Another One Bites the Dust

And another one's gone...Magic Cookie took me off her blog list. Sniff. Well, I was honored to be on there at any point, so thanks CM for helping me get started and putting me on there for a while. I can't really complain about getting the boot. I've essentially been offline for months, and I've abandoned the lawyer-esque musings that I once posted here. Not that I don't think about it still, but the reality is so distant from the wanting that it's self-defeating for me to continue to ruminate in that manner. This space has morphed into a mommy-blog by this point, because parenting issues are still very meaningful to my day-to-day reality and because they're pretty safe to blog about publicly. I don't want to write a mommy-blog, really, but I also don't want to overshare (gasp! gawd forbid!) all my angst and marital stuff and job stuff, etc.

OK, I really DO want to overshare, but I'm getting smarter about suppressing that desire.

Anyhoo... (and yes, I like spelling it that way...anywho? why would you use "anywho"?...seriously, the point of "anyhoo" is that you are making up a silly phonetic representation of anyway/anyhow/nevertheless/moving on/so-as-I-was-about-to-say, etc. It is NOT anywho.)

This underscores a truth about blogging: you get out of it what you put into it. I like that about blogging. It's a meritocracy.

But I am sad to be dumped by CM. She started this blog, really. I am indebted to her. Her kindness and openness and willingness to mentor and answer questions made a big impression on me. I wouldn't be here without her. She's amazing. As you will discover if you read her.

Home Alone and Broken

This three-day-weekend, our little threesome had intentions of being out of town. Moments before we hit the highway, it became apparent that I had some work I could not put off another day. I told Leo I needed to stay home to get my work done, and now here I am. I am home alone, trying to get my work done, while Leo and Q are several hours away by car, enjoying a Daddy-Daughter weekend.

I feel like I'm doing an all-nighter to finish a paper, a common scenario for me during my academic career. If I finish soon, I can get in my car and meet up with them, as inefficent as that seems. They're at a new hotel and have already called to tell me all about it and yes, I suffered stabs of jealousy and self-pity as I listened to Q gush about their room.

My work is boring. My work pays our mortgage, our car loans, the electric bill, etc. I am both grateful and frustrated that I have this job. I am bored out of my mind. In fact, I am broken. I do not work. I do not work right, not the way I used to. But work I must. What a whiney-heiney I am!

Honk If You Can Read This

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This helped improve my attitude today:

AFI's 100 Years, 100 Movie Quotes (Musical Montage)


On the other side of things, I checked my kid's email account, something I rarely do. In fact, it's been over two months since I last checked it. It's been even longer since Q has used the account. Anyway, there was an unread message from early December that is troubling me. Her friend sent her an email asking Q if Q was mad at the friend. Then the friend said that if she didn't recieve a reply from Q by the end of the month, that she had five words for Q, and here are their initials: Y A W T J.

The friend finished off the note with "p.s. bye dead girl".

WTH?

The space above will reveal today's bad news, if you highlight it.

Have a Heart, Teach

A 9-year-old kid (not mine) raised her hand in class one morning and said, "Mrs. Smith, I need to go to the clinic. I'm sick."

Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot and watery. She couldn't breathe through her nose. Her face was flushed a dark pink. The kid looked sick.

"Suck it up," responded the teacher.

The little girl had to wait until lunch time, when the class was in the cafeteria and she had access to other school personnel, to ask to go to the clinic. The teacher on duty in the cafeteria took one look at her and immediately excused her to go to the clinic. At the clinic, they determined she was ill. Her mother was called and the girl was sent home sick for the day.

The point: What's up with this teacher? Who says "suck it up" to a kid in fourth grade, especially one who's clearly under the weather? I mean, at least say something like "Try to hang in there, okay?".

What's with the tough talk? The teacher needs to take an empathy pill and drop the militant tough-guy approach. This is fourth grade, not boot camp.

Or am I just too soft-hearted?

Solemnity

If anyone is still stopping by here, I bid you greetings!

Hi!

I've been absorped first in a school project which took a couple months (because it was interesting to me and a fun diversion and because I could) and now I'm absorped in a different sort of project, which is still kid-centered, but not as fun.

My showing up here today has to do with vocabulary.

Does this sound right to any of you?

"We all solemnly dislike her."

My immediate reaction is no, that's not right. It sounds like you regret not liking her. It sounds like the act of disliking her is a sad, mournful thing you are not exactly enthused about. In other words, it sounds like you dislike that you dislike her.

But I just looked up "solemn" and basically it means serious, mirthless. So, maybe "We solemnly dislike her" is equivalent to "We gravely dislike her" or "We take it very seriously that we dislike her."

And just so you know, the "her" is nobody I've taked about before. And the "we" is nobody you know. And my paranoia knows no bounds. Hence my solemn attempt to keep things anonymous and vague and irrelevant to anything of substance in my real life, leading to many months of silence here.

We solemnly dislike the need to watch what we say while blogging. Solemnly, dude. No kidding.

I just pulled a muscle answering the phone

Yikes! August is almost GONE and I have only posted once this month so far? Yowza.

I say August doesn't count. In the blogosphere, there are only 11 months in the year.

And yes, I really did just pull a muscle in my back by reaching over to answer the phone. How sad is that.

I've been wallowing less, focusing on work (including housework) more. Things are pretty good.

I even mowed the entire lawn last Saturday!!! Which is a First Time In My Life event. My dad only let my brothers mow the lawn when we were kids, which was the last time I ever even thought about doing such a thing. But marital maintenance includes yard maintenance, it turns out. Who knew! (I do, now. Just call me Gud "Yes, dear" Nuff.)

Anyway, I'm about to go to some social thing and I was wondering: does caffeine help you be more pumped about cocktail party chitchat? Would quickly downing a can of Coke (or Coke Zero) immediately before departing for said socializing event help minimize my butterflies, while I wait for my post-arrival glass of wine to take effect? Just wondering.

Pathetic? Why, yes! Warranted? Yes, again. I want so badly to be the one smoothly working the room. But alas. I am much more inclined to pass the time sitting in a corner quietly evaluating everyone's choice of shoes.

I'd Rather Not Comment

I just got a call on my office phone. It was someone calling to ask my opinion of one of our service providers. The first question: "On a scale of 1 to 10, how likely would you be to recommend our service to another potential customer?"

Me: Uh...[pause]...Is this anonymous?
Them: No. This is not anonymous.
Me: [silence as I think about the people whose feelings might be involved]
Them: It is registered in our database with your customer name, so no, it is not anonymous.
Me: ......................
Them: You don't have to do it.
Me: Whew! Really?!
Them: Yeah, that's fine. You don't have to.
Me: Yeah, okay, good. That sounds good. Thanks.
Them: Okay. You have a nice day.
Me: [quick interjection] For what it's worth, I think you're doing a great job! I mean, you personally. On this call. I'd give you a 10. If that helps any.
Them: Well, no, not really. But I appreciate that.