Wednesday, July 25, 2001

Yesterday, I:

  • Dealt with school registration
  • Sewed patches on my son's rabbit preparatory to sewing a new face
  • Went out for lunch with husband

Then all Hell broke loose.

  • Status meeting (phone) on The Trainwreck Project which included the immortal exchange "What about Class Foo?"
    "Well, we think it's done, but it's not passing unit tests." We are officially on target for code complete next Monday. I don't think so...
  • Phone call from headhunter during status meeting; put him off because I already had one phone meeting.
  • Letter from job-I-don't-want asking for a third interview
  • Post-status phone meeting with my management in which she attempted to cheer me up about putting out a 30-page User's Guide bearing my name and full of vague generalities. Didn't work. Went on to discuss my continuing with the next release of this product because nobody else can do it. Which I genuinely believe. Arrrgh.
  • Phone call from friend at Company I Really Like; after social chat, verified that there is a major, major hiring freeze and nobody knows if the executive who gave permission to hire actually had authority to do so. No further information available.
  • The real bombshell. The news that Salon Table Talk, my major source of human contact these last 5 years, is going pay-only, which is almost certainly equivalent to TT's going belly-up within the year.
  • Picking up kids and taking to bookstore, where we couldn't find the summer-reading book that was our goal.
  • Getting home to headhunter message asking why I wasn't answering my phone and if he could help me with my 'misgivings' about the job I didn't want.
  • Went upstairs and left message on headhunter's answering machine saying I didn't have misgivings. What I had was an unwillingness to talk further with that employer. Did this confident that it would make headhunter mad at me. I hate having people mad at me.

Can I have a refund on yesterday?

In about 15 minutes I'm taking my daughter to the orthodontist to find out if this is the year she starts with the braces. And another day is off to a rousing start...

Tuesday, July 24, 2001

I now have a folder containing every single solitary piece of paper establishing my children's legal existence. I also have two children who are registered for school, as well as instructions on whom to call in August to nag about getting my daughter into the Advanced Mathematics program. (They accept standardized test scores for English, but not Mathematics. Why, I know not.)


This morning, I dragged out pearl earrings, the signet ring, and a flowered dress (NOT with a lace collar. There are limits!), and wandered downstairs.

Self, anxious: "Do I look like a typical suburban matron?"
Husband: "You look beautiful." (Further extending his commanding lead in the Best Husband Ever competition.)
Self: "Yes, but do I look like a respectable middle-class mama who is not to be messed with?"
Daughter: "You look like you. Isn't that the point?"

She's a lot wiser than I am. Then again, that's the point of the exercise.

Monday, July 23, 2001

Whine. We're switching our kids from private school to public school this year. Last week, in an uncharacteristic burst of organization, I called the schools to find out what I needed to have to register. I was told, a birth certificate, vaccination records, proof of residence, and records from the previous school.

After quite lot of searching (housekeeping R not me), I located one child's birth certificate, both children's test scores and end-of-school reports, and got vaccination records from my doctor. My husband and I then made the half-hour drive to elder child's school, with much consultation of maps.

To find that neither a driver's license nor a voter-registration card constituted "proof of residence." No. Precisely two things are acceptable as proof of residence: a copy of your mortgage or a recent power bill. Which, oddly enough, I don't carry in my wallet. I pointed out that nobody had bothered to tell me this last week. The receptionist explained that last week, the summer school staff were running the phone; if she had been answering the phone, she would have been sure to warn us to bring a power bill. And the registration absolutely, positively could not begin without proof of residence. She couldn't even accept the papers I'd brought with me.

So we got into the car and drove home. We didn't bother going to the younger child's school, lacking as we did the One True Paper.

Tomorrow for sure.

Latest New South bumpersticker:

KJV 1611 AV
Instruction Manual for the Rapture
Prepare for Takeoff

So not only is the Bible inerrant, but one specific edition of the King James Version is inerrant. Isn't that special?
My favorite local bumpersticker, by the way, is:

After the Rapture, can I have your stuff?

And don't get me started on all the variations on the Jesus fish. My favorite so far is a Truth fish eating a Darwin fish. Still trying to puzzle out the theological implications of that one. Especially since I don't find Darwin incompatible with Christianity.

Latest street-side church banner:

Stardates July 21-23
Vacation Bible School: The Next Generation

Latest church notice board:

Jesus burst from the grave and exploded in our hearts.

Sounds messy and dangerous.

Watched "The Sum Of Its Parts" (Andromeda episode) Saturday night. Turned it off 45 minutes in. Will still probably watch the James Marsters guest episode, because I am a pathetic fangirl.

Sunday, July 22, 2001

Patience is not my most prominent virtue.

I don't like waiting in airports, even though I always travel with an Atlas-worthy load of books, magazines, embroidery, laptop, and DVDs. I get cranky when the check takes too long to arrive at a restaurant.

Oh, and I just tossed my son out of the computer room because I wanted to write right now.

One of the humiliating things about parenthood is seeing your own vices reflected in your children. (The virtues show up, too, but that's for a different essay.) My son is constantly asking "How much longer will it be until ... the food comes, we get to the beach, the movie starts?" Perfectly natural questions, to which I solemnly reply, "Waiting is part of life, you just have to get used to it. You might as well learn to wait politely." Hypocrisy much?

I have a solid "we-really-want-to-hire-you" pledge from a new employer with whom I am in love. I got it July 3. Since then, nothing has happened. It takes forever for hiring paperwork to wend its way through a major corporation. Especially with a hiring freeze and an economic downturn.

Did I mention that I hate waiting?