By Thursday, you’ll definitely have a cheerful piece of mail. And no, I didn’t save the address again ;-).
Back from delivering dinner to my friend whose baby had surgery last week. Alarming Election Chili, corn chips, cheese, a bag of apples, two cartons of chocolate ice cream, and a bottle of Australian red wine.
And I reassured her that she isn’t the only one whose teenagers go completely catatonic as soon as you take your eye off them, and then claim it’s your fault they didn’t get any math done for two weeks, because didn’t you ask them to take the dog for a walk, back on Tuesday morning? How are they supposed to concentrate?
I explained our system for moving on to real life: figure out what the goal is (such as Bill’s starting community college); achieve the required objective qualification (such-and-such PSAT or placement test score); and then create the rest of their “credentials” ex-post-facto. “Oh, that could work!” she says. And it does, because it’s what they can demonstrably do going forward - like complete Gunner’s Mate school - that matters, not whether they remember anything about Spanish verb conjugations.
As soon as I get my rear in gear (a little tired this morning) I will send out the address changes. Next week, I will notify the post orifice. I’ve had the box six years, and I hate to give it up, but I’m not getting any richer...thanks to Nobama. And some things I just can’t afford to keep.
Currently, I’m working on a beret for a little tiny neighbor who visits me once a month. She’s 90 and calls me her “sister” and says she thanks God for keeping her alive long enough to meet me. I mean, how can you argue with that kind of logic. She brings tears to my eyes....