev.
Whhhaaaatttttt? (This should be very high pitched and drawn out).
and Dude.

Sorry for the insane length of this post. It's been a while.

Dead Raccoon Road

So here's something you should know about me: I didn't learn to drive until I was 23. I got my license at 19 but never actually drove a car until I was 21 and not with any kind of regularity until I was 23. I don't think I took another human being in my car until I was 24. Driving has always been an issue for me.

When most people are 15, their parents begin to take them out in the family car to learn to drive. Nothing fancy, just some back roads, some parking lots, what have you. That way when the child is 15 and a half and enters drivers ed, he or she knows which one is the gas and which one is the break, and some rudimentary steering techniques, so as not to endanger the instructors or anyone else outside the immediate family. My parents did not do this. The first time I sat in the driver's seat of a car was with a scary old italian man with hairy knuckles who had never encountered a 15 year old who had no idea how to drive. Needless to say, it did not go well and I did not attempt Drivers Ed again until I was 19 and prepared to actually get a license.

My parents attribute my unwillingness to drive as a direct result of having learned to drive the riding lawn mower at an early age. I grew up on almost two acres of flat, grass covered land that had to be mowed frequently, and so my dad taught me to ride the lawnmower, probably when I was 11 or 12. I would get that lawnmower going in 5th gear and ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM. Except that several times, even with the absolute visibility, I hit a tree or the fence. Hard. And they are probably right. It did scare me a bit to think that I could do that in a car. Trees don't sue. At least, not yet.

But all this not driving affected my sense of direction and caused me to never have any idea how to get anywhere. I don't even know the real names of roads. I think of them as that one by Ruby Tuesday or, in a famous incident: Dead Raccoon Road. In Greensboro, where I went to school, there was a road that is much like our New Center Drive, not in that it is clogged with huge discount stores, but that it connected College and Market, also the two main roads of Greensboro. Or at least I think that's true. But anyway, one night I saw a man by the side of the road, cradling a raccoon in his arms and giving it what totally looked like CPR. Subsequently, I have no recollection of what the actual name of this road is, which makes it difficult when we go home to visit.

As we are doing this weekend. Dead Raccoon Road, here I come.

Hrm

well, I quit the job today. I feel all weird and shaky and nervous inside, like you do when you know you're about to be caught doing something bad. I think part of the weirdness is that I'm having trouble getting in touch with my school, which is making me worried that I've been fired in absentia and am now jobless. Will try to just be ok and enjoy the weekend and my whopping two days off this summer.

There is a pain in my right eye, but I'm hoping that's just stress. Have broken the news of my quitting to my dad and received obligatory lecture about health insurance, but all in all, I think it went better than I expected. I just hope he's still proud of me.

I want to be funny and write funny things. I know I had a whole list saved up from when I was blog-less, but now of course I can't think of anything. I'm tired of whining on my blog. When does life get easier? Does anyone know?

Home at Last/Technical Difficulties

Oh, how I missed the blog. I kept feeling really afraid that Pen would move me into the "People Who Should Blog More" catagory.

But, happily, for myriad reasons, I'm coming home to roost. I've decided to go back to teaching. I know, I know. In a month, I'll remember how incredibly stupid that is. But right now I am just so damn unhappy. (Daisy--how are you? We forgot to check in). And I've decided that if I'm going to spend more time at work than I do at home with Thomas and the dogs, it sure as hell better be something I like doing. So I'll be returning home again daily at 3, which sounds incredible. And the plan (though I've never been so good at sticking to them) is to pursue potential ministerial interests in that extra time.

Meanwhile, I am overjoyed at 1. having my blog's password again. 2. Having DSL. 3. Being able to receive phonecalls while online. 4. Knowing I've only got 3 days left in that hellhole. 5. Knowing who is on the phone before I answer it, thereby deflecting any "why on earth are you quitting?" phone calls.

The other night, Thomas and I were watching TV and flipping through our 3 channels (it will be at least 3 more years before I can be talked into cable or a cell phone) when we noticed that FOX had frozen in the midst of an Altel commercial. We sat there and watched frozen FOX for 17 minutes, debating how long this had been going on and placing bets on how long it would continue. Somehow, we had more fun watching this error than watching actual TV. I called my mom and made her turn on FOX to see if it was a local or national problem, but, just like smoking a cigarette while waiting for your food to come, it immediately caused the TV to unfreeze.

Oh! in further exciting TV news, I saw Barry Corbin at Charley Brownz tonight. I know he's there, like, every night, but before I didn't know who he was. This year I inhaled the first three seasons of Northern Exposure, so I was excited about it and I was really hoping to see him again. Unfortunatly, I walked into the bar and loudly said to Thomas, "Where's Maurice?!" Thomas pointed out that he was um, right there. I can only hope he thought I said, "Where's the beef!?"

Damn Lack of Pictures

Hey all. Does anyone have any idea why my new DSL doesn't allow me to see pictures on this here lovely internet? Pen suggested my firewall being too high...it was already on medium so I set it to low. Google suggested that I change my encoding for internet explorer...did that....still nothing. I can't live without my pictures!!

In other technology news, I finally got caller ID. This is a service I think is totally frivolous and I would never voluntarily sign up for it, but it was part of my "bundle" from BellSouth that helped me achieve cheap DSL, so what can you do. I happened to have a phone with a Caller ID display on it, so I plugged it. Let me just tell you how much I LOVE caller ID. It makes me feel very spoiled and well taken care of to have something so unnecessary. I want to thank the phone and pet it and give it a treat.

That's all for this moment.

I'm back!!

in short:

storm blew out modem
decided to get DSL
have been internet-less for days. subsequently freaking out.
back online. DSL totally mysterious. Why can I not see any pictures???
will blog about many stored up things as soon as I figure out this madness.

Games People Play

Last night, my friend Bernie came over for dinner and we all got talking about strange games we played as kids and their rules. This occurred because someone farted. I will not say who, but I will say that it wasn't me, because I'm still the kind of girl who goes to the bathroom to fart like a civilized person.

Anyway, Thomas was telling us that when he was a kid, they all played this game called doorknob. When someone farted, if you yelled "doorknob!" you got to beat the shit out of the farter until they reached a doorknob and touched it. Thomas said that many people began forecasting their farts by drifting toward doorknobs in mid conversation. You could also yell "Safety!" before someone yelled "Doorknob!" if you were the farter to escape a beating, however, I supposed that in doing so, you'd be announcing to the general public that it was you who farted, and not, as is commonly believed, that he who smelt it, delt it.

Bernie and I agreed that this seemed like a Southport game and never made it as far as DC (where I grew up) or Texas (Bernie).

We discussed "Jinx," as Bernie felt that if you were jinxed you had to be silent or buy someone a coke, as was shown on The Office. In our version of jinx, if two people said the same thing at the same time and one yelled "jinx!" the other could not speak until someone said his or her name. You could also yell "Personal Jinx!" and in that case only the jinxer could free you by saying your name.

In further discussion, we debated on whether you had to kiss (me) or punch (Thomas and Bernie) someone when calling a one-headlight "padiddle." We also found discrepancy over whether you had to lift your feet, touch the ceiling of the car and make a wish when: a. going over railroad tracks or b. going through a yellow light.

Can anyone vouch for these games or rules?

Just When I Thought Things Couldn't Get Any Worse...

I get pink eye.

Went to Medac today; home of sickly broke people with no insurance. I follow the cardinal rule of going to Medac--I walk in, announce what is wrong and what they should do about it, as I have long since found that this is the only way to achieve any kind of medical care in these places.

Them: What seems to be the trouble?
Me: My eye is red and gummy. I think I have pink eye.
Them: Hmm... seems like you might have pink eye.

The doctor puts gross orange stuff in my eye and shines a black light in it, he says to rule out any corneal scratches or foreign crap in my eye. Nope, nothing found. He gives me a prescription for an antibiotic, tells me not to rub my eye and sends me to the front desk to pay.

Woman at Front Desk: That will be 400 dollars.
Me: What the fucking fuck???

They refuse to back down. I say, "Seriously. The doctor looked in my eye and told me I have pink eye. That costs 400 dollars?" Yes, they say. I demand an itemized bill. They offer me "credit options." I cry. I send the girl back twice to find out if this can possibly be correct. She explains that yes, it is correct, because of the "procedure" the doctor perfomed on my eye. I say, "you mean when he shined a light on it? Because if I had known that would be 400 dollars, I would have never let him do it." I point out that there is no way that I will even be able to fill the prescription he has given me now that I am giving them everything I own. They graciously offer to check the "generic okay" box on my prescription. I send the girl back again (they still haven't produced an itemized bill). She comes back and says that because they had to remove foreign objects from my eye, it will be 400 dollars. I point out that they did not fucking remove any fucking foreign objects from my fucking eye.

Woman at Counter: "Oh, really? I must have typed the wrong code. Oh, well then, that will be 132 dollars."

What a damned racket. I don't know how many people just let them get away with that, but I think it's nothing but extortion. They knew I was desperate and had no insurance. I'd already talked to the nurse AND the doctor about that. Leeches.

And I have pink eye.

Fashionista

Up til recently, I had a very definite sense of style. And that style included many, many black articles of clothing. I can't remember when I started wearing black, but I do recall that until I was 14 years old I was not allowed to wear all black. I'm not sure why that was...if my parents thought I'd instantly become a wiccan or that I might fall in with some dastardly all-black wearing group of 13 year olds or what. (Though they did show a distinct dislike, also, for floral dresses).
Also, I can recall Mr. Secrist, my high school psychology teacher and object of my only teacher-crush, saying in class that black made things appear tall and slim (two things which I generally do not appear). And so I began buying predominantly black clothing.
I should note here, as well, that apart from liking black things, I also had an enormous number of tee shirts. Not the kind that boys wear, but the simple, v-necked, unadorned ones that you get at Old Navy for 6.99. This appeared to be the sum total of my ability to dress myself.

Recently, I took a strange job that requires me to dress like my co-workers.
I am totally serious, and this is the proof.
Suddenly, I had to fill my closet with clothes of various colors. AAAH!

I ran straight to Good will and bought v-necked tee shirts in 5 colors and hoped for the best. But no! I looked like a frumpy old woman compared to the other girls--and I'm the second youngest.

So I went out and bought clothes this weekend. Honest to goodness, real live, girls wear them, clothes. I bought things in peach and yellow and lavender and pink. I bought things with keyhole necklines and lace trim and layers. I bought a new handbag for the first time since 1999 (don't you know by now I'm not kidding?)

I would have bought shoes, too, but I dropped one on my big toe and it hurt so bad that I swore off shoes for today. But I think that's ok, because I think I had decent taste in shoes all along.

I'm a brand new girl.

Strange Childhood Fears

Today I cut open my finger with a pair of scissors, accidentally. I was peering into my finger in the morbid way one has of wanting to see how deep it is and what the hell all is going on in there when I remembered this from my childhood:

When I was little, I heard somewhere that we have 7 layers of skin. This made sense to me, as sometimes you could scrape yourself but it wouldn't bleed. But I thought that we had 7 layers of skin total, as in, we only got 7 layers for our whole life. If you fell down and scraped your knee, well then, too bad for you, there would just be a hole in your knee forever.

My dad, for some reason, when he was little, thought that if you got a cut in the web of skin between your thumb and your first finger, you would die.

My mom thought that if a dog bit you, you would automatically get rabies. Once her childhood dog bit her and she just lay down on her bed and waited to die.

I wonder if all kids think of death in this way, as if it's always around the corner, brought on by papercuts and skinned knees and nips by family pets.

Or if it's just my crazy ass family.

Further Ramblings About Why Work Sucks

I'm such a slack ass.

This has just been the kind of week where you wish you could ask for a do-over. I'm still struggling with the job thing. I had my 30 day review on Wednesday which went well, but I still feel as if I'm just not relating. Even if I'm making my boss happy, if the people who I'm actually working with are unhapy, than I guess it isn't working. I'm pretty seriously confused about what I want to be doing. On drunken Friday night at 2:30, I felt sure that I would go back to teaching, and use the extra time (when teaching I got off at 3 instead of 6) to pursue other things (more on those later). But today I just don't know. I know that teaching is familiar, that I won't be frightened, that I relate well to my co-workers, that I like getting off at 3...but. But where I work, I have to pay for everything: paper, pencils, workbooks, art supplies, reading books, the damned electric pencil sharpener...and I think in my haste to get out of something unfamiliar and unwelcome, I'm forgetting the incredible hassle of teaching someplace that never tells you anything, just expects you to figure it out for yourself and keep plugging along. And once I'm in, I'm stuck for a year. I've seen teachers leave mid-year, but I don't think I could do it. It's too hard on the kids.

I just miss doing something that I consider to be worthwhile. No matter how hard, how frustrating, how tiring my job was while teaching, at the end of the day--or, more importantly, at the beginning of the day, I knew why I was doing it and I felt good about it. That's the Quaker influence in me. I didn't dread work when I woke up in the morning, and when people asked me what I did, I was proud. It's hard to feel that way about filing charts in a dentist's office, particularly when your day is punctuated by people pointing out your myriad mistakes in a tone that implies that you are a total moron.

So last week I tried to brainstorm with Thomas about what I might actually like to do. Like if we threw out the last six years: forget the MFA, the teaching, parent's expectations, my own expectations, the need for health insurance, everything. Forget all that. What am I good at? What would I like to be doing? It scares me that it's so hard to answer that question. And the answers there are aren't particularly good ones. But here's the one I'm really focused on: I'm an ordained minister (as most people are in the internet age) and beyond that I have a degree in creative writing. I love weddings and I love planning and decorating and crafts and trying to help people achieve dreams on a budget. So, ok. What if I advertised myself as a minister who does custom ceremonies--catering to those who want non denominational weddings, or interfaith weddings, or gay weddings. I could write and perform them. And then maybe get into a little wedding planning.

I know this is a pipe dream; that really my choices are just to suck it up teaching or suck it up filing charts. But I really feel like I just need some hope right now. I always council people with unsatisfactory houses or roommates or whatever that you must be happy at home. You spend too much time there for it not to be a safe, good place. But why shouldn't I feel that way at work. Hell, if I'm going to spend 40 hours of my week doing something, can't I dare to hope that it would be something I like?

Imperfect Haikus for an Imperfect World

Eternal Question:
Which came first, the ketchup
or the hot dog?

Young, blue-eyed hot dog
Why do you defile yourself
with vile condiments?

Tasty, tan and long
Get your mind out of the gutter!
Not that kind of hot dog!

I don't like to eat
Things that can taste me back
or lick their own chops

It puts the mustard
On its skin or else it gets
the hose again.

Who knew a hot dog
had fingernails? Or eyebrows
for that matter.

Ketchup and mustard...
Hot dog becomes quite tasty.
Is it a death wish?

I make myself
more delicious in your eyes.
Ah, self destruction.

New Additions

So it was car buying day in my family on Friday.

I got this Daewoo (it's so fun to say Daewoo. Dae WOO!)




And Thomas got this here Dodge Caravan. I told him that if he needs to man up his car, he can get our friend Tom Fleming to paint nudie girls on the side of it.




These are our two strays: Orange Julius and Harriet. I will stop now. I will not become the crazy cat lady.



We didn't end up trading in our current cars, so there are now four cars belonging to us outside of our house. Anyone want to buy a Saturn for cheap?

I am a Slack-Ass Blogger

C'est moi!

Nothing much has been going on. I've been catching up sporadically with an old friend who recently pointed out to me that 1. I went with him to prom when I was a freshman in college and 2. His mom once accidentally got lit on fire during a party at my parents house. Good times.

Wow. I think that's the first time I've ever uttered that particular phrase.

Something tore my garden to bits, so I've been quietly mourning it; and it looks like we may have taken a fancy to, not one, but two of the neighborhood stray cats.

Work is hard, but is getting to be bearable. Some days are better than others. I'm looking forward to my one-month checkup with Daisy. I am hoping that we will both feel better by then.

I'm considering posting the entire contents of our jukebox, seeing as it took 6 hours for us to choose songs and reload it. I only like to do it once a year because it's so damn hard. But I'm pretty happy with it right now. Some of my favorite selections are Prince "Cream" and Big Country "In a Big Country."

That's all for now. I have to make time to drink my wine.

Fanboy Comics--That's How We Roll

This is my friend Jennifer dressed as Wonder Woman for Thomas's charity auction to benefit the Christopher Reeve foundation.

She looks hot.

Just for Fun

My mom in a Burger King mask.

International House of Kumquats

Everyone posting about myspace lately has made me wonder what the attraction for me is. I'm not making new friends or looking for someone to date. I don't read the bizarre novel chapters sent to me by one of my "friends" every single day. Because my connection is so slow, I can't even see the funny clip of the burger king that's on my page.

But I think we all crave some sense of connection from the internet. Since 1994 or so we've been told that it's bringing people together, making the world smaller, the internet superhighway!! We want to map out our own space and use that space to proclaim ourselves and connect with others. I really do think that we think of the internet in terms of connections. I think that's why myspace and friendster are so popular; the way in which you get to collect your own connections.

My first internet connection was in 1994. It was a bbs (remember those?) in the DC area called IHOK (int'l house of kumquats) run by an awesome guy named Geoffrey Claussen. His handle was Pickle. Because of the beauty of google, I looked up it's old address in the (then mysterious cyber world):
202-537-0556
International House of Kumquats, Intl House of Kumquats
(1993-1996) Geoffrey Claussen WWIV

You had to dial into it with your modem (my friend Kim called in on an actual 300bps modem. Posts came onto the screen letter by letter. I'm not even kidding). It was incredible. I have no memory at all of how I found it or learned to use it, but it defintely changed my life. I met this group of amazing, intelligent, artistic, thoughtful kids from all around the DC area, people I would otherwise have never met. So much of my taste developed during that time, just being exposed to what these people were into and getting to post about it, endlessly, on IHOK. I mean, like all groups of teenagers, we had sex and gossip and all that, but I still remember it as something purer, something I felt I needed.

I have to give my parents credit for even letting me do it. People were a lot more afraid of strangers then, I think. There was no real internet yet; we weren't accustomed to the idea of meeting people that way. The first time all the ihokians got together (these events were called 'kumquasia') I was actually allowed to go to DC by myself and meet a bunch of strangers. Once, on the 4th of July, I was allowed to host kumquasia at my house, a big co-ed sleepover in the basement. Yeah, my parents were cool.

I miss those guys. Some I've been able to track down over the years, but others, honestly, I can't remember their real names. Or sometimes I'll remember parts, but not enough.

Old ihok members, come and find me! I was Tig and I miss you all!

WAH!

I posted a huge birthday post for Thomas yesterday, complete with 6 pictures and blogger ate it. I shake my fist at blogger!

Now I will try again.

Preparing for the drinking

Lasagna Festival! (Count all 4)

Thomas's favorite jukebox

Cheers!

Tom Fleming did not sneak into this picture.

We sincerely hope that everyone had a very good time.

Plagued with Self Doubt

I'm sorry that this is not funny pictures of drunk people eating lasagna. I'll post some pictures from Thomas's birthday later on today or tomorrow.

I'm kind of freaking out about my job, which I know makes no sense, but there it is. I feel like I'm just not catching on fast enough, or like this period of burdenhood isn't ending as quickly as I would have hoped. I'm still bumbling and confused; I still forget things; I still make mistakes. I don't even know what all the rooms are called, yet! If someone says into my earpiece, "I need help with charting in OP-2," I might know how to chart, but I don't know where OP-2 is. I'm past the point where I feel like I can ask that.

When I was 14, my mom went back to work after being an at-home mom for my whole life. She jumped straight into being someone's personal assistant and she did that job until my family was financially stable enough for her to come back home (about 5 years). I wish I could call her now and ask her if it was hard, if she made mistakes, if she sometimes felt like there were things she should just know.
I mean, I'm starting to feel like something's wrong with me, like why am I not good at ANYTHING? I don't automatically understand copiers, I have trouble with my weird headset, I seem lately to have difficulty even just being bubbly.

I really do feel like I've never done anything that I was truly a natural at. I'm sure that's not true, but that's how I feel right now.

I know what my mom will say if I ask her. She'll say of course it's hard and she'll say that I'm probably smarter than any of those people and that I'll catch on in no time and I know that she means that, but in my heart, I know it isn't true. Those girls are just as smart as I am, if not more so. And I'm never going to be able to cram into the next few weeks what they've learned and developed in the last 6 years.

I just don't want to be a dissapointment to people. I don't want to feel like a walking apology. I don't want to be shown any more of my mistakes.

Damn, I don't want to go to work today.

Heh.

Happy Birthday Thomas!!

Happy Birthday to my lovely husband who is 32 today.

It's a lasagna festival!!

I'll post pictures of tonight's craziness tomorrow. But for now, our redone jukebox:

That's Fun!

Total paranoia is making me take this one down. Hope those of you who saw it enjoyed it.

OMG

New Cell Phone Prevents Drunk Dialing

Finally! Some useful technology!!

But, like, what if you need to call cab?

Actual Quote

JC Chasez sez: "It's wild, man, but I get an impression from perfume. If a girl wears vanilla, I think, 'Oh, she's sweet.' If it's patchouli, I think, 'That girl is smart.'"

or else that girl is a dirty, dirty hippie.

All Together Now

Everybody can give me a great big, "I told you so!"
The job is going fine. This week is better than last week and slowly but surely, I'm getting the hang of it. Now, as long as I never, ever have to schedule a post-op, everything should be ok.

I wish I had anything interesting to report, but I totally don't.

Last Evening's Debauchery

It all began innocently enough at Circa.



The first sign of things to come was when I decided to try to eat this entire creme brulee. I did not succeed.



My lovely girls



Notice how Tom Fleming keeps sneaking into these pictures. Quit it, Tom!!






Goodniiiiiight!

Why Squid Don't Have Surprise Parties

The awesome birthday card that Thomas gave me. Notice the use of the word "dude;" perhaps my favorite word ever.



Flowers that were kind enough to bloom for my birthday, including the elusive red sunflower.









My friend Jennifer gave me this here Big Daddy hydrangea.



We may adopt the stray previously mentioned in "This Cat is the Boss of Me." We have named him Orange Julius.

Happy Birthday to Jina (and me)

Hurrah! It's Thursday and I am home! Fridays at my work are half days with no patients seen, so I'm looking forward to that.

Today Jina, one of my oldest friends, is in town and it is her birthday. I've known Jina since we were 6 years old and we've always enjoyed that our birthdays were only 2 days apart, thinking, in the way that only little girls do, that this somehow made us like twins. We haven't gotten to celebrate together in about 15 years. We're going to the Little Dipper, which should be nice. The last time that we were there, we sat in the window, and randomly, about 6 people I knew walked by. I kept having to stop the conversation and wave. This made me look incredibly popular which made me happy. I think Jina actually said, "Do you, like, know everybody here?" Why yes; yes, I do.

My birthday is Saturday and I will be 29, which I am very happy about. I love to get older. It makes all the mistakes I've made seem further in the past and less insane.

New Job List

Nails broken: 2
Mistake Made: 6 that I can think of off the top of my head
Blisters: 3
Lunches spent sitting in Subway and reading: 2
Incidents of Whispering that I am Somehow Convinced are About my Incompetance: All


Days Worked: 2

But this is not a negative report, believe it or not. I'm tired as hell, yes. My feet hurt, yes. My right hand has been torn to oblivion by scary revolving filing system, yes. But I hope that with some time I will get used to this and maybe even be good at it. I want the girls to like me. The only thing that is really bothering me is that right now I am more a nuisance to them than anything else.

Time to go to bed: now?

I Dress My Pets in Tutus and Kiss Them on the Mouth

Feeling like I should check in, though there is not much to say.

I'm quietly freaking out about my new job tomorrow--not in a bad way, just in the way that you do when things are new and different and you are likely to make mistakes.

My dogs killed a kitten this weekend. I'm really messed up about it. They've had problems with aggression toward cats since I used to commute to Greensboro every weekend and they had to board at their vet. Apparently there was a vet cat there that tormented them in their cages. My vet mentioned it to me once and told me that she did not suggest my ever getting a cat because of it. Since then, the only cats they ever see are the feral ones in our neighborhood who are foolish enough to come into the yard. In November we had an incident with a kitten and since then we haven't seen any cats in the yard. I've looked into ways of keeping the strays out, but I haven't found any that aren't inhumane or wouldn't affect my dogs as well. The humane society here makes it incredibly difficult to trap the cats and since it was working out, I didn't think about it any more. But yesterday they got a very tiny one. I got there in time and there were no bite marks on it; I think it died of fear. I'm very sad.

Several years ago, Gonzo was attacked by a pit bull. I was so angry at the dog and the owner and what I perceived to be just senseless aggression. But I guess this is the same. I know that dogs, domesticated or not, are animals and that we choose to keep them despite their instincts. I know I am probably guilty of anthropomorphising the dogs in the extreme, but I just can't understand why they would do this. I mean, its not as if they are competing for a food source, or like cats ARE a food source to them. There's no perceived danger, so why attack (or terrify)?

Some time early this year, there was an interview with Tommy Lee Jones in the New Yorker in which he said something like, "I respect animals. I don't dress them in tutus and kiss them on the mouth." Um, I totally dress my pets in tutus and kiss them on the mouth. So I guess that's why it's hard for me to understand why they are not and can never be my small and furry children, and are instead animals, sometimes ruthless ones.

I Got The Job!!!!

Hooray! I am now a front desk person for a periodontist's office!!

I am very excited. All I really wanted was to find a job I could do competantly without stressing out, that would actually pay money, and where I could qualify for benefits. Now I have that. I was so afraid that I would drive myself into total financial destitution before I found anything.

What's even nicer is that I actually like the doctor and the other front desk girls.

Thank you to everyone who emailed support or gave me lovely references. I feel like I have at least the potential to be a grown up now.

This Could Only Happen to Me

Dude.

Oh, dude.

So, I have a working interview tomorrow in a periodontist's office. I really like this place. I'm excited about it.

Tonight Thomas made a good dinner of sausage and peppers, and after dinner I had a spice stuck between my teeth. So I flossed, right? Like you do.

The spice has become stuck up UNDER MY GUM. It is my FRONT tooth. I can see it under there but I can't get it out. The floss just drives it farther out of my reach.

I am going to work in a gum doctor's office with a spice stuck up under my gum.

Interview-O-Rama

Well, I interviewed twice today. Both went well. I'm going back for round 2 on one of them tomorrow, so that's hopeful. The other guy's secretary isn't leaving until she sells her house, but it seemed like he would call me, whenever that might be. Not that I'm holding my breath, but it's nice to feel some hope.

Currently stuck in my head: Slip Sliding Away by Paul Simon

Several weeks ago I had to do my EOC refresher course for the state, so that I can be allowed to give End Of Course exams during the summer. The woman who administered them had the strangest verbal tic I've ever heard. At the end of each sentence she'd say, "It is." Sometimes more than once!

Megs: So, on page three, I have to enter "4" for private school?

Lurleen: Yes, that's where you want to indicate that this is a private school. It is.

Megs: Okay.

Lurleen: We have to make that designation for the state, you know, for the recording of the scores. It is, it is.

Megs: No problem. Is there anything else new that I need to know about?

Lurleen: This will be the last year for testing in blank and blank. It is.

Megs: Really!

Lurleen: Yup, it is. It is. We're going to wrap those two up and start requiring higher scores in blank. It is.

I'm not sure I'm properly conveying the weirdness of this. I mean, sometimes when she said it, it made sense in context, but somehow the number of times she repeated it made it stop making sense. Like when you say your name too many times and it stops sounding like a word.

I knew it wasn't just me when I glanced over and saw my friend and fellow teacher, Kimberley, doodling "it is" in her notebook. If I'd had a notebook, I would have kept a tally. But I'm not all responsible like that. It is.

100 Greatest Villains of all Time

So Wizard Magazine printed their 100 greatest villains of all time, sparking much controversy/discussion/delight in my household.

Some highlights:

98. The Others (from Lost)
95. Stewie Griffin (Family Guy)
89. Bill Lumbert (Office Space)
79. Cancer Man (X Files)
76. The Socs (The Outsiders)
71. Walter Peck (Ghostbusters)
66. Sideshow Bob (The Simpsons)
62. Gollum (LOTR)
61. Johnny Lawrence (Karate Kid)
59. Bob (Twin Peaks)
57. Principal Rooney (Ferris Bueller's Day Off)
56. John Doe (Seven)
49. Amanda Woodward (Melrose Pace)
42. Keyser Soze (Usual Suspects)
39. Michael Corleone (Godfather II)
33. Tony Soprano (The Sopranos)
28. Jabba The Hutt (Return of the Jedi)
24. Agent Smith (The Matrix)
15. Pennywise (It)
11. Darth Vader (Star Wars)

I'll give you the top ten intact:

10. The Shark (Jaws)
9. Pinhead (Hellraiser)
8. Lex Luthor (Superman)
7. The Borg (Star Trek: Next Generation)
6. Hannibal Lecter (Silence of the Lambs)
5. Zombies (Dawn of the Dead)
4. Dr. Doom (Marvel supervillain)
3. Palpatine (Star Wars)
2. Pazuzu (The Exorcist)
1. The Joker (Batman)

Comments:
I mostly included anomalies or things I thought were funny in my highlights...the list itself was populated with movie/book/tv/comic villains and monsters like Godzilla, Freddie Krueger, Jason Voorhies, Catwoman, Dracula, etc, of course. But I'm sorry, in what world is Principal Rooney scarier or more villainous than Bob from Twin Peaks? And I continue to maintain that Tony Soprano is NOT A VILLAIN. How did Palpatine rank number 3 over Darth Vader's number 11? My husband and his friends from the store decided that this was because the new movies made Annakin so whiney that he is no longer feared or revered...How is Zool from Ghostbusters (best evil spirit name EVER) not on this list? And if we're going to include the mean kid from the Karate Kid, where's Ace Merrill from Stand by Me?

Unemployment Freak-Out Spaz-Attack

Oh, dude, I am in bad shape.

It's weird--I've never liked working. I have a lazy soul. I'm always the person who wants the least common denominator job: low responsibility, ability to call in sick, etc. But it seems that perhaps the last three years of high responsibility, high workload, no option to call in sick has taken its toll on my personality. Don't get me wrong: if for some reason I were suddenly rich and did not have to work, I wouldn't. My ultimate #1 dream is to be a housewife. If I were home right now because that was the plan, I'd be delighted. But knowing that I should be working right now and am not is making me insane. I can't enjoy any of my favorite stay-at-home activities. All I do is freak out. And do tons of laundry in order to somehow justify my existence.

Trying to stay off the internet in case future employer calls...My presence here may be spotty for a bit.

Shoe Fairy

As if in answer to the day of crappiness and my complaints about my broken flip flop, the shoe fairy visited my house last evening. She left a new black pair of slides in my size on the front porch, then dissappeared into the night. Thank you, shoe fairy!

The Case for Kissing My Ass

Ok, so dude, this day has not gotten any better. On my four mile walk, it poured. My kind husband took my car to come and try to retrieve me from the rain, but I got home first and thought my car was stolen because his wasn't there either (so I thought he wasn't home yet). Why wasn't it there? Because it was dead in the parking lot of Harris Teeter.

But I remembered something I wanted to blog about: what my teaching assistant gave me on the last day of school.

The class was just beginning and my assistant said she had a present for me
from the class. I opened the package to discover The Case For Christ: A Journalistic Personal Investigation of the Evidence for Jesus. So clearly NOT, in fact, from the class, but from my evangelistic assistant. I am so incredibly offended by this.
First of all, Quakers ARE Christians. I don't know how many times I'm going to have to say this to all the people who want to convert me to Christianity. I am a Christian!
Secondly, even if I were a devil worshipper, it is inappropriate to randomly try to convert all of those around you to your way of thinking. Imagine if I were a devil worshipper and presented my assistant with The Case for Satan as a parting gift. No one would think that was appropriate.
Thirdly, this is a SCHOOL! A non-denominational school. Today as I was cleaning up my room I found that she had distributed Jesus themed coloring sheets to my class on the last day of school. (It is her job to aquire and distribute coloring sheets while I read to the class). If a parent were to call and complain about that, I would be in big ass trouble.

I cannot understand the need in any person, Christian or otherwise, to try to convert others to his or her religion. My religion is personal, as I assume yours is. I would no more give out a book called The Inner Light to all those I worked with than I would pee on my desk.

Things that Suck

I seem to be suffering from some sort of ennui and cannot blog. Nothing of any interest seems to be happening to me and I feel kind of blah and un-funny. Some of you may think I'm blah and un-funny anyway.

My boring list of complaints includes unemployment and other financial woes, that I broke my favorite pair of flip flops, a strange and somehow disapproving conversation with my father, a car on its last legs, that my dog ate chocolate this weekend, the lost free email account (why does EVERYTHING this week have to cost money or involve money that I do not have now and fear that I will never have?)

Anyway, I just feel sad and cannot think of anything good to write about and yet I feel sad because I cannot write on the blog.

I'm going to go hide under my bed for a while. But then I have to walk 4 miles around Greenfield Lake. Another thing that sucks.

Happy Last Day of Teaching!

So 3240 (paid) hours down, 3.5 hours to go. Half day today.

Today I have to retire one of my most beloved names, Miss Meg.

I feel sad and scared...and yet, after this week with the kids so jacked up and crazy, relieved. Some of these kids I've been teaching for 3 years. Seriously, I think that's too much for any teacher. We've just got to be able to hand them over at some point. I'm ready to see them go on to drive someone else to distraction.

And yet, who am I kidding. I'll always miss them. Hell, I dream about them when we're on break. How can it be that I won't be yelling, "Tone it DOWN, elementary school!" on Monday?

Invalid Account

What a rude shock to come home yesterday and find that the free AOL I have enjoyed for 6 years was gone.

I was never really supposed to have it in the first place. My ex-husband worked for Time Warner Cable, and when AOL and Time Warner merged, he got a free email account. When we split up, he obviously kept the road runner and turned over the AOL to me. Shortly thereafter, he quit Time Warner Cable, but the email account never went away. I've been happily using it ever since. 6 years later, I'd kind of forgotten that I wasn't supposed to have it. I figured that system was never going to get audited if it hadn't already. But lo and behold, yesterday I tried to sign in and got INVALID ACCOUNT. hrm.

Now I'm considering DSL, as its cost per month is about the same as actually having to pay for AOL. Plus, then, I could join the rest of the world and blog at some sort of regular speed. Which would be good.

Still, though. I always did like free.

ps. To those to whom I recently gave my email address: yeah, that's wrong now. Put my middle initial in it (W, like our beloved president) and you'll have it.