Last Edit July 2, 1999
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From 6/7/99 My pilot synthesis 5-day workshop (EDA) started today and the lottery hit $65Million and is still climbing. Greed. Avarice. I have a 100-sided die. We hit Red Lobster and roll that sucker while waiting for the crab platters to arrive. Discard high numbers over 52 and keep going. Everybody gets a roll. Actually, six. We generate 12 tickets this way, taking turns around the table. Add some quick picks and we have $20 in tickets. Nice to daydream. Costs that much for two hours at the movies. Why not lotto dreams? Why not indeed. (No, we didn't even win $3.00!) This keeps us occupied. Less sugar packets flying around the room. After 12 hours at work, my eyes are crossed. They are five this week and me. I feel like something the cat dragged it. So tired my bones melted. 12-hour day. No question about earning my money. I'll know if he graduates in 10 days. (He didn't.) Hope I make it, never mind the kid! Got to buy the boy a suit. Rituals will be upheld. Arranging for his brother and significant other to arrive, just in case. Or maybe, whatever. Need to cut his hair. Need to get him new shoes. Cross my fingers. Matches my crossed eyes. Better give up on coffee. Any more and I'll puke. To enliven the evening, we scan for a party. Then we all jump up and act as a backup chorus to the birthday song. But on sitting down, my son chucks crab shell into my coffee. They can get pretty wild when they are opening crab in a hurry. Ooops. Guess he took me seriously. No more coffee tonight. However, in spite of flying shells, they are not overly fast crab-eaters today. We discuss men jokes. Someone at work sent me a group of them. Riske. Funny as heck. And my pilot class - I need a whip and a chair. But it's working. It's on schedule. I also need an Elvira costume or something wicked for the Ann Rice Vampire ball. Push up bra! Ha! Ha! And sky-high heels. Who am I vamping? The RT cover models wannabes, that's who. It the ball right before the cover model contest at the RT convention in Toronto. Romance writers are bad folks! We need to evaluate our potential covers. So they will be bare-chested, in tight black pants, boots and masks. Dungeon keepers. I think I'll be the dungeon master. We discuss just where I can acquire such a costume. It is resolved that my older son, who is into leather, will take me shopping at his favorite leather shop...... This should be interesting. AT least the crew at Cisco think so. Whips and chains? High leather boots? What else? Other diners are jealous of us. We have Kelly back as our server and she brings huge platters - heaped. Three for five eaters. Because we eat fast, don't fuss, and don't order more than we eat. Sulky people! They wanted big platters too but were told they can not take it home. They cannot share. Normal rules. They had slow service and were trying to make up. It was two black women who were making sounds like they were being discriminated against. Not likely. A table (a black family) had come in behind us and were served ahead of us. We weren't fussing! We don't complain unless we wait more than an hour. Then we complain. Not nice to play the race card when it isn't true. Like crying wolf. Takes the attention of the real cases. Same as the false rape charges. Or claiming harassment when there isn't any. Uncomfortable is one thing. But 20 minutes of a manager's time when you know you were braking the rules in the first place.... no-no. Oh well. Some people. We got such looks. So we were louder. My group is now on to desert. Six layer chocolate cake. Ice cream and fudge overboard. I can't even snitch. I had mahi-mahi and shrimp. At the class I had two mini Hershey's bars and one mini mint Patti. Can't cheat tonight. Must not eat anymore..... But I was sooo cold and sooo tired (45 degrees on the fifth of June). I lose body temperature when my bood sugar gets low. It is a sign I am pushing it. My son took procession of both spoons, one put there for me by Kelly who knew, she just knew. But he horded the sppons so I stuck my finger in the fudge sauce. Yuck! he says. Mommy germs! He He. My notebook is now smeared in chocolate - seems Dan felt I needed a forced feeding - he tempted me - I had a bite - I had to. It kept jumping onto my notebook. Had to write through the chocolate syrup. Cindy got her camera out - caught. Caught sticking my finger into my son's chocolate. Caught sucking my finger. Caught - deer in the headlights. My son demands $500 for the bite. I said I would only pay that if I took a bite of his Togo's sandwich. This led to a discussion of the various things I could bite. This in turn led to the various lenses I could buy him so he could take pictures in Toronto. Dan told him to just shut up and go. (My son likes to be bribed to do these things. Silly child.) Dan wants to go too! Target-rich environment. 1000 women. 20 men. Doesn't bear thinking of.... They have to be nice to us.... They want our vote.... Cover model contract up for grabs.... I repeat my offer of a personal trainer - for both me and my son. I want the weight machine in the house. Too much dust in the garage. Meanwhile, I am so exhausted I can barely see. We stagger home and I am down and out in minutes. My son and I both slept - TVs running and our bedroom lights on. This is called pushing it. As I said, 10 days to go. |