It Was a Thursday

Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one.
–Jane Howard

On my way to class today, the vehicles traveling in front of me on I-75 suddenly slammed on their brakes. Fortunately, nobody hit anyone, but I soon saw what inspired the near-accidents. The interstate passes over a surface street there (I’m not sure which one, but we were just north of the south 120 loop). A man was standing on the side of the road next to a car, tossing some kind of ropes over the side. He seemed to be preparing to jump or climb down for some reason.

I called 911 because I couldn’t imagine any good reason for the fellow to be doing that. I’m still terribly curious as to what was going on. I took a different route home to avoid some of the northbound traffic, so I didn’t drive by there again. Clark Howard was on WSB, and I didn’t hear any traffic reports while I was in the car.

Katie is absolutely fascinated by the packing materials from the Calvert curriculum delivery we just received. I have no idea why, but she seems to be enjoying tearing them apart. I’m all excited—three big boxes of books and school supplies! I figure I should let her open boxes at her own pace, though. I’m trying to be patient. I’m not very good at that.

Okay, we went through all the boxes. Lovely fun things, brand new textbooks and fresh paper and art supplies and language tapes, oh my!

The girl is extremely punchy for some reason. She’s much perkier now that she’s more physically active again—maybe she’s overdosing on endorphins or something. The martial arts studio wasn’t able to find any uniform pants small enough for her—the smallest on hand didn’t begin to touch her waist or hips. She’s wearing black comfy pants she got as a Christmas gift instead. I just noticed that she “hemmed” the pants with safety pins! I realize that hemming should be a fairly simple task, but I don’t sew.

One of the “traditional” (younger) students in my speech class is attempting to convince the professor to let her turn in papers instead of giving speeches, or just do a speech in front of him instead of the whole class. That definitely classifies as “missing the point.” The poor kid is absolutely terrified, though.

Someone just called me back from PalmOne again, saying that oh, NOW they can send me another refurbished M130 before I send mine back. Sorry, that isn’t good enough anymore. They’ve had four chances to get this right, and they’ve failed. I don’t want another refurbished unit. I want a model that isn’t a lemon!

I’m finishing this after a hiatus. The girl is even punchier now, after two hours of activity. She’s just randomly giggling. Well, at least she isn’t in one of those angsty teen moods.

I think I’m going to bed now.

Cyn is Rick's wife, Katie's Mom, and Esther & Oliver's Mémé. She's also a professional geek, avid reader, fledgling coder, enthusiastic gamer (TTRPGs), occasional singer, and devoted stitcher.
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