Did I tell you I got to be a douchebag?

Okay– can I just say this isn’t a meme, it’s really what she said, and this picture and quote alone is like one of my favorite rants of all times?  And that’s saying something– a fan who read Blackbird went off on a rant about health care during the review, and I almost broke protocol to say amen– when it’s the truth, it really is their words to Goddess’s ears.

Anyway, that being said…

*whew*

So, yes.  Getting ready for RT — leaving at ass-crack-dawn, Tuesday, and sort of excited about it.  Going to Avocado Wendy’s wedding on Saturday– getting the entire family ready, which is busier than it sounds.  (Or maybe not.  I remember my grandparents nagging my father to get a haircut.  I have now become my grandmother, and Big T is very, very afraid.)  The chaos that’s resulted from simulplanning the two events at the same time is…

Daunting.

So you guys get random today, because that’s been the sort of week I’ve been having!

*  I packed SIX flat-rate boxes, the biggest ones, to send to NOLA today.  The post office crew watched me as I was working, and no, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that only one guy was there when it was my time to be waited on.  NObody wanted in on that action.

*  I was so proud of myself too– I got them all ready, carried them all to the first counter, then the second.  And then the guy behind the counter said, “That’s not a real place.  Check the zip code again.”  So I had to change the zip code.  On all six boxes.

*  I finished this blanket mostly in the car to and from San Diego and to and from Portland.  The young recipient won’t even know it’s late.

*  The cat got stoned off the blanket fumes.  What you can’t see in this picture is that he’s currently trying to snort Mate’s hair.

*  Took the kids shopping for suits and dresses last night.  Squish is wearing a grown-ups dress that looks adorable and needs just a tiny stitch to close up the chest, as she as of yet has no cleavage.  It fits. It’s adorable on her.  I’m a little afraid– she’s chubby, but she’s also very tall.   Zoomboy had to choose between a one suit with a tie and another with a hat.  He picked the hat with Perry the Platypus on it, because he’s inherited his mother’s sense of style.

*  We all went shoe shopping today.  Now I’d actually ordered an orthotic pair of shoes for this wedding specifically, but I don’t think they’re going to make it in time.  Imagine my surprise when I found size gazunga in Payless Shoe Source.  And heel cups.  Not ideal, no, but it does mean if I can’t get my toes done tomorrow, I don’t have to worry.  I can make my feet cute on Monday, and wear the Payless flats tomorrow.  And just the fact that I’m writing this down scares me, because I didn’t used to think cute feet were a thing.  Now I’m adding them to advice I give younger writers.

*  We took Mate’s mom out last weekend, as a pre-emptive mother’s day move, and she and Mate were so cute sitting together I had to take a picture.  She’s really a lovely woman– Mate is as good to her as he is to me, which makes him an even better Mate.  I’m saying.

*  And speaking of good Mate, I got back today from taking the post office and shopping and trying to write and running around in circles, and there was a box of Shari’s berries on the porch.  Happy mother’s day to me, from Mate.  I was so stressed, and it was such a sweet gesture, I cried.  We ate them all tonight (because they’re usually sent RIGHT when they’re ripe– they go bad sometimes if you wait until the next day) and they were YUMMY.

*  BTW– I know it’s late, but happy Star Wars days, people– I hope May the Fourth was with you and you survived Revenge of the Sixth.  Zoomboy is such a fan of puns, we heard those about six zillion times.  But that’s okay.  Tonight, the guy on @midnight told a joke about seeing the dentist at Tooth-hurty in the afternoon, and Mate laughed pretty much until he went to bed.  I think we can forgive ZB his little obsession.  In fact, I encouraged it– I saved this from Twitter, just for him, and he was tickled.

* Oh– and did I mention that fate gave me a chance to be a douchebag?  I mean, in grand style too– the kind of douchebag we all want to be!  So there I was, last week, sitting with Julianne and waiting for Mate to come pick me up after our road trip back from Oregon.  Now, if you all read that post, you know we were both pretty toasted by the time we got back– exhausted, edgy, not quite sane– and then to make things even merrier, there I was when I saw the guys.

You know.

The guys.  From the school I worked at.  Eating at the same place we were on their lunch break.  The guys who made my staff room a dream.  *choke*  The guys who often made me feel like I was incompetent and hysterical, because I didn’t agree with them.  The guy who did an impression of my vibrator in the staff room, and yelled at me in the middle of the quad for feminine hygiene disasters.

Those guys.

And a funny thing happened.  I wanted to talk to them.  I wanted to find out if they were okay.  I wanted to tell them that I was okay.  Because as miserable as they made me– and as misogynistic as that staff room was– they had still been my colleagues.

But, well, I also wanted to rub their noses in the fact that I didn’t have to work there anymore.  One of my favorite poems has always been The Ruin’d Maid, and I wanted to go be the ruined maid.  Yes, it was petty, but, well, I admit to pettiness sometimes.  Sue me.

So I went to talk to them and I found out that one had twins and was cancer free (and I rejoiced– I had been worried about him) and the other had, against all odds given his behavior towards women in general, gotten married.

I was genuinely happy for them.  But when the guy who’d gotten married talked about moving to another school district, I looked him in the eyes and told him that when he left, he’d be surprised at how very small the staff room really was.

I went back to sit with Julianne for a bit, but as they were leaving, I ran to tell them to make sure to tell the third leg in their little tripod hello.  He hadn’t gone out, and I’d missed him most of all.  While we were standing there, an old student came up, ignored them, and said, “Hey, Ms. Lane– so nice to see you.  I understand that they screwed you over but that you’re a big writer now.”

I shit you not.

It was glorious.

I grinned.

I said, “Well, uhm, yes.”

And she looked at my former colleagues, singing my praises, and said…

“Yeah, we loved her.  She let us watch Sponge Bob.”

“SpongeBob?  I did not!“

Ah, good moment over.

Douchebag moment repaid in full.

But it was sweet while it lasted– I swear.

And I’m glad I know the guys are okay.  I mean, I don’t forget what I learned about standing up for myself– and that I should have–but it’s that curse of seeing the whole person, too.  Yeah.  Those guys made me cry a lot.  But they also fought the good fight, and that’s admirable, and I respected them for what they did for the kids, if not the women in their own department.  So it was closure, and I”m glad.

And my next blogging day is Mother’s Day.  If the fates are kind, I’ll have some time then to blog, if only to say “Happy Mother’s Day everybody.”  I k now that two days after that I’m on a plane for NOLA, and my agenda is a little insane.  I”m blanking out just thinking about it.  Don’t say anything, I’m spazzing.

And on that note, I’m going to write for an hour!  Peace out!