noted for the record
Mar. 9th, 2005 12:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fearlesstempI did not sign off on this snowstorm! W-T-F, people? SERIOUSLY. I was supposed to ! I was supposed to make foolish, last-minute, anxiety purchases at a box store today! I was supposed to get TRAVELER'S CHECKS (at the bank, not the aforementioned box store). Instead I was trapped inside the house, incapable of accomplishing anything, save watching Ed and annoying my friends on the phone! I capped it all off with a solid hour or so of snow-blowing and shoveling, followed by stressed-out last-minute packing, which is the best way to spend your last evening before a trip, in my humble opinion.
Anyway, I have packed, I have written explicit instructions for my parents so that I can tape General Hospital for the next two weeks (I kind of resent GH for becoming interesting and watchable to me right before I'm going on a trip), I have called trusted friend to ramble on about fear of flying and fear of what the relaxy-pills I've been given will do to me (what if I vomit? Or drunkenly approach an attractive fellow flyer? What if I vomit while drunkenly approaching an attractive fellow flyer? HORRORS). I have also found out what movies are showing on the plane (FLIGHT OF THE PHOENIX is one of them! ARE THEY MAD?), and have left ample room in my personal bag for the candy and other comfort foods I will need to get me through the flight.
I must stop talking about my flying anxiety (anxiety about flying, not anxiety that flies about under its own power - though, come to think of it, that's kind of an apt figurative description) before I freak myself out further. Subject change!
The other day my mother was telling me about one of her coworkers, who is having trouble getting a promotion, possibly because she's married to the big boss's wife's ex-husband. This prompted me to ask if there were more than thirty people in our tri-county area, or if it just seems that way.
Another example of this arose from my grandfather's visit to the dentist. The dentist in question was:
(a) the son of a couple my maternal grandparents used to socialize with;
(b) my dentist since I was a little girl;
(c) the brother of a girl I went to high school with;
(d) the father of a girl I once baby-sat at a Montessori fundraiser my aunt threw; or
(e) all of the above.
If you chose (e), you're probably one of our area's thirty residents!
Anyway, my grandfather insisted that I accompany him into the examining room with him, where I watched him have impressions done for dentures and made small talk with the dentist about items (c) and (d), mainly. During the conversation he said something about how people are always asking why he hasn't had another child (he has one daughter). He said that having one of her is like having seven, and that he couldn't handle that.
I chuckled in a polite way and my grandfather sat there silent, goo from the impressions pooling at the corners of his mouth. I did not realize at that moment how fortunate his temporary inability to speak was because, later, when I was in the nursing home van with him and the driver, and, in a vain attempt to make bland small-talk, told my grandfather that I could understand what the dentist meant when he said that - I baby-sat his daughter once, and she was a handful - he said (and I quote), in his most booming voice,
"That isn't his decision! That's God's decision! CONTRACEPTION IS WRONG!"
(I wish I was exaggerating with that emphasis there, but I swear I am not.)
I almost died of embarrassment. After coming back from the brink, I asked him to table the conversation for later and responded pleasantly to the van driver's comment on the weather thirty seconds later - the usual social niceties one must be familiar with if one wishes to spend time with the Grandpa Unit.
Now it is late! I must away to bed. I am leaving tomorrow and won't be back until the 24th, and that evening I'm going to a young alumni mixer for a bunch of area colleges. SO LAME and I can't resist. I'm making my friend Jo go and the only reason my friend Andrea is escaping is because she's leaving the state.
It's actually pretty great because since it takes place the day after I get back from Europe, I can start all of my conversations with that fact, instead of my usual opener: "Well, I'm unemployed at the moment, but I've been temping for the past few years, living with the parents. And oh! I just got a new cat! Want to see a picture?"
Those of you who have my cell number can leave messages there if you need to reach me (I will be checking the voicemail while I'm away), and my internet access will be sporadic at best. If anyone needs to get in touch with me, my AOL address still works but I do have another gmail one - fearlesstemp@gmail.com.
And that's it! I'm outta here!
Anyway, I have packed, I have written explicit instructions for my parents so that I can tape General Hospital for the next two weeks (I kind of resent GH for becoming interesting and watchable to me right before I'm going on a trip), I have called trusted friend to ramble on about fear of flying and fear of what the relaxy-pills I've been given will do to me (what if I vomit? Or drunkenly approach an attractive fellow flyer? What if I vomit while drunkenly approaching an attractive fellow flyer? HORRORS). I have also found out what movies are showing on the plane (FLIGHT OF THE PHOENIX is one of them! ARE THEY MAD?), and have left ample room in my personal bag for the candy and other comfort foods I will need to get me through the flight.
I must stop talking about my flying anxiety (anxiety about flying, not anxiety that flies about under its own power - though, come to think of it, that's kind of an apt figurative description) before I freak myself out further. Subject change!
The other day my mother was telling me about one of her coworkers, who is having trouble getting a promotion, possibly because she's married to the big boss's wife's ex-husband. This prompted me to ask if there were more than thirty people in our tri-county area, or if it just seems that way.
Another example of this arose from my grandfather's visit to the dentist. The dentist in question was:
(a) the son of a couple my maternal grandparents used to socialize with;
(b) my dentist since I was a little girl;
(c) the brother of a girl I went to high school with;
(d) the father of a girl I once baby-sat at a Montessori fundraiser my aunt threw; or
(e) all of the above.
If you chose (e), you're probably one of our area's thirty residents!
Anyway, my grandfather insisted that I accompany him into the examining room with him, where I watched him have impressions done for dentures and made small talk with the dentist about items (c) and (d), mainly. During the conversation he said something about how people are always asking why he hasn't had another child (he has one daughter). He said that having one of her is like having seven, and that he couldn't handle that.
I chuckled in a polite way and my grandfather sat there silent, goo from the impressions pooling at the corners of his mouth. I did not realize at that moment how fortunate his temporary inability to speak was because, later, when I was in the nursing home van with him and the driver, and, in a vain attempt to make bland small-talk, told my grandfather that I could understand what the dentist meant when he said that - I baby-sat his daughter once, and she was a handful - he said (and I quote), in his most booming voice,
"That isn't his decision! That's God's decision! CONTRACEPTION IS WRONG!"
(I wish I was exaggerating with that emphasis there, but I swear I am not.)
I almost died of embarrassment. After coming back from the brink, I asked him to table the conversation for later and responded pleasantly to the van driver's comment on the weather thirty seconds later - the usual social niceties one must be familiar with if one wishes to spend time with the Grandpa Unit.
Now it is late! I must away to bed. I am leaving tomorrow and won't be back until the 24th, and that evening I'm going to a young alumni mixer for a bunch of area colleges. SO LAME and I can't resist. I'm making my friend Jo go and the only reason my friend Andrea is escaping is because she's leaving the state.
It's actually pretty great because since it takes place the day after I get back from Europe, I can start all of my conversations with that fact, instead of my usual opener: "Well, I'm unemployed at the moment, but I've been temping for the past few years, living with the parents. And oh! I just got a new cat! Want to see a picture?"
Those of you who have my cell number can leave messages there if you need to reach me (I will be checking the voicemail while I'm away), and my internet access will be sporadic at best. If anyone needs to get in touch with me, my AOL address still works but I do have another gmail one - fearlesstemp@gmail.com.
And that's it! I'm outta here!
