I'd never heard of him before. Apparently I'm the only one; it seems that everyone else knows who he is. It was very late at night and we were traveling from Atlanta to Clarksville. We were somewhere outside of Nashville and I needed a stop. After purchasing a whole wheat doughnut (do the fat and calories count if it's whole wheat?) and a cup of tea we were ready to get back on the road. I went to the door and it was opened from the other side by a very well built man wearing white cowboy boots, whitie tighties and a white cowboy hat; nothing else. It was 34 degrees outside. Let me tell you, I was floored. But he was nice enough and let me get a picture with him. I think we make a great pair, what do you think?
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
The Naked Cowboy
I'd never heard of him before. Apparently I'm the only one; it seems that everyone else knows who he is. It was very late at night and we were traveling from Atlanta to Clarksville. We were somewhere outside of Nashville and I needed a stop. After purchasing a whole wheat doughnut (do the fat and calories count if it's whole wheat?) and a cup of tea we were ready to get back on the road. I went to the door and it was opened from the other side by a very well built man wearing white cowboy boots, whitie tighties and a white cowboy hat; nothing else. It was 34 degrees outside. Let me tell you, I was floored. But he was nice enough and let me get a picture with him. I think we make a great pair, what do you think?
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Blake
At two he was a hellion with golden curls and large brown almond
shaped eyes that sparkled with mischief. He'd yell "beep, beep, get
out of my way!" as he plowed the plastic car he was driving through
the block towers and baby doll nurseries of his classmates in my
Sunday school class. During story time he couldn't sit still. He'd
have to turn the pages as he asked questions, or touch the puppets to
see if they were real. He wanted to know why and how everything
happened. During craft time he'd spill the glitter and eat the paste
and color out of line. His frustration level was low and impulsivity
was high and that often made for an explosive mix that would end with
a tantrum or a random act of violence. Keeping him on the think it
over chair was impossible. In two hours he could completely wear out
three adults and a class full of two year olds. By the time he was
four a social worker decided that he was suffering from a mild form of
fetal alcohol syndrome and convinced his step mother and father to
place him in a program for special needs children. For a whole year
things seemed to be going well for him. With help from the experts
his parents placed him on a solid schedule. He began to sleep through
the night and was no longer wetting the bed or sucking his thumb. His
temper tantrums subsided somewhat as his teachers were able to make
some headway with his frustration level and channel his creativity
into positive interest. It looked like he might just turn it around
and do well. But pre-school is only for one year and the public
kindergarten wasn't prepared for his needs. The teacher's aide became
Blake's keeper and the school counselor had him tested for ADHD. He
probably does have it, but it also seems that the golden answer to any
kid that moves is to place him on medication as early as possible.
His parents then became active in the local support group and got
their son into therapy. He wore counselors out nearly as fast as
Sunday school teachers, and with every new expert came a new
medication to try or a new routine and most certainly a revised
diagnosis. Sometimes I wondered as I listened to his parents talk if
even they saw the wonderful child underneath the fancy labels and
stringent rules. He was curious beyond measure. If the church was at
a pick nick by the lake, he'd be catching tree frogs and bugs in jars.
He'd be up on the top of the swing set or swimming way, way too far
out on the lake. He rarely read if he wasn't being forced too, but he
could recite the scripts to all three of the Star Wars Trilogy. If he
was out looking at the stars at night he could name the constellations
for you. And he was always the first to complete the work book at the
AWANA club because he wanted the biggest prize. When he was ten his
father caught pneumonia, and his step mother was suffering from skin
cancer. He hadn't seen his birth mother in years and it didn't
matter. She was in jail in Florida and couldn't take care of him
anyway. He came to live with me for two weeks and it was during that
time he first started calling me Mom. He fit right in with my boys
and you would have thought that he was just another brother. They
turned him on to the world of Link and Mario. Within days he owned
the games. It seems like he had a natural talent for anything
technical or mechanical. His dad is a drummer and Blake certainly
inherited the family's musical gene. He'd mastered the bass in a
matter of hours. As long as there was something and someone to keep
him occupied he did well, but when the attention was unfocused I could
easily see where his step mother was exasperated. During the
transitions where everyone was getting ready for bed or to go
somewhere he was a master of devising chaos. He could disorganize a
room in a few minutes flat. He could get tempers flaring and after it
was over it was hard to remember what everyone was so upset about.
Still inside, there was a sweet child who was afraid and wanted to be
seen. If someone was crying, he'd hug them. If someone was
discouraged, he'd cheer them on. He was patient when he was
explaining how things worked or how to do something. I knew in those
two weeks that this child was a mess. By the time he was in middle
school you may as well have considered his academic career over.
Everyone was only going through the motions of trying to teach him
anything. He grew his hair long so he could cover his face with his
bang and disconnect while he was slouching down in his chair. He
never participated in any class, even the ones that might have once
interested. It was all he could do to pull a low C or a solid D as a
grade. He didn't go to Sunday school anymore and he sat on the
sidelines at the youth meetings. His only friends were the other two
miss-fits who looked just like him. By the time he hit high school
he'd shaved the sides of his head and spiked his hair into a Mohawk.
He'd pierced his nose with a safety pin and his friend had drawn a
chain around his bicep with a ball point pen. There was enough
material in the jeans that he had hung low on his hips to clothe him
for a year. His teachers were lucky if he showed up for class. He
wasn't very well accepted by the kids at youth group any longer, but
his parents told him that he had to go. After a while he started
coming into the sanctuary to watch the band practice. Since there
wasn't a lot to do he started to hang around the tech bench. Soon
Bill, the sound tech took him under his wing and it wasn't long before
Blake could run the sound board and lights on his own. He was
fearless when it came to running wiring in the old church, and being
young with a healthy back to move the heavy monitors made him a real
asset to the team. He really liked being accepted by the adults. He
was willing to do anything as long has he could hang out with us.
Unfortunately he found a crowd to hang out with at school too, and
they weren't so good for him. When he was fifteen he started staying
out late, and coming in drunk. His step mother found a bag of pot in
his room and they decided that he needed to go to a treatment center.
For a while afterward he did OK, but it doesn't take long to get back
into bad habits. On his seventeenth birthday he and his friends
celebrated by breaking into a local pharmacy. He didn't really want
to do it and left before anything was taken, but his friends stayed
around and were caught by the police. They were such good friends
they had to mention that Blake had been there too, and of course the
surveillance video showed him clearly walking in the door with them.
He was sentenced to four years, but was released on probation when he
earned his GED after six months. He didn't move back in with his
parents, but rented a room in an apartment leased by a few of his old
friends. He got a job doing roofing with a sub-contractor and even
managed to buy an old beat up car. He came back to church and got
involved once again with the tech ministry. This time he even began to
play with one of the church's youth bands. He seemed that he may be
getting it back together. But he started missing days a work so he
was laid off, and he missed an appointment with his probation officer
who sent the police out to check up on him. They found Blake drunk
and smoking pot with his friends at the apartment. Blake went back to
serve out the rest of his sentence without chance for parole. This
time he did not write to us, and he refused to come down for visits
when we made them. It seemed that he was just lost in a whole. When
he got out he didn't have such an easy time finding a place to live or
a job. He lived with his grandmother for a while until she became
convinced that he was stealing from her and she kicked him out. He
came to church a few times, usually drunk and un-bathed and sometimes
bringing along rough looking friends. We really did try to welcome
him, but welcoming wasn't really what he wanted. His parents were
embarrassed and angry at him. But after a while Blake just wandered
off. Nobody knew where he was. Three weeks ago we were singing the
worship set in church and there was a familiar voice behind me. I
turned around that there was Blake. He was clean and shaven and
wearing appropriate clothes, which for our church can be as simple as
a tee shirt and a pair of jeans. He said "Hi Mom". He has a job with
a construction crew that hires from the carpenters union. He's
enrolled himself for the spring semester at the local trade school.
For the following two Sunday's he was back and after one of the
services he asked me to go to lunch with him and then to attend a
meeting where some of his new friends would be having a celebration
for him. I was a bit wary, but decided what could it hurt? We ate at
a mom and pop buffet that served mostly salt and grease and then made
our way to a building that was mostly hidden from view by the trees.
I was a bit uncomfortable at the meeting, as I'd never been to one
before but nobody expected anything of me so that was fine. At the
end of the meeting a pretty young woman was passing out chips and she
got to the chips for those who'd participated for six months. Blake
stood up, hugged the girl and everyone in the room cheered him. Then
he said "Hello, my name is Blake and I'm an addict and an alcoholic."
I don't know how this is going to work out for him. I truly hope
that this will be what he needs to get himself on the right path.
shaped eyes that sparkled with mischief. He'd yell "beep, beep, get
out of my way!" as he plowed the plastic car he was driving through
the block towers and baby doll nurseries of his classmates in my
Sunday school class. During story time he couldn't sit still. He'd
have to turn the pages as he asked questions, or touch the puppets to
see if they were real. He wanted to know why and how everything
happened. During craft time he'd spill the glitter and eat the paste
and color out of line. His frustration level was low and impulsivity
was high and that often made for an explosive mix that would end with
a tantrum or a random act of violence. Keeping him on the think it
over chair was impossible. In two hours he could completely wear out
three adults and a class full of two year olds. By the time he was
four a social worker decided that he was suffering from a mild form of
fetal alcohol syndrome and convinced his step mother and father to
place him in a program for special needs children. For a whole year
things seemed to be going well for him. With help from the experts
his parents placed him on a solid schedule. He began to sleep through
the night and was no longer wetting the bed or sucking his thumb. His
temper tantrums subsided somewhat as his teachers were able to make
some headway with his frustration level and channel his creativity
into positive interest. It looked like he might just turn it around
and do well. But pre-school is only for one year and the public
kindergarten wasn't prepared for his needs. The teacher's aide became
Blake's keeper and the school counselor had him tested for ADHD. He
probably does have it, but it also seems that the golden answer to any
kid that moves is to place him on medication as early as possible.
His parents then became active in the local support group and got
their son into therapy. He wore counselors out nearly as fast as
Sunday school teachers, and with every new expert came a new
medication to try or a new routine and most certainly a revised
diagnosis. Sometimes I wondered as I listened to his parents talk if
even they saw the wonderful child underneath the fancy labels and
stringent rules. He was curious beyond measure. If the church was at
a pick nick by the lake, he'd be catching tree frogs and bugs in jars.
He'd be up on the top of the swing set or swimming way, way too far
out on the lake. He rarely read if he wasn't being forced too, but he
could recite the scripts to all three of the Star Wars Trilogy. If he
was out looking at the stars at night he could name the constellations
for you. And he was always the first to complete the work book at the
AWANA club because he wanted the biggest prize. When he was ten his
father caught pneumonia, and his step mother was suffering from skin
cancer. He hadn't seen his birth mother in years and it didn't
matter. She was in jail in Florida and couldn't take care of him
anyway. He came to live with me for two weeks and it was during that
time he first started calling me Mom. He fit right in with my boys
and you would have thought that he was just another brother. They
turned him on to the world of Link and Mario. Within days he owned
the games. It seems like he had a natural talent for anything
technical or mechanical. His dad is a drummer and Blake certainly
inherited the family's musical gene. He'd mastered the bass in a
matter of hours. As long as there was something and someone to keep
him occupied he did well, but when the attention was unfocused I could
easily see where his step mother was exasperated. During the
transitions where everyone was getting ready for bed or to go
somewhere he was a master of devising chaos. He could disorganize a
room in a few minutes flat. He could get tempers flaring and after it
was over it was hard to remember what everyone was so upset about.
Still inside, there was a sweet child who was afraid and wanted to be
seen. If someone was crying, he'd hug them. If someone was
discouraged, he'd cheer them on. He was patient when he was
explaining how things worked or how to do something. I knew in those
two weeks that this child was a mess. By the time he was in middle
school you may as well have considered his academic career over.
Everyone was only going through the motions of trying to teach him
anything. He grew his hair long so he could cover his face with his
bang and disconnect while he was slouching down in his chair. He
never participated in any class, even the ones that might have once
interested. It was all he could do to pull a low C or a solid D as a
grade. He didn't go to Sunday school anymore and he sat on the
sidelines at the youth meetings. His only friends were the other two
miss-fits who looked just like him. By the time he hit high school
he'd shaved the sides of his head and spiked his hair into a Mohawk.
He'd pierced his nose with a safety pin and his friend had drawn a
chain around his bicep with a ball point pen. There was enough
material in the jeans that he had hung low on his hips to clothe him
for a year. His teachers were lucky if he showed up for class. He
wasn't very well accepted by the kids at youth group any longer, but
his parents told him that he had to go. After a while he started
coming into the sanctuary to watch the band practice. Since there
wasn't a lot to do he started to hang around the tech bench. Soon
Bill, the sound tech took him under his wing and it wasn't long before
Blake could run the sound board and lights on his own. He was
fearless when it came to running wiring in the old church, and being
young with a healthy back to move the heavy monitors made him a real
asset to the team. He really liked being accepted by the adults. He
was willing to do anything as long has he could hang out with us.
Unfortunately he found a crowd to hang out with at school too, and
they weren't so good for him. When he was fifteen he started staying
out late, and coming in drunk. His step mother found a bag of pot in
his room and they decided that he needed to go to a treatment center.
For a while afterward he did OK, but it doesn't take long to get back
into bad habits. On his seventeenth birthday he and his friends
celebrated by breaking into a local pharmacy. He didn't really want
to do it and left before anything was taken, but his friends stayed
around and were caught by the police. They were such good friends
they had to mention that Blake had been there too, and of course the
surveillance video showed him clearly walking in the door with them.
He was sentenced to four years, but was released on probation when he
earned his GED after six months. He didn't move back in with his
parents, but rented a room in an apartment leased by a few of his old
friends. He got a job doing roofing with a sub-contractor and even
managed to buy an old beat up car. He came back to church and got
involved once again with the tech ministry. This time he even began to
play with one of the church's youth bands. He seemed that he may be
getting it back together. But he started missing days a work so he
was laid off, and he missed an appointment with his probation officer
who sent the police out to check up on him. They found Blake drunk
and smoking pot with his friends at the apartment. Blake went back to
serve out the rest of his sentence without chance for parole. This
time he did not write to us, and he refused to come down for visits
when we made them. It seemed that he was just lost in a whole. When
he got out he didn't have such an easy time finding a place to live or
a job. He lived with his grandmother for a while until she became
convinced that he was stealing from her and she kicked him out. He
came to church a few times, usually drunk and un-bathed and sometimes
bringing along rough looking friends. We really did try to welcome
him, but welcoming wasn't really what he wanted. His parents were
embarrassed and angry at him. But after a while Blake just wandered
off. Nobody knew where he was. Three weeks ago we were singing the
worship set in church and there was a familiar voice behind me. I
turned around that there was Blake. He was clean and shaven and
wearing appropriate clothes, which for our church can be as simple as
a tee shirt and a pair of jeans. He said "Hi Mom". He has a job with
a construction crew that hires from the carpenters union. He's
enrolled himself for the spring semester at the local trade school.
For the following two Sunday's he was back and after one of the
services he asked me to go to lunch with him and then to attend a
meeting where some of his new friends would be having a celebration
for him. I was a bit wary, but decided what could it hurt? We ate at
a mom and pop buffet that served mostly salt and grease and then made
our way to a building that was mostly hidden from view by the trees.
I was a bit uncomfortable at the meeting, as I'd never been to one
before but nobody expected anything of me so that was fine. At the
end of the meeting a pretty young woman was passing out chips and she
got to the chips for those who'd participated for six months. Blake
stood up, hugged the girl and everyone in the room cheered him. Then
he said "Hello, my name is Blake and I'm an addict and an alcoholic."
I don't know how this is going to work out for him. I truly hope
that this will be what he needs to get himself on the right path.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Still Waiting
Last Thursday I had biopsies that I'm still black and blue from. But
that isn't what has me worried. What has me dangling over the edge is
that the path report was supposed to be back on Tuesday, and I'm
waiting for it still. I called about it on Tuesday afternoon and
yesterday morning and finally heard from the nurse that it wasn't
there yet. The reasonable, rational part of my brain (as hopelessly
minute as it is) tells me that the pathologist can't have every
patient in the state calling asking were the results are. The vast
majority (the emotional side) of my brain is screaming that this isn't
fair. I should have those results. I want to call someone and say
"Where is it? When can I expect it? Whom can I contact if it isn't
there when I expect it." The nurse assured me that they would call
with the results when they got them (IE...don't call us, we'll call
you) So I'm sitting here keenly aware that my phone isn't ringing and
afraid that I'm going to have to spend another weekend not knowing
that isn't what has me worried. What has me dangling over the edge is
that the path report was supposed to be back on Tuesday, and I'm
waiting for it still. I called about it on Tuesday afternoon and
yesterday morning and finally heard from the nurse that it wasn't
there yet. The reasonable, rational part of my brain (as hopelessly
minute as it is) tells me that the pathologist can't have every
patient in the state calling asking were the results are. The vast
majority (the emotional side) of my brain is screaming that this isn't
fair. I should have those results. I want to call someone and say
"Where is it? When can I expect it? Whom can I contact if it isn't
there when I expect it." The nurse assured me that they would call
with the results when they got them (IE...don't call us, we'll call
you) So I'm sitting here keenly aware that my phone isn't ringing and
afraid that I'm going to have to spend another weekend not knowing
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Valentines Day
I usually try to ignore this day. It usually is only a popularity
contest, and I'm not in the clique. But as it goes, today wasn't so
bad. Really, it seemed that there was a derth of flowers and
chocolate on the 7th floor. Most people were celebrating over the
weekend. Or maybe they are just getting older and are getting over it.
contest, and I'm not in the clique. But as it goes, today wasn't so
bad. Really, it seemed that there was a derth of flowers and
chocolate on the 7th floor. Most people were celebrating over the
weekend. Or maybe they are just getting older and are getting over it.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Survey's
My survey's are coming in for the second time. I had to trash the
results of the first set of surveys that came in. It's a really long
story, that is becoming all to common in the department that I'm in,
but suffice it to say that they were not the right survey, so another
survey was sent out with our apologies. The new survey's are coming
in and it is looking like "fifth verse, same as the first." I spend
from January until May every year on these things, and we aren't
getting an original answer anywhere. The only justification we have
for taking the survey is that we use the research to justify our
jobs...It is bothersome that there is a whole group of us who have to
justify our employment by asking questions of which we already know
the answer. I wonder how much money we could save if upper management
just understood that we need the money to provide advertising to our
customer counters and if we don't litter their stores with eye candy
our competitors would be using the space we aren't occupying. Maybe
we could use the time and money to produce more well thought out and
designed eye candy. Instead, I will be circling this squirrel cage
until I die.
results of the first set of surveys that came in. It's a really long
story, that is becoming all to common in the department that I'm in,
but suffice it to say that they were not the right survey, so another
survey was sent out with our apologies. The new survey's are coming
in and it is looking like "fifth verse, same as the first." I spend
from January until May every year on these things, and we aren't
getting an original answer anywhere. The only justification we have
for taking the survey is that we use the research to justify our
jobs...It is bothersome that there is a whole group of us who have to
justify our employment by asking questions of which we already know
the answer. I wonder how much money we could save if upper management
just understood that we need the money to provide advertising to our
customer counters and if we don't litter their stores with eye candy
our competitors would be using the space we aren't occupying. Maybe
we could use the time and money to produce more well thought out and
designed eye candy. Instead, I will be circling this squirrel cage
until I die.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Biopsies
The biopsies were rougher on me than I'd thought they'd be. They were
sterotactic biopsies, and I'd never had one of those done before. She
got it done very quickly, and I think that some of the other women
that had been in the patient waiting area were a bit miffed that I was
getting called ahead of them. When I got back from getting the
initial ultrasound one of them who I paid to get called so fast. I
only shrugged and said that it moved faster if they thought you might
have cancer. I don't really think that's true, but who's going to
complain about not having cancer? Anyway, the experience left me
queasy and lightheaded for a long while afterward. The pain was more
than I remembered from the past needle biopsies, and I have some
bruises that are going to take some time to heal. All in all, this is
something that should be avoided if possible. I'm hoping to get the
pathology report back on Tuesday. Then we will atleast know where to
go from here.
sterotactic biopsies, and I'd never had one of those done before. She
got it done very quickly, and I think that some of the other women
that had been in the patient waiting area were a bit miffed that I was
getting called ahead of them. When I got back from getting the
initial ultrasound one of them who I paid to get called so fast. I
only shrugged and said that it moved faster if they thought you might
have cancer. I don't really think that's true, but who's going to
complain about not having cancer? Anyway, the experience left me
queasy and lightheaded for a long while afterward. The pain was more
than I remembered from the past needle biopsies, and I have some
bruises that are going to take some time to heal. All in all, this is
something that should be avoided if possible. I'm hoping to get the
pathology report back on Tuesday. Then we will atleast know where to
go from here.
Monday, February 5, 2007
Wasted days
I thought that I'd be getting biopsies done on Thursday, but I'd written the day down wrong in my calendar. My appointment was for Friday. Not to worry, I'd taken a few extra days off work to go to Montgomery and then to Ft. Campbell. But my ex called on Wednesday night and said that he was ill and couldn't make the trip. My son was still on for Montgomery so we decided to leave early on Saturday. I thought that he was working on Friday. I didn't question him on that. I went to the appointment on Friday and wrote about my confusion about it that day. They did the ultrasounds that day, but rescheduled me for the biopsies, and they have decided to biopsy a place that hadn't been a concern during the last visit. It was totally confusing. What was worse was the decision to do the biopsies at another time. I feel almost certain that the decision was made because the doctor had been overbooked for Friday. The scheduler said that "The doctor does procedures on Thursdays." she didn't say "The doctor only does procedures on Thursdays." When I left in November they told me that I was making an appointment to re-do the ultrasounds and to do biopsies. That much had been clear to me. Now they are saying that I needed to get referrals with special coding from my primary care doctor. Now they are saying that I will need someone to drive me, no explanation for that one. When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer in 2004, I drove myself to their office. I had many biopsies done in the office on a Wednesday and I drove myself home afterward, in shock. I don't understand the difference this time. It does no good to argue, so I made the appointment. My son and I went to Montgomery to watch Lizzie in the J.R.O.T.C. National Drill Meet. She did a very good job in both of her competitions, but they didn't place for trophies. It's a tough competition. After we left some kid hurt her feelings by calling her fat. She is a bit overweight, but she's been slowly and steadily losing weight. It really didn't matter because it was a cheap shot that he didn't even have to work hard find. He'd messed up badly in his competition and was feeling bad about himself. She was sitting alone and was an easy target. He could have called any girl fat and hurt her feelings and he probably knows it. So he did it and she walked away trying to avoid the confrontation. His friends had laughed and he wasn't ready to let it go yet so he called over to her "aww, what's wrong, is fatty going to cry?" She should have said something to the tune of "Ohhh, is eeny weeny upset because he dropped his rifle? No trophies for clumsey boys with no balls." She's cried about it for two days now and I'm having to be stringent that eating healthy is working and she can't go on fad diets. I'm really worried about her becoming anorexic. She's at that age, and my mother was an anorexic. I'm furious at this stupid kid. I wrote an email to the commander of the unit asking him to speak to the kid. I hope he takes me seriously. Since I'm not in Ft. Campbell I could have gone back to work, but decided to take the day off anyway. I went to a meeting with my son and met quite a few of his friends. We had lunch afterwards and caught up on a lot of things. I rented a car to use for the next few days while Andrew is still at SLS. It's a Toyota Corrolla, and to my surprise I really like it. For some reason I'd always just shaken my head at them. Tomorrow is back to work and then I have the biopsies on Thursday. I guess I will find out then why this time I need someone to drive me home.
Friday, February 2, 2007
Twisted
Today was twisted. I went into my surgeon's office expecting to get ultrasounds of both breasts and biopsies on my left breast. I did get the ultrasounds, but my surgeon told me that the places that we were concerned about on the left breast appear to be nothing, however the place on the right breast that we weren't really concerned about, but were watching was now appearing ominous. She wants a biopsy of it, but not until Thursday. Twisted! I feel off center. Everything I went in expecting, and everything that we've discussed in the past 3 months seems not to apply. I feel like I'm playing Life (the kids board game) with someone who makes up the rules as they go.
My bad
OK this was my bad. I wrote the appointment date down wrong. I showed
up today a whole day early. It was a nasty day today and the schools
declared a snow day, I'm sure they have had a cancellation or two.
Couldn't they have worked me in considering that I took a day off of
work and drove 25 miles? Apparently not. I have to go back tomorrow.
It doesn' matter that I'm going through hell just to show up and I
have to talk my family off the ceiling. I have to do this all again.
up today a whole day early. It was a nasty day today and the schools
declared a snow day, I'm sure they have had a cancellation or two.
Couldn't they have worked me in considering that I took a day off of
work and drove 25 miles? Apparently not. I have to go back tomorrow.
It doesn' matter that I'm going through hell just to show up and I
have to talk my family off the ceiling. I have to do this all again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)