And the reply:
And the reply:
I rarely post about work but this is too funny not to share.
Rhonda is on my dental benefits and they requested we submit a copy of the marriage license. We did this in 2015.
Recently we found that she had been dropped from my dental insurance because
Apparently there was an issue with the marriage license we received back in 2015. It showed that it expired on 2/6/13 so your spouse was removed. I can add her back on Dental effective 1/1/17.
Thanks, (HR person)
…Okay, so first off it might have been nice for them to have told me this, but okay. I’m easy.
I said that I needed her added back for last year since we had dental bills that should have been covered last year. I was sent the following:
I was sent a copy of the license with a circle around the offending article.
I sent it back having marked it for clarity. Can’t wait to hear back!
Stay tuned for further thrilling installments of THE MARRIAGE LICENSE THAT ALMOST WASN’T!
So the other night I took a couple of the spawn out to the Smart(ish) Kids Program Family Game Night. The third and youngest spawn was unable to attend owing to her lack of engagement with the Clean Your Damn Room initiative of November 2016. This meant that The Lovely RhondaTM was forced to stay home with her and thus
avoid miss the teeming mayhem of fifty children between the ages of 7 and 12 allegedly playing games with one another.
What actually occurs is that fifty children between the ages of 7 and 12 mostly chase each other around popping the hundreds of balloons that some genius had the bright idea of inflating and distributing around the room. So it goes.
The Family Game Night has previously been held at an education service district building pretty near by, and so because I failed to pore over the email for location details because I am not smart, I operated on the assumption that it would be held in the same place this year. Silly me. Thus we found ourselves, the two older spawn and myself, unsupervised in a large, empty parking lot with the goal of quickly reaching the middle school a couple of miles away.
Friends, I am not a crazy driver. I do not speed (much) and I largely obey the rules of the road, using my turn signals and coming to a complete stop whenever indicated. But this is a large, empty parking lot, we have to get somewhere fast, and I am heady with the fumes of Friday night.
“GUYS I’M GOING TO DRIFT!” I yell, and dash around corners of the parking lot at slightly reckless speeds. The parking lot has a long entry road and there is no one around. I punch it and we bomb and weave toward the road in front of us.
The children and whooping and hollering and the oldest child splutters, “MAMA YOU ARE BEING THE DRIVER THAT OTHER DRIVERS SWEAR ABOUT! THEY ARE ALL ‘GOSH DARN YOU FLABBER GABBING THING A MA BIBBER!'” as she claws around for something to hold onto.
And I laugh until I can’t breathe, and we head off to the middle school sedately, obeying all traffic laws and using the turn signal, for two hours of
balloon popping chaos Family Game Night. The end..
Today was kind of hard.
One of the kids left the chicken house open. It opens at the top. The poor kid, she didn’t mean to leave it open and she didn’t know that chickens can fly a little, or that they could climb up the perches to the top and jump out. And I’m sure she really didn’t know that an ordinary house dog like one of ours would kill a loose chicken if given the chance. She was devastated and it was just an accident. One chicken gone and another a little stressed out but otherwise unharmed.
I had to be an adult about all of this and it sucks to be an adult. Adults have to gather up the remains of the chicken and later explain why we could not bury it in the back yard where the dog would dig it up, even if we buried it very deep in the ground. I hate being an adult.
Later in the evening I found out about a friend who chose to bring his life to an end on his own terms, facing as he was a terminal diagnosis and treatment that was not working. I don’t question his decision nor his right to do as he did. I am just sad that it ended this way, sad for him to have to choose to go alone, sad for us left behind him. He was not a close friend but always a good one, an unforgettable man, and the world is poorer without him in it.
Hug your loved ones and be good to one another. Nothing else really matters.
So a couple of years ago we attended a “mini maker faire” at the local museum of science and industry, and I stumbled upon a presentation by a droid builder’s club.
I was so hooked, but still working on my master’s degree and not able to commit any time or allow distractions.
Tomorrow is commencement, and my diploma arrived a few days ago.
Last night I signed up for an account at the astromech builder’s site. And this morning they approved me.
Hey you people in my life who know how to make stuff: I’m totally going to be calling on you to help me, show me, teach me. Building a droid is a learning experience, and I aim to learn. Game on!
So today my kid got out of school early for early dismissal, because kids nowadays get out of school early all the damn time. I don’t remember this half-day nonsense. By God, in my day we went to school full days and we liked it. And when we had a day off it was an entire day and no mistake.
Anyway, hilarity ensues:
So today I was mulling something over that was kind of bugging me. I’d even had a dream about it the other night. I’d chased someone around in the dream angrily demanding answers.
There I was, driving along perseverating on this thing that was bugging me and then this number popped into my head: FORTY-EIGHT.
I am FORTY-EIGHT years old.
Aren’t I a little too old, AT FORTY-EIGHT, to let something bug me like this? Because this thing is not something with an easy answer and angrily demanding one won’t get me anywhere, in dreams or in reality.
Chances are good that I’m misinterpreting part of the situation. Chances are also good that even if I’m not, nothing will really change the outcome. It is what it is, and I’m not going to change it by confronting anybody.
It turns out that you’re never going to be anybody but who you are, and if somebody doesn’t like who you are they can just move along. Sometimes you just have to make peace with that and get on with your life. I’m not saying it won’t still hurt. I’m just saying that it’s not worth my time anymore.
So here’s an open message to anybody who reads it: If I’m not good enough, or my family isn’t good enough, or my house isn’t good enough, or the way I live my life isn’t good enough, or virtually anything that is about me isn’t good enough for YOU, that is of no concern to ME at all. I’m not living my life for you and you don’t get a say in how I live or whether I’m happy.
If you’re wondering if this is about you, just ask yourself: do you disapprove of me in any major way? If so, do you also love me despite whatever it is that you disapprove of? Do you express your disapproval to me in some way, whether out loud or silently? (Note: disagree is not the same as disapprove) Do you make decisions about spending time with me based on your love, or is it more based on your disapproval?
If the disapproval outweighs the love, then yes, maybe this is about you.
I spend a lot of time in my work with people who are so broken and sick that they have no one. If you have a choice, your choice should be to love everybody who can stand you, because you don’t know when that might get taken away from you. If I love you, I love you despite anything about you that I may not agree with. That is my superpower.
If your disapproval outweighs your love, move it along. There is no room for you here.