That among the amusingly named foods that are commonly eaten in the United Kingdom is something called ploughman's pickle? I did not make this up. (It was on the ethnic food shelf in my local A&P next to the canned spotted dick. I didn't make that up, either, but I haven't a clue what it is.) Anyway, the p.p. is a kind of a sweet, tangy relish, and here's the meal: you spread it on a slice of bread, spread another slice with mayonaisse, and put a couple of slices of cheddar cheese in between to make a sandwich. I'm not even creative enough to have made that up. Anyway, it's good, and I'm having a sandwich for dinner. R just called and said she's coming home from work early since she thinks she's sick, and she works serving food, so that sounds like a good idea. She's off the next two days, so hopefully she'll be fine by the time she has to go back on Friday.
My meeting with the Crazy Girl at work did not take place today, because I think the true speciality of Bizarro World High School is getting people all psyched up for intense meetings that are then cancelled, or postponed until all relevant parties have retired. Boo hiss. I've decided not to care anymore; I've certainly devoted too much energy to it already. I heard today that Crazy Girl went off on another colleague last week, this time in the faculty room, and this the absolute sweetest, gentlest person in the world. I expect karma to bite Crazy Girl on the ass any day now, if not instantly.
Anyway, I need to direct any and all negative energy I can muster towards the post office. God, I hate the post office, and I wish my children would just stay in the United States, thank you very much. I believe that when a postal worker sees that I am on line holding a package, they change all the overseas mailing rules right then and there, at least until I have had my breakdown and then left, at which time they change them back. Today they made me put the package into an envelope, which they gave me, on which I had to re-write K's horrible long address, in German of course, as well as all the information, in German of course, that I have very carefully typed onto labels so that I never ever have to write anything in German ever. But I did today, and smilingly handed over $15 to send the kid a bag of candy corn and a jar of macadamia nuts. Now if she were in D.C., where she belongs, she could drop by the CVS and buy her own candy corn, and she could tape her own TV shows (or watch them), and best of all, she would be home for Thanksgiving and I could just hand her the jar of nuts, the way I'm supposed to. And the last package I sent never got there, because customs seems to have thought that there was something suspicious about the Clinique bonus, not to mention the straightening balm (for brunettes.) I hate the post office.
I hear the door. Kid's home. Time to fire up the chicken soup.
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I'm watching The Simpsons
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Sweet Sorrow - 06.12.2007
So ... - 12.19.2006
Christmastime Is Near - 12.18.2006
Fifteen Years - 12.17.2006
A Message From Our Sponsor - 12.16.2006
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