Possumblog

Well, that wasn't quite what I expected.

Then again, it never is.

Got to the in-law's house and was met by several very loud children, some of whom were telling me about Catherine's teacher meeting (which I already knew about) and others were informing me that Reba was already on the way toward home. Which was quite unexpected, given what she had been ranting about on the phone.

Turns out the order to stay until further notice was intended in jest. Kinda. Sorta. But not really. But really. A word of advice to anyone who will supervise Miss Reba--the girl does not do well with trying to read minds. Be explicit, and cut the crap. If you want her to stay and work, she will. If not, don't say it, then turn around and say you were only fooling when you find out she's angry. Reba has a very low tolerance for that cloying, sorority-girl, I-hate-to-be-mean (to-your-face) cuz-I-want-you-to-like-me crap. She ain't part of your Ya-Ya Sisterhood Grrrl Power clique--when there's work to be done, she wants no part of any of that huggy flower power kinder gentler diversity victimhood-of-male-domination silliness. She comes from a long line of women who rose at dawn, cooked, cleaned, raised housefuls of kids, chopped cotton, shucked corn, stripped cane, who knew how to butcher a hog, drive a team, and shoot a pistol--yet never found the time to think of themselves as oppressed. So, she's not really that impressed by the fact that you have a title and an office, especially if you're not getting YOUR job done.

I make this plea for you to do your job, because it makes it AWFULLY hard on ME when you're indecisive and unfathomable--because, as we know, when Mama ain't happy, ain't NOBODY happy, so if you're her boss, let me just tell you right now--straighten up, fly right, and in the words of a very wise man, "Git 'er done."

ANYway, so she got to leave earlier than planned so I told her I'd meet her at the school, and I'd go to my other meeting from there. Got to school, parked by her car, went in, followed a couple of other folks all the way back to the gym (wish I'd have know, and I would have parked back there), walked in and sat by Reba. Waited for the meeting to start, caught up on the toil of her day, and the meeting started. With PowerPoint! Yay!

Introduction of the teachers and at the extreme risk of talking about fashion for the third day in a row, I must say I don't recall my teachers looking quite...so--I don't know what.

Look, maybe when I was young, teachers might have worn all sorts of naughty underthings, but I promise you I cannot recall any of them ever dressing in a way where I could TELL they were wearing a racer-back sports bra and thong panties.

Context, people. Context.

I might be unredeemably square old fart, but it seems that there are more appropriate venues for displaying your charms than in a meeting with parents of your future students. Oh, and stay out of the tanning bed. It's really not helping your skin any.

After about fifteen minutes or so, I quietly ducked out to head to my meeting. Big one this time, but thankfully mostly just exceptions for home occupations. There was a small controversy, and a sort of testiness that I don't quite understand, aside from the fact that some people seem to have gotten themselves a fair bit of snootiness with all the recent wave of new development in town. I realize it's good to maintain your property values and such, but it doesn't help your case to keep saying you're the neighborhood president. Why? Because I don't care who you are or what you look like, the law sets forth what can and can't be done, not the fact that you are king of your block. Don't like a law? Go through the process to change it.

SEE!? All kinds of testiness!

Wrapped up pretty late, as these things go, then back toward the in-laws to eat a bit of supper. ON the way, was overcome by my special Moron-Sense, which is something like Spidey Sense, a kind of tingling when something moronic is near. Sure enough, just as I passed by the street that leads to the Mercedes Doctor, I spotted, not a Mercedes, BUT A VOLVO 240! Of course, I had to turn around and go back and look. Hmmm--I wonder if they've branched out to Swedish junk now, too!? I'll have to call!

THEN on to the in-laws, ate some steamed veggies and chicken and dumplings, then rousted all the kids to get them back to the house, which took forever, as did getting them to take their baths. It was very late when I went to bed, which might explain why I am so exceedingly sleepy, grouchy, and testy this morning.

Or not.

Posted by Terry Oglesby at May 20, 2005 09:10 AM