Self-indulgent musings of a social retard.

Woohoo! I'm back. What a friggin' nightmare. When servers crash...it is a bad thing.

Coincidentally, my mom said that she ordered a computer for Bink for Christmas (yeah, like the six year old is gonna be the primary user.) It will be here next week. Oh well, better late than never!

Man, so much to catch up on. Let's see. I'll start with Bink and me going to Safeway last Friday. I went to the ATM to deposit a check. I was signing the back, and filling out the envelope at one of the little tables around the corner from the ATM. I could hear a constant beeping from the machine, like when someone forgets their card. When I finshed writing, I took the envelope around the corner. The machine was still beeping, but there was no one there - and this was a crowded, after 5pm at Safeway. As I'm about to stick in my card, I notice money in the tray - no card, no receipt, just the cash. I picked it up and counted. Ten twenty dollar bills. No lie. Two hundred bucks. I said "Holy shit!," to which Bink replied "No bad words, mom." Whatever. I stood there, holding the money for about 10 minutes, waiting for someone to come by with a panicked look on their face. No one came. I used the phone to call customer service. The rep. said to me "Congratulations." I was ecstatic, but I've felt so guilty, I haven't been able to spend the money. It's in a jar on my table.

Next thing: My daughter is one of only a few Black (I consider her Black, though she is biracial) kids in first grade at her school. Last week, when I took her into her the playground before school, a teacher (not hers) came to tell me that Dorothy had forgotten her lunch the previous day. I said "That's unfortunate, but maybe you should tell Dorothy's mother. I'm not her." I found the whole thing odd not only because she assumed that the Black woman must be Dorothy's mom, but because I know she must have met her mom at some point recently, since they had just started school. She truly does think we all look alike. It was also disconcerting because Bink and Dorothy had been in the same kindergarten class, and several parents assumed I was Dorothy's mother, too. Damn,people. Get a grip, or at least have the decency to be embarrassed when your called on your wrong assumptions.

I can't write any more now. I have so many diaries to read, and so little time. More soon.

It's good to be back, yahoo!

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