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Everything is business. Woke up around five to clear skies and barking sea lions - apparently some fishing boat had just come in to the commercial wharf. Foolish pinnipeds! Lacking opposable thumbs, they were unable to develop capitalism and so must resort to begging for fish, an evolutionarily unsustainable strategy. Nature sharp of tooth and claw! Ah-hah-hah-ha!
I have been working like a madwoman, trying to prep for the county fair and the final weeks of summer, trying to scrape together the (gulp!) $8,000 I need to chip in to augment Max's scholarship for his senior year at RLS. See, I am the stupidest woman on the planet. When I divorced Max's father, I didn't ask for child support. It seemed ignoble somehow. Instead I asked Bill to fly Max down to southern California one long weekend per month so that they could continue to have a real father-son relationship, something that was more substantiative that phone parenting. Didn't work out that way though. Bill certainly hasn't volunteered to carry his share of the bills, and furthermore seems to have conveniently forgotten the verbal contract we had that once I had fostered Max safely through high school, he would foot the college bills. When Max was down visiting recently, they had a long discussion about community college.
Of course, there's nothing wrong with community college. Except that I'm a snob. And except that I want Max to have every option in the world open to him at this point, because soon enough the options are going to narrow. By the time Max is my age, the world is going to be a very circumscribed and unhappy place, the new Dark Age ushered in under the various pretexts of Homeland Security. I want him to be part of the decision-making class before that happens because there ain't gonna be much class-hopping after that.
I don't recommend divorcing without legal counsel. You won't know what your own interests are until ten years down the line.
Meanwhile, we are pursuing scholarship opportunities. He's already gotten one - a small one, but hey! A thousand bucks here, a thousand bucks there, and pretty soon you're talking about real money.
In other news, being someone with exceptionally weak ego boundaries, I have this thing when I go into places like Walmart and Office Depot - which I have had to do a lot over the past couple of days - where I zoom inside the employees' skulls. Suddenly I work at Walmart! I spend the majority of my waking hours in this huge, drafty bunkhouse, lit by twitching fluorescent tubes, the odors of Lysol and auto parts making me gag. I wear a blue vest: How Can I Serve You? The Happy Face is the Mona Lisa on my walls.
It's a truly disheartening reality.
I have been working like a madwoman, trying to prep for the county fair and the final weeks of summer, trying to scrape together the (gulp!) $8,000 I need to chip in to augment Max's scholarship for his senior year at RLS. See, I am the stupidest woman on the planet. When I divorced Max's father, I didn't ask for child support. It seemed ignoble somehow. Instead I asked Bill to fly Max down to southern California one long weekend per month so that they could continue to have a real father-son relationship, something that was more substantiative that phone parenting. Didn't work out that way though. Bill certainly hasn't volunteered to carry his share of the bills, and furthermore seems to have conveniently forgotten the verbal contract we had that once I had fostered Max safely through high school, he would foot the college bills. When Max was down visiting recently, they had a long discussion about community college.
Of course, there's nothing wrong with community college. Except that I'm a snob. And except that I want Max to have every option in the world open to him at this point, because soon enough the options are going to narrow. By the time Max is my age, the world is going to be a very circumscribed and unhappy place, the new Dark Age ushered in under the various pretexts of Homeland Security. I want him to be part of the decision-making class before that happens because there ain't gonna be much class-hopping after that.
I don't recommend divorcing without legal counsel. You won't know what your own interests are until ten years down the line.
Meanwhile, we are pursuing scholarship opportunities. He's already gotten one - a small one, but hey! A thousand bucks here, a thousand bucks there, and pretty soon you're talking about real money.
In other news, being someone with exceptionally weak ego boundaries, I have this thing when I go into places like Walmart and Office Depot - which I have had to do a lot over the past couple of days - where I zoom inside the employees' skulls. Suddenly I work at Walmart! I spend the majority of my waking hours in this huge, drafty bunkhouse, lit by twitching fluorescent tubes, the odors of Lysol and auto parts making me gag. I wear a blue vest: How Can I Serve You? The Happy Face is the Mona Lisa on my walls.
It's a truly disheartening reality.
