Em and the Possibilities There are no guarantees in life…only the possibilities

I’m enjoying the lovely weather we’re having (rain! yay!), so you get the best blurbs I can come up with for the moment:

I checked The Out of Sync Child out for Mom to read, thinking it would help her interact with Daniel. She looked at the outside cover, said “None of that describes him” and handed the book back to me. On a related note, Mom thinks Daniel should be in A Special School.

The ??!!?? line forms to the left…

The First Real Paycheck has been deposited. The Teen ™ has filed a request for a jeans shopping trip, and an LG Chocolate Mint.

I’m tempted to make a Junior Mints Art Project.

School is going well for me, although my knees are protesting the up/down nature of my schedule. The first parent/teacher conferences are coming up for Alannah, so I’ll get some better feedback than “My day was FINE MOM”.

This just in: there’s a tornado warning for my area. There was an email saying “stay indoors!!!” from the school, which I find strangely horrifying. There’s no other way to get the word out??!!?? What if a student is in class and doesn’t get the warning?

Also, (much to my annoyance) that last textbook STILL isn’t here. Ordered on half.com on 8/31; supposed to ship on 9/6; no contact from the seller. Did I mention how glad I am that the library had the book?

You have a client who you know does not speak English very well, and does not read English at all, as she is a Mexican immigrant.

Your client comes into your office wearing a “Remember the Alamo” tshirt with a map of Texas on it.

Do you say something to your client – such as asking if they’re aware of what the shirt says? Or do you just let it go?

Are you tired of dealing with a frisky 14-year-old girl? Sick of that sass sass sass all.damn.day.long? Tired of worrying that Some Boy is going to bring her to ruin? Well have I got news for you! Marry Our Daughter is

an introduction service assisting those following the Biblical tradition of arranging marriages for their Daughters.

We charge a variable fee per listing, depending on the bride price requested and other factors. Potential grooms are not charged. We do not assist in negotiations, we only provide introductions.

Yes, that’s right, folks. Sell Marry your daughter to the pedophile down the road highest bidder man creep guy who agrees to your “bride price” on this website and you too can get out of the trailer park. REALLY!

“At first we were worried that Janine was too young to get married, but then her new husband bought her a house and a car and jewelry and the money we got let us buy a house for ourselves. Getting out of the trailer park at our age was the best thing that ever happened to us, and it’s all thanks to Marry Our Daughter!”

—Mr. Jack M.

Just remember – it’s mentioned in the Bible, therefore it MUST be right.

Mom came out of her room with A Purpose. Stepping into my line of sight, just enough that I’d have to painfully, achingly, slowly turn my spastic back to see her properly, she spoke.

Today is a Very Important Day. I want to ask you a question, and I’m going to write your answer down in my Bible. Do you know today that if you died today that you’d go to Heaven?

Mom does this every now and then. Something happens that rattles her world to the core, and suddenly my salvation becomes something SHE has to guarantee. The concept of a “personal” relationship with the Almighty is brusquely shoved aside in her determination to bully compel me to snap-to.

I answer “Yes, I’m quite sure I’m going to heaven” and her jaw drops. She argues with me; she all but calls me a liar to my face. Because I haven’t darkened the door of a church in aeons, it’s a foregone conclusion (to her) that I’m on an oil-covered Slip-n-Slide straight to Hell. She cites the growth of her church as proof that it’s The Right Thing to Do. I point out that while her church is growing, it seems to be due to the closing of smaller churches of her denomination – when you look out into the audience, it’s mostly people her age and older. There are no people my age; they are either young and still in the grips of Parental Control, or they are much older and essentially brainwashed. She says “ANY church. Just GO.”

You will be pleased to know that I refrained from offering to attend services with one of the “unacceptable to Fundies” religions.

She asks why I don’t read my Bible. I ask why she reads hers so much – at what point does it go from “study” to “idolatry”? Her jaw drops again – you’re “supposed” to read the Bible. I ask at what point Jesus of Nazareth spoke perfect Shakespearean English…

As is our custom, she walked off, muttering under her breath. It hasn’t been brought up again.

1. Dork :: you
2. Refurbished :: and now twice the price
3. Basket :: case
4. Mousse :: It was more than mousse. She had bullwinkle on her head!
5. Studio :: record
6. 8 ball :: behind the
7. Masking tape :: broken antiques
8. Love :: never dies
9. Wilder :: Gene
10. Lindsey :: Wagner

Next?

I ordered three textbooks through half.com. One in IL, one in CA, and one in VA.

The one from IL arrived today before 11am via UPS.

The one from CA arrived today via Express Mail.

The one from VA? Still isn’t here yet. The good news is that it was available at the public library so I nabbed it while I could.

Being back in the retail sector again means that when everyone ELSE has a day off, I’m bustin’ my behind. The heady odors of lighter fluid, charred eyebrows, beer sweat, and tobacco smoke made it quite the interesting holiday. It was not a good weekend to be sensitive to scents, and I’d forgotten how much I hate the smell of beer sweat. By Monday, every muscle in my body was screaming in protest as I moved yet another heavy-as-hell case of product.

Tuesday brought a bit of a reprieve since it’s a school day. Once again I had issues with the financial aid office (for those keeping track, that makes the record 1/3) so once again I got to pay for my books out of pocket and am still waiting for them to arrive. Fortunately, I found one of my textbooks at the public library and the others are now in transit.

And as much as I’d love to continue this, my time is short. I have to be on campus early today.

Did you think this was going to be a fatblog? HAH!

So there I was, sputtering my way to the gas station with only a mile to go when the van died.

Keep the lectures to yourself, please. This isn’t the first time I’ve run out of gas and I feel like a complete idiot when it happens.

After sitting in the van watching cars fly by with nary a thought of stopping, The Teens ™ and I got out and started walking. A mile seems a lot longer when you’re walking it, especially when watching the Good Christians haul @$$ to their local place of worship.

(Yes, I’m a bit bitter about it. Three females walking down the road, and nobody did so much as slow down.)

$5.99 for a gas can + $2000 for a gallon of gas, and back to the car the three of us walked.

As I was getting the last of the gas into the van, not one but TWO people actually stopped. Both were people I knew, but had no phone numbers for – the neighbors you wave at but for whatever reason don’t hang with.

Okay, NOW you can laugh at me.