Journal Interrobang's Journal: Silver Linings, Denarii Ex Machina, Prospects, Boston, & 3
Silver Linings: I'm getting afraid to call home. Seems every time I do lately, my mother has something else bad to tell me. (I reiterate: Merry Crapmas.)
My maternal grandfather, the cool one, my favourite relative, who actually likes me and doesn't treat me like I have three heads (like most of the rest of my family), and who tells such great stories...has congestive heart failure.
*sigh* They're treating it with medication to get the fluid off his lungs, which seems to be working ok, but, you know, he's almost 85 years old, and...
He said the other night he woke up and was sure he was dying because he couldn't breathe. He made it through ok, but the next day he was so weak he couldn't do anything. My grandmother called his doctor's office, and the secretary/nurse* gave her a hard time, so my grandmother hung up on her (my grandmother!!). My mother, who has more guts than most of the rest of the McColl women, called back, and...Dr. Piche came to my grandma and grandpa's house after his office hours were over, and looked at my grandpa...
A house call, in this day and age. Thank you Dr. Piche.
_______
* She's also the doctor's wife, and my mother says "a real bitch," which must mean she's absolute hell on wheels, as I think I've only ever heard her call about three people that in my entire life.
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Denarii Ex Machina: D. got a windfall from the insurance company regarding his broken back, so he's said he'll spot me a couple hundred, so that takes a little of the pressure off, especially since my mom said she's been in no shape to shop, so my sister and I are getting money. A short gig between Christmas and New Years' would still be nice, though.
_____
Prospects: That said, January is looking all right. I have a half a lead on a courseware authoring gig with a non-profit that might keep me busy for a few months, should I secure it; I've applied for about a half-million jobs; I have to call a temp agency back on Monday, since they seemed rather anxious to talk to me; and I'm finally in an employment agency programme specialising in helping people with disabilities (ie. me) find work. I can still, of course, use all the help I can get.
_______
Boston: A friend of mine has offered to fly me to Boston at the end of January to work in his booth at a big SCA event (generous fellah!) if I can find cheap airfare. I think I'm going to start looking, because I'd be a fool not to... I haven't been to Boston before...
_______
Three Decades of Interrobangishness: My thirtieth birthday is coming up in slightly less than two months, which means I'd better start pre-emptively planning the party now! I have a couple of friends who would be more than pleased to plan me a party (and they'd probably do a better job of it, since they have tons of money and a big house and she cooks like nobody's business), but the centrepiece of anybody's thirtieth birthday party at their house is the hapless celebrant getting a pie pushed into their face, and I'd really rather not, thank you. (I told them they could push a pie in my face on two conditions and two conditions alone: If and only if a) the pie was lemon meringue [inside joke], and b) they brought a certain once-and-future Slashdot denizen who's From Away here to Soviet Canuckistan to witness the event -- and help lick off the pie. >:) Note to Constant Readers: If "lemon meringue pie" doesn't signify to you as something humourous in an Interrobangish context, you're not the one who would have been getting invited, and further, I ain't tellin' who it is!!) They chuckled politely, so I gather that's not happening.
Nevertheless, I'd better put something together (no doubt with chocolate fondue, Evil Hebrew Disco, and -- in the event of a miracle -- a certain lemon meringue pie-loving foreigner), or else I'm going to be picking pie out of my bangs (or "fringe," if you'd prefer, *snicker*) come the 13th of February, 2005...
Jesus H. Fripping Rid Christ, broke, unemployed, and pushing thirty, and all I have to show for it is a very expensive set of degrees... Life, the Universe, and Everything hates me. Phft. Exeunt the Interrobang in a spleeny cloud of disgust...
My maternal grandfather, the cool one, my favourite relative, who actually likes me and doesn't treat me like I have three heads (like most of the rest of my family), and who tells such great stories...has congestive heart failure.
*sigh* They're treating it with medication to get the fluid off his lungs, which seems to be working ok, but, you know, he's almost 85 years old, and...
He said the other night he woke up and was sure he was dying because he couldn't breathe. He made it through ok, but the next day he was so weak he couldn't do anything. My grandmother called his doctor's office, and the secretary/nurse* gave her a hard time, so my grandmother hung up on her (my grandmother!!). My mother, who has more guts than most of the rest of the McColl women, called back, and...Dr. Piche came to my grandma and grandpa's house after his office hours were over, and looked at my grandpa...
A house call, in this day and age. Thank you Dr. Piche.
_______
* She's also the doctor's wife, and my mother says "a real bitch," which must mean she's absolute hell on wheels, as I think I've only ever heard her call about three people that in my entire life.
_____
Denarii Ex Machina: D. got a windfall from the insurance company regarding his broken back, so he's said he'll spot me a couple hundred, so that takes a little of the pressure off, especially since my mom said she's been in no shape to shop, so my sister and I are getting money. A short gig between Christmas and New Years' would still be nice, though.
_____
Prospects: That said, January is looking all right. I have a half a lead on a courseware authoring gig with a non-profit that might keep me busy for a few months, should I secure it; I've applied for about a half-million jobs; I have to call a temp agency back on Monday, since they seemed rather anxious to talk to me; and I'm finally in an employment agency programme specialising in helping people with disabilities (ie. me) find work. I can still, of course, use all the help I can get.
_______
Boston: A friend of mine has offered to fly me to Boston at the end of January to work in his booth at a big SCA event (generous fellah!) if I can find cheap airfare. I think I'm going to start looking, because I'd be a fool not to... I haven't been to Boston before...
_______
Three Decades of Interrobangishness: My thirtieth birthday is coming up in slightly less than two months, which means I'd better start pre-emptively planning the party now! I have a couple of friends who would be more than pleased to plan me a party (and they'd probably do a better job of it, since they have tons of money and a big house and she cooks like nobody's business), but the centrepiece of anybody's thirtieth birthday party at their house is the hapless celebrant getting a pie pushed into their face, and I'd really rather not, thank you. (I told them they could push a pie in my face on two conditions and two conditions alone: If and only if a) the pie was lemon meringue [inside joke], and b) they brought a certain once-and-future Slashdot denizen who's From Away here to Soviet Canuckistan to witness the event -- and help lick off the pie. >:) Note to Constant Readers: If "lemon meringue pie" doesn't signify to you as something humourous in an Interrobangish context, you're not the one who would have been getting invited, and further, I ain't tellin' who it is!!) They chuckled politely, so I gather that's not happening.
Nevertheless, I'd better put something together (no doubt with chocolate fondue, Evil Hebrew Disco, and -- in the event of a miracle -- a certain lemon meringue pie-loving foreigner), or else I'm going to be picking pie out of my bangs (or "fringe," if you'd prefer, *snicker*) come the 13th of February, 2005...
Jesus H. Fripping Rid Christ, broke, unemployed, and pushing thirty, and all I have to show for it is a very expensive set of degrees... Life, the Universe, and Everything hates me. Phft. Exeunt the Interrobang in a spleeny cloud of disgust...
spleeny? (Score:2)
-Ab
Re:spleeny? (Score:2)
Re:spleeny? (Score:2)