Sah-mokin'!

Had a meeting yesterday with my middle daughter’s teachers to discuss next year’s IEP (Individualized Education Program), as well as current progress, which turned out lovely. My girl’s doing a terrific job and has improved greatly as regards to transition, socialization, and schoolwork. She’ll no longer be needing occupational therapy, and her primary teacher told me that my daughter is one of her favorite students, and “looks forward to seeing her every day,” because she is “such a sweet girl who has a great sense of humor” and “who displays a lot of enthusiasm” and has the “most beautiful big blue eyes and brilliant smile.” She also said that my girl is a phenomenally creative writer, which is no surprise to me, but her teacher suggested I continue to encourage my girl to read her work as if she were someone else and revise accordingly -- she tends to spill everything out stream-of-consciousness-like, and often begins paragraphs in the middle of a thought or action, as if the reader knows what she is seeing in her head. Sally Lou From Kalamazoo (one of my many nicknames for her), also does that in conversation, which is amusing most times, but can be frustrating, especially when she gets frustrated by my ignorance. For example, she’ll occasionally blurt out something like, “So what should I do about that, Mom?” And I’ll say, “About what?” and she’ll reply, “Moooom! You know! The costume I have to make!” And I’ll say, “Costume? What costume?”

And on and on it goes. But she’s also one person of very few who can make me laugh to the point of tears.

She’s so awesome.

Know what else is awesome? Putting a snotty biotch in her snotty biotchy place, like I did yesterday when having a quick smoke in the practically vacant parking lot of the dentist’s office while waiting for my kids to get sealant put on their teeth (it’d been a looong day, and hadn’t had a cigarette in hours and hours). So there I was, minding my own business, enjoying the unusually warm and sunny weather with a nice smoke -- well away from the entrance doors, I might add -- when a young, slightly overweight, overly tanned lady wearing a micro-mini and tiny T-shirt that read "Porn Star" exited the dentist’s office, saw me standing there on the other side of the low ramp that leads to the sidewalk, and proceeded to wrinkle her nose and dramatically gag.

So I said, “If you think this is gross, you should see me when I shoot up heroin.”

She put her head down and, with barely-covered asscheeks wiggling in time to her bobbling braless breasts, quickly ran to her car.