Prolific

My poor blog is dusty. While I'm walking the dogs (three times a day), I often think about my blog and its dusty state. I ponder writing a new entry and consider topics and what happens inside my brain is something like white noise. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

And, in all honesty (which is, of course, the point of blogging, right?), I really don't have anything now either. Things are, well, fine. Not in that teeth-clenched use of the word. Just fine. Work is going fine (if a bit confusing, since my promotion still hasn't been announced to my new staff...). I've stayed quite busy taking on the administration of this venue, and I'm looking forward to some changes in the next few months.

And at home? The kids are doing fine. (That word again!) School is, well, school, meaning the kids have good grades but all the same annoying things keep being annoying (particularly the weight, likely measured in tonnage, of my pre-adolescent daughter's backpack). I sometimes wonder if we'd be happier with a different school, but I have a feeling that we'd just get a new set of grievances. This week's grievance speaks more of the public served by the public school than the school: just before winter break, a note came home that the school would no longer accept checks for payment for field trips and other incidentals. Craig and I read the memo several times, noting that it specifically did NOT say "afterschool enrichment tuition". Afterschool enrichment tuition is $100 per class, and our boy takes two classes, so we knew we'd be sending a $200 payment in mid-January. We re-read it again, just to make sure, and quite confidently sent in the registration form with a check.

And the check? Came back home that afternoon. With a stressed little boy who thought he wouldn't be able to take the classes since it was the deadline for registration.

Oh hell no! (Spoken in my best Memphis ghetto accent, arms akimbo, with a bit of motion in my neck.) I wasn't about to send $200 in cash with an eight-year-old child, nor was I planning to head over to a gas station to get a money order.

So I called the school. I explained, quite cordially, that there was no way in hell that I was sending $200 cash with a child of eight, and that if they needed me to pay with a money order, I'd be happy to get that to them next Monday, because I have a job and can't just run out and buy money orders whenever I feel like it. (Maybe I was bluffing just a tiny bit...but that doesn't really matter, does it?) The regular secretary gave me the whole, "I totally understand your point, but the deadline is tomorrow," response, then offered to transfer me to the financial secretary, who also totally understood my point and hated that a few deadbeats who wrote bad checks to the school ruined it for all the rest of us fiscally-responsible people.

Then she did exactly what I meant for her to do.

"Mrs. Kid's Mom, go ahead and send the check with your son tomorrow. I'll make an exception this time."

She also gave me her name, which I wrote on the registration form, along with the time and date of our conversation, just in case someone got all crazy and forgot that we had this conversation.

Annnnnnnnnnd, I just spent longer typing this entry than the whole drama took in real life. And it's actually kind of hard to even call it drama. Maybe anecdote is a better word?

Which brings me to this: my blog is dusty. Probably because my life is less-than-scintillating just now. I'll update more when I actually have something to say, okay?