Don't Make Eye Contact

I've learned why I didn't volunteer before.

It takes commitment AND it sucks into your screwing off time.

And right now, it's not screwing off time, it's resting so I can continue to function time (long story short: I was diagnosed about a bajillion years ago as having fibromyalgia. Never was as sick as the people you read about in magazines or who appear on Oprah, but was still sick enough to want to die, and it compounded the depression. Had a mild flare up shortly after the Howler was born, survived relatively intact, and guess what flared up again 3 weeks ago? Yeah. It's so great. The all over your body hit-by-a-bus pain that settled into the entire right side of my body, and still occasionally causes me to want to scream in excrucitating pain when touched...anyway, it's mostly in my right shoulder, elbow, wrist, and hand, and whatever you may think about it, it's skeletal AND muscular pain, and it hurts like hell. And pain makes you tired. VERY tired. But the hormonal insomnia doesn't let you fall asleep easily. Oh, it's so great. I get to be f-ing assed miserable and in pain, all while NOT lashing out like an injured animal caught in a trap. Joyous.)

Anyway, I made eye contact and got nailed for what has turned out to be a two week long affair with frustration and traffic. I was asked to contact local businesses for donations of bottled water for the school picnic.

I have spent a good deal of time in traffic because there's a truckload of road contruction going on in town, and there's a trainload of idiots out there on those roads.

Frustration comes in with one store in particular. You'd think that the busiest grocery store in town would have a more organized and better run customer service desk.

They "lost" the first letter I gave them. I gave them a second one. I got a call shortly after dropping off the second letter saying that they would have a $20 gift card for us. I made it back there today (again with the traffic.) After waiting for another 25 minutes (I waited about 20 to give them the second letter, and had waited at least 10 for the first) they had no idea what I was talking about. They asked if I remember who I gave the letter to on Wednesday (the second letter) and I pointed out the blonde who had walked past me at least 10 time as I stood there today. When asked, she said she had no idea what they were talking about.

I had to go out to my car and get a THIRD letter, and when I gave it to them, she said, "Oh, I remember seeing that. Now what did we say then?" No apology for losing the first two letters; no apology for making me get a third, or for not even trying to figure out what "they" were talking about when she was asked about it five minutes ago.

You know, where I work can be pretty screwed up. And sometimes, we do lose things, or make mistakes. BUT we apologize, acknowledge that WE screwed up, and at least try to be polite. We at least make an effort to LOOK for what's being asked for, and do everything we can to NOT screw it up again.

To her credit, I have noticed that everytime I'm in that store, she is just exactly like this--not very nice or friendly, and she certainly comes across as lazy and incompetent.

I absolutely dread going back in there to get the water. (Because I had to stand there while they got all the employees paychecks and acted like I was a big nuisance and made me waste time going to get a letter they've already had two copies of and wait while they processed the thing, I couldn't get the water then because I had to pick up the Howler from school.)

Hmmmm

Yesterday, the Howler & I stayed at the playground for about 30 minutes after school. While there, I saw something I didn't think adults did anymore:

One mom walked over to another mom, cupped her hand, leaned in super duper close, and was whispering in her ear.

Isn't that the sort of thing that, as a grown-up at the playground, you stop doing? I mean, isn't there an age limit on that sort of thing?

Or is it just me?

No, Really

Last Friday night was the Variety/Talent Show at school. The Howler did "Little Bunny Foo Foo," since most of the songs she knows the words to are, at this point, Pink Floyd. She knows some of the words to two Hannah Montana songs, but trust me when I say that those were OVER done.

Anyway, while there, I was "lucky" enough to spend some time in the gym, back stage, to help keep track of and corral the exuberant performers. And, to keep the girls from going to the bathroom every 5 minutes.

Whilst in Hell, I noticed that the 4th and 5th graders had cellphones. And they were texting. And scanning. And whatever.

Now, I ask you--under what circumstances does a 10 or 11 or 12 year old need a cellphone? And do you really think that those circumstances include being at the school for a school sponsored event when the parents are sitting in the cafeteria/auditorium for two hours? Does a 12 year old really truly NEED to be in contact with her friends at any given moment?

I just do not get it. I'm 41 years old, and in all honesty, I need a cellphone about 20 minutes, liberally spread out over a three month period. And I have texted about three times since January 1st.

Maybe I'm just old fashioned. Or old. But either way, I can't imagine the Howler NEEDING (food, oxygen, clothing are needs, btw) a cellphone of her very own in just another three years.

Mish Mash

So, this is what's been happening since I decided to lay down and die:

Ten days ago, I was fine.

Eight days ago, I was busy, but having fun. It was the PTA sponsored Spring Fling, and idea that, last September, seemed so far away as to be "doable." Especially considering that I was supposed to be 2nd chair, and someone else would be calling the shots. Hell, I just wanted to plant marigold seeds. Come January, the first chairperson knew she would be too busy to do it right, and admitted so. Everyone seemed to be so excited by the prospect of Spring Fling, I couldn't just say, "NO" either. I let myself be suckered. Anyway, thank the God of small miracles that another parent said he'd help. And by gum, he did help. He planned and dealt with fully 1/3 of what needed done (the first part was the marigolds, and the 2nd part was a make-yer-hat-at-home and we'll-have-a parade-at-school and with the principal's planning for the parade part, it took care of itself.) It was a blast and the kids loved it! Even getting briefly rained on.

Seven days ago, I felt like I'd been hit by a bus. Pain, exhaustion, and more pain.

Six days ago, I slept for most of Mother's day. And still felt like I'd been hit by a bus.

Five days ago, I was still tired, but not so much in pain.

Four days ago, I was still tired, but almost no pain.

Three days ago, I was so tired, I wanted to cry.

Two days ago, I was still gagging whenever I thought about the Howler's tongue. I should get pictures. Yeah, that would be "fun."

Yesterday, I was still tired and grossed out, but functional.

Today, I am tired, my feet hurt, but overall, I feel better than I've felt in a week. And I have pictures of the Howler's tongue to take.

Predictions

I predict that the AWOL PTA Prez will show up for the May meeting. She'll be there to preside over us all, making sure that we understand we've broken her rules of behavior (we're supposed to be seen and not heard, do as we are told, take the blame and never the credit) and we'll all certainly all feel badly when she's done.

~snark~

Confessions of the PTA Trauma Queen

It's lovely.

I'm 41 years old, and, apparently, by joining the PTA, I've been transported back to junior high--only with uglier, fatter, and dumber women. Okay, it's just like two or three (that I know of so far) but seriously. One or two psychotic breaks (or some really trippy bad LSD) and they've ruined it for everybody.

The emailing has begun. Without naming names, the AWOL prez (who was pretty useless to begin with) is sending out what I assume she thinks is "scathing" emails accusing people of being "VERY nasty" to her little nutbar friend. And, I'm on her propaganda email list.

It's pathetic, and it's upsetting to the people it's aimed at--you know, the ones who have been doing the work, and who actually put their money where their mouths are. The ones who aren't just saying, they're doing, showing, and being.

I so desperately want to reply, and just lambaste the hell out of them.

But, I've decided to take the higher road, mostly because these fuckwits aren't worth the energy I'd burn and the ever-increasing frustration I'll end up feeling. So I post it here instead.

What is most disturbing, though, is the fact that no one has yet explained the "I'm excusing myself from anymore invalid information" bit. I'm getting ready to start shipping it out to foreign language translators to see if there's some sort of Californianese language barrier keeping me from truly understanding.

Another Timeless Question

Customer: Do you have a paper towel or anything?

Me: No, sir, I'm sorry, I don't.

Customer: Boy, it's cold out here. My nose is running.

Me:

Customer: Can I wipe my nose on your sleeve?