FINALLY posting this after being shut out of blogger all day. GRRRR...
I don't get out much, friends. But when I do I seem to find the freaks.
The other night I went to a Suzuki violin school parent orientation. The man leading the meeting had a big ol' Tom Selleck moustache. So let's just start there for Glamour Don'ts. He shakes my hand, and only then does it become clear to me that he is so sick with a head cold that he really should have begged off the meeting and sent a colleague. So I'm immediately grossed out that I've touched him. He then proceeds to conduct the meeting while doing that sniff/snort/booger thing that people with bad colds do in order to breathe and talk. So I'm listening while trying to block out the boogsnarf noise when I notice that he has snot coming out of his nose, only because it's landing on--and sliding down--his prodigious pornstache, he is blissfully unaware of the situation. At this point I can barely contain my gag reflex and I am mentally devising an escape route, but there IS no escape route. I'm stuck. He yammers on for AN HOUR about Suzuki piano and his kids and how he teaches his students and the beauty and mystery of Dr. Suzuki, which of course is meaningless to me, and then asks finally, "So, any questions?" Um, yeah: Pretty much all of the questions I was told this session would answer! So the final result was that I spent an hour watching gelatinous snot drip from a drip, learned zip...and thought "Oh sh*t!" when I found out the tuition chit. So, the bad news is that there will be no Suzuki lessons for Bambina, the good news is that when we pay off our house and cars in 20 years and can pay for lessons, I won't have to go back to the orientation. Freak.
Then I'm at a mother-daughter event where there are a couple of other families with kids adopted internationally. Now, contrary to popular practice, I don't rush over to such families any more than I'd rush over to any other group of strangers. Mostly because, well, that's weird, "Hey! Your kid is Chinese! So is mine! Wanna be friends?!" Weird. Second, my child hates being singled out for being different from me, so I make a real effort to not visit that upon someone else's kid. But there's always someone who does. One lady, who adopted her daughters from Cambodia, said loudly in a group of other moms to whom I'd been chatting, "I notice that you have a beautiful Asian daughter too. Were is she from?" China. "Oh mine are from Cambodia. Can you believe how ridiculous the process is? Oh my god!.." And then proceeds to complain about the wait, the paperwork, the drama. I did offer that our process has been a little bit long, but not because of China entirely, that a lot of the holdup has been on the US side and that I'm sure the processes were completely different since they are different countries. But I was just so very uncomfortable with her airing her issues with the process in front of total strangers (including me). I mean, this is how you became your children's mother. What are you saying? I never want my kids to think that the process of becoming their mother made me angry or bitter or pissed in any way. What does that communicate to your child about her if you do? So I spent the next 45 minutes trying to change the subject, to get her to say something positive, and to pretty much stop including me in a discussion of which I wanted no part. Freak.
Then I'm at Whole Foods (yeah, I know I'm on record as despising Whole Paycheck, but they are the only place that carries Culturelle--and girlfriend needs her daily triple dose of intestinal flora since last month's unfortunate Stomach Virus Incident), and I go to the Express Lane, where there is a lovely senior citizen manning the checkout. He's darling, but he is S-L-O-W. I literally have ONE item. One. With a coupon. Well, now it's drama because he can't get the scanner to read the printed barcode. "Is this coupon off the computer?" Yes. (Because who buys a Sunday paper anymore?) "I can't scan it." Why? "It won't scan." Can you try the handheld scanner? "That won't work." Can you try it? Meanwhile he's trying to read the fine print on the coupon, for what reason I know not. Finally another worker comes over to bag and sees the line getting longer and longer, so she grabs the handheld and--voila!--coupon scans (of course). Best part? As I leave, he is STILL reading the coupon! Freak.