Monday my new school term began and I hit the ground running. I felt like some character in a Lifetime pilot, one about a remarried mother of grown children trying to get a degree, keep her shrink appointments, resolve a painful legal matter and plan something for dinner while making sure everyone in her orbit is happy even though it really isn’t her responsibility but she won’t find that out for several episodes.
Sometimes you take a look at your life and it seems like this is what people want to see on TV because this is their life, too. Most of us aren’t getting Nip/Tucked, we don’t stumble with horror upon a dead body while we’re walking the dog, our husbands aren’t caught making out with our sister in the kitchen at Thanksgiving, etc. Rather, the lawyer calls just as you’re told to put your phones on silent and then you look around to see that you’re sitting in an Intro to Computers LECTURE because the school doesn’t have enough computers for you to actually be instructed on. Right away you think, “Oh, I don’t think so. No way am I spending a semester having someone TELL me how to export data with no data exporter anywhere in the room.” And the first thing the instructor says while looking right at YOU is, “Testing out of this class is not permitted.” All right, I know when I’m beat. Bring on your explanation of how to set up an Excel spreadsheet. In theory.
This semester we’re much more on our own as far as individual progress goes so the jury’s still out and I know better than to report a story without all the pertinent facts. My grandmother was my role model for presenting information selectively as in the time she called to say she had just seen the cardiologist because she was having heart palpitations. She was 91 at the time so it wasn’t the most unusual complaint. As it turns out, though, during the examination the doctor asked if there was a specific time she noticed these palpitations and she said yes, they seemed to happen only when she was on her way to the supermarket on her tricycle trying to cross Okeechobee Blvd. That’s six lanes of traffic. I mean, Jesus, Grandma.
I was on my way home from seeing the Wise Man this week and the parkway was jammed and everyone was shifting lanes going way too fast and before I knew it a guy on a motorcycle wearing a Hell’s Angels jacket zoomed by my window with just inches to spare and gave me the finger. If my window was open he could have poked me in the eye. It struck me so odd. Like what could I have possibly done to piss him off that badly? An innocent woman returning from therapy. Talking on the phone to her lawyer.
Daughter’s Featured Fotos today depict street art that either ask or answer the question WHAT?
we will be forever fitschen
these teeth go out to the man i stole them from. he shouldn’t have turned around on B. . .
haile selassie
time is a bastard