Conversation with my mother (part II)

Emailed my dad the other day asking for an uncle's number that I could use as a reference for my job application. He wrote back yesterday...blah blah...your mom and I are doing fine...blah blah...going to Europe...blah blah blah...uncle's phone number...etc...THEN...I almost fell out of my chair..."Jamie just called us this morning to tell us that she has a boyfriend".......AHHHHHH my little sister has a boyfriend!!!!! I know I know she's 17, and taller than me...but but but...she's my little sister...ahhh...

Well after I composed myself and decided I would feel happy for Jamie...after all she is following after her sister's footsteps (minus the near-death part), he's 5 inches taller than her and he's white. So I decided to call home to get all the nitty gritty details.

BIG MISTAKE! ...I had just invited the much dreaded conversation...right away my mother starts..."Connie, even your little sister has a boyfriend...you'd better get crackin' " ARGH! I only wish they knew how hard it is to find a decent 6'1", near-death caucasian male...but that's not the worst part...she says there will be absolutely no moving back home if I don't marry, and she even got my dad to side with her...means I will have to do my own laundry for the rest of my life...and spend eternity collecting quarters. Dad says as long as I don't think of moving home he'll provide me with a life-time supply of laundry quarters...mom says she'll even buy me a washing machine to keep me away. Even my parents, the people who are supposed to love you when nobody else will, and always be there welcoming you with open arms don't want me...how on earth do they suppose that I will find anyone!?!?!?

...well, single old and unloved...at least I'll have clean clothes!

FREEDOM FREEDOM.........SWEET SWEET FREEDOM!!!!!!!!!!!

...hm...no more studying...what do I do with myself now?

Me and my big sister



AHA!! Today is the day (as is every other day I guess) for me to be a bratty little sister and rub in my dearly beloved sister’s face that she is getting still older. And I can do this because she will be forever and ever my OLDER sister.

So yeah, Amy Happy Birthday…and thanks for all the fun; all the times we’ve laughed together, and those where I just laughed AT you. Thanks for the hugs and the fights, the good advice and occasional nagging. Thanks for always being there, putting up with all my strange ways and not being ashamed of being the sister of a complete weirdo.

Not good with all this sappiness, so I’ll stop here…so have yourself a blast Amy, coz geez…YOU IS OLD!!!!!

Suits, dresses, make-up, many happy memories and some sad goodbyes. A choice of roast beef, pasta or red snapper and 5 orders of bread. Piles of cameras, pens launched across the room, air-bourn packets of butter, a handful of annoyed dinner guests…and lots of love…Yup, you guessed it, what else but the ACF Annual Year-end Banquet.

We were the loudest table there...I blame Calvin for that. Shouldn’t have done so many crunches in the morning, laughed way too hard…can I say sore abs?
Steve wore a Buzz Light Year watch (actually my Buzz Light Year watch) and I wore a fitting black dress. Should have known better, dresses like that have no give.
Caleb came and sat at our table then left…we held his camera hostage, and much film was wasted on pictures of us with forks, coz Cal said “Let’s all hold forks in all our pictures”. I somehow ended up with one in my hair. I took many a picture of forks and other things…and the occasional person.
Roast beef was good. Kendrick was trying pretending that pasta was better, but he wasn’t fooling nobody…and the Carol said the shrimp with the red snapper was mushy…which proves my point; always go with the red meat.

Time to stand up and share about the year at ACF…So many people, so many experiences…Canaan is lost for words, I think he loves us too much. Ah the grads! Wendy…oh what fun times we had pigging out last year…Adorable Jessica will be far far away in Taiwan next year…Victor (that’s Mr Reeves to you) still doesn’t know where he’s going…Jesse…ah the pranks! And Canaan, dear motherly, “long-air”ed Canaan, what would I have done without you?

Camera flashes going off like crazy… Jesse and Rob picked up Alison…hahaha… group picture, all 50 of us, stick your head out!… Kendrick wants to be a girl?…OOOOO…Kendrick WITH all the girls, HE DA MAN! Let’s crash the guys’ picture…jump on them…AHHHH…I’m falling…

11:00pm…we’re getting kicked out…yet another year at ACF’s over…
*Sniffle sniffle sob sob* I'm gonna miss the grads…

Oh how I love you all!

For months my life revolved around one thing; six days of the week were there only for the sake of the coming of the seventh. I didn't particularly like that day or what it entailed; yet still it had control over my life. “So, what was that big day?” you might ask, well let me tell you. It’s none other than laundry day. Yes laundry, one thing you can avoided only if you can either afford to buy a new wardrobe every time you soil something, don’t mind smelling bad and having no friends, or live in a nudist colony. Since none of the above applied to me, laundry was, and still is inevitable.

Yet it was not the actual having to do laundry (as bad as that is on it’s own), but that fact that it costs $1.25 for the wash and at least 50c for the drying…all in quarters…i.e. 7 quarters per load, which adds up to 14 quarters for the two loads that need to be done weekly (and 21 for the weeks I wash the sheets).

At night I would plan the next day in my head. My days were mapped out so that I could obtain optimal amount of quarters. It governed how I got to school, what I ate for lunch, and everything else I did. I’d even make totally unnecessary purchases just to get quarters as change. One day I ordered a salad (and I HATE salad!!) just coz it would provide me with three quarters instead of the one that the chicken would as change. And as the pile of clothes in the laundry basket grew, so did the quarter’s grasp on my life… Ah…who could have guessed the power of one little nickel-plated steel coin.

Could he be the one???

Brian Lee: "Ronald is white... he could be 6'1"... and w/ that diet of his.........."

Well...I was thinking more of the Caucasian white...not clown make-up white. But thanks for the help Brian!...and I still luv ya Ronald =)