my hands right now.”
“Impossible,” she says.
This is the grown woman’s version of putting her hands over her ears and humming so she doesn’t have to hear what you’re saying.
“Are you saying I’m lying?”
“I’m saying you must be mistaken.”
“You know, I’m doing you a favor. I could lose my job over this. I could have brought this to the principal. But I didn’t because of Carisa. And the fact that you might have some medical condition for which you have a medical marijuana card.”
“A medical condition?”
Doesn’t she understand I’m trying to give her an out?
“Yes-plenty of people use marijuana for medical reasons; it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Minor things, like anxiety or depression.”
“I am neither anxious nor depressed, Ms. Buckle, and I appreciate your concern-but if you insist on continuing to harass me I’ll have to do something about it.”
Mrs. Norman hangs up.
After work I drive to McDonald’s and throw the baggie full of pot into the Dumpster behind the restaurant. Then I drive away like a fugitive, by which I mean obsessively looking into my rearview mirror and driving twenty miles an hour in a forty-mile-an-hour zone, praying there wasn’t a video camera in the McDonald’s parking lot. Why is everybody so rude? Why won’t we help each other? And when
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KED3 (Kentwood Elementary Third Grade Drama Parents’ Forum) Digest #129
1. Was it fair of Alice Buckle to give the geese no lines? Weigh in, people! Posted by: Queenbeebeebee
2. RE: Was it fair of Alice Buckle to give the geese no lines? Look, I know this will likely be an unpopular position, but I’m just going to come right out and say it. It’s not realistic to think that every kid in the play will have a line. It’s just not possible. Not with thirty kids in the class. Some years your kids will get lucky and get a good role. And some years they won’t. It all balances out in the end. Posted by: Farmymommy
3. RE: Was it fair of Alice Buckle to give the geese no lines? No! It’s not fair. And it doesn’t all balance out. Alice Buckle is a hypocrite! Do you think she ever cast her children as geese? I think not and I can prove it. I have all the school play programs dating back ten years. Her daughter Zoe was Mrs. Squash, Narrator #1, Lion Tamer with Arm in Cast and Lazy Bee. Her son Peter was Fractious Elf, Slightly Overweight Troll, Bovine Buffoon (everybody wanted that role) and Walnut. Alice Buckle has just gotten lazy. How hard can it be to make sure each child has at least one line? Perhaps Mrs. Buckle has been teaching drama for too long. Perhaps she should think of retiring. Posted by: Helicopmama
4. RE: Was it fair of Alice Buckle to give the geese no lines? I have to agree with Helicopmama. Something is very off with Mrs. Buckle. Shouldn’t she be keeping track of each class? The plays they’ve done and the roles each kid has performed over the years? That way she could make sure everything was equitable. If your child had a one-line role last year, well, then this year they should have a lead. And if they have no lines-well, don’t even get me started. That is simply unacceptable. My daughter is heartbroken.
5. RE: Was it fair of Alice Buckle to give the geese no lines? May I make an observation? I’m pretty sure that how many lines your child has in his or her third-grade play will have no bearing on his future. Absolutely none. And if, in fact, I’m wrong, and it does, I would ask you this: consider the possibility that a small role might be a good thing. Perhaps those children who had only one-line roles (or perhaps, no lines at all) will end up with higher self-esteem. Why? Because they will have learned from an early age to deal with disappointment and to make the best of a situation and to not quit or throw a tantrum when something doesn’t go their way. There are plenty of things going on in this world right now that are worthy of being heartbroken over. The third-grade play is not one of them. Posted by: Davidmametlurve182
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54. “Hi, Mama,” she shouted cheerfully, when we pulled up to the curb. It was nearly midnight, and William and I were picking her up from the last dance of the school year.
She stuck her head in my window and giggled. “Can we give Jew a ride home?”
“Who?” I said.
“Jew!”
“Jude,” interpreted William. “Goddammit, she’s wasted.”
William quickly rolled the car windows up, just seconds before she threw up on the passenger-seat door.
“Got your phone?” asked William.
We knew this moment would come, we had discussed our plan, and now we sprung into action. I bolted out of the car, my iPhone in hand, and started taking photos. I got some classic shots. Zoe, leaning against the car door, her fleur-de-lys crinoline splattered in vomit. Zoe, climbing into the backseat, shoeless, her sweaty hair stuck to the back of her neck. Zoe on the drive home, her head lolling on the seat; her mouth wide open. And the saddest one: her father carrying her into the house.
We had gotten this advice from friends. When she got wasted-and she
It may sound hard core but it worked. The next morning when we showed her the photos she was so horrified that, to the best of my knowledge, she hasn’t ever gotten drunk again.
55. I had William all wrong. He wasn’t some blue-blood, entitled, silver-spoon, Ivy League elitist. Everything he had he’d worked his ass off for, including a full scholarship to Yale.
“Beer?” his father, Hal, said to me, holding the refrigerator door open.
“Would you like Bud Light, Bud Light, or Bud Light?” asked William.
“I’ll take a Bud Light,” I said.
“I like her,” said Hal. “The last one drank water. No ice.” Hal gave me a huge grin. “Helen. She didn’t stand a chance once you came into the picture, right, slim? You don’t mind if I call you slim?”
“Only if you called Helen that, too.”
“Helen was not slim. Zaftig, maybe.”
I was in love with Hal already.
“I see where William gets his charm.”
“William is lots of things,” said Hal. “Driven, ambitious, smart, arrogant, but charming he is not.”
“I’m working on that,” I said.
“What are you making for dinner?” asked Hal.
“Beef stroganoff,” said William, unpacking the bag of groceries we’d brought.
“My favorite,” said Hal. “I’m sorry Fiona couldn’t make it.”
“Don’t apologize for Mom. It’s not your fault,” said William.
“She wanted to come,” said Hal.
