Ceeeeelebration time, redux

Here’s what I did today. I appear, in this post, to switch back and forth between present and past tense. I don’t know why I do this, and I don’t care. I just don’t want you to think I’m not aware of it.

7:30 AM: Woke up after a largely sleepless night, in spite of my having taken my pill at about 9:30 PM. Hoped BFFR remembered to have me in mind when she said chonen ha-da’at,  like I asked her to (I attribute all of my academic successes in high school and college to my having had extra kavannah during chonen ha-da’at on test days). Got dressed, etc.; ate three tuna melts for breakfast (usually I have six, but there was no time ) (under normal, non-pregnant circumstances, by the way, I HATE tuna melts); left with girls at about 8:30. Offered to let any of the girls, including the two carpool girls, take my exam for me, since the department administrator will be delivering it, and he has never met me before. Why didn’t I think of this sooner? I could have paid someone off! Someone who already has a master’s degree! YS immediately offers to take it, and says, by way of justification, “I’ve read 23 books.” This is just about all my kids know about this exam — that I was supposed to read 23 books. Heh. Apparently, any 23 will do.

9:15 AM: Dropped girls off at camp. Texted G that I chose to listen to a particular CD in the car because one of the individuals on it resembles my dearly beloved professor, and I figure it may bring some good karma. You know, just in case chonen ha-da’at fails me. G apparently never realized that they look alike, and was somewhat startled by the discovery (if you know my professor and you want to hear who I listened to, feel free to email me ). Proceeded to drive to Manhattan.

10:30 AM: Texted G the following: “Please find me nearest Dunkin Donuts. Coolatta needed badly.” G responds with a very nearby address (thank God!). Park car in old familiar lot, waddle two short blocks to Dunkin Donuts, purchase large (large) strawberry Coolatta, waddle back down the street drinking it, feeling thoroughly embarrassed by how huge and bright red it is, and by how huge (though not bright red) I am.

10:50 AM: Arrive in my former academic department. Gaze around fondly at everything, including the soft mushy gray couch that was new when I arrived in 1998. Wonder if that couch has ever been cleaned. Heh. Introduce myself to new department administrator (too late now; I’m going to have to do this myself after all), who sets me up in an empty office and hands me… my MA exam.

*cue dramatic music*

11:00 AM: Begin MA exam. Spend the next several hours drinking huge, bright red Coolatta while typing essays on computer. This is very exciting; I had assumed I was going to have to hand write them (shudder) in stupid blue books. The questions are laughably obvious. Imagine if someone told you to study Christie Brinkley’s biography, and then the questions they ask you are “What color is Christie Brinkley’s hair?” and “To which rock star was Christie Brinkley married?” See? Obvious. Although, while it is very likely that I could have answered these questions satisfactorily even before the limited studying I actually did, it is also quite clear that the studying helped. I find myself incorporating many things into my answers that I would not have thought to include if I hadn’t studied.

2:00 PM: Email completed exam to department administrator. Waddle back to parking lot while on the phone with G. Retrieve car. Realize there is no time to go home before pickup time at camp. Drive to camp while eating remaining three tuna melts (G packed them in foil for me ) (of course I had to scrape the cheese off the foil, but no big deal), munching on big bag of Kix cereal, and finishing Coolatta. Text G that Coolattas are not very good when melted and warm. Arrive at camp around 3:05. This is 40 minutes early. I sit in the car with the motor running (need the AC, see) and respond to emails on my phone while continuing to munch on Kix.

4:30 PM: Arrive home with girls. Waddle upstairs to change out of sweaty uncomfortable clothing. Adrenaline rush that has apparently gotten me through this day abruptly disappears and I crash onto my bed, feeling like roadkill.

4:50 PM: Phone makes “new email” sound (actually, it’s the same as the text message sound, the IM sound, and the voice mail sound. I have not yet figured out how to change this). I look at my email and see that I have been cc’ed on an email my professor sent to the department administrator. Email reads as follows:

Miriam passed her exam.

Well, that was quick. I forward the email to G, and proceed to hide under my blanket. This is what I often do when there is good news that I don’t know how to deal with (also, I still felt like roadkill).

So, there you have it. Miriam passed her exam. Remember how I said last July that I was going to get my MA (after only twelve short years) (heh) in January, because I’d passed my French exam? Then remember how I found out that contrary to what I’d been told, I also had to take a comp exam? Well, I took it. Apparently my gamble on my former knowledge, my writing ability, and my nice professor, combined with the small amount of studying I actually did, paid off. So now, all I have to do is wade through several miles of godawful paperwork, and maybe, some day, I’ll have a few (more) letters after my name.

Yay, me.

We leave for our trip on Sunday. We’re hoping to leave before lunch, which presumably means we’ll leave around 8:00 PM. Heh. I’m both excited and apprehensive about this trip. Here’s hoping it goes well. I hope to post from the road, as I did last year.

Speaking of last year, tonight and tomorrow are the first yahrtzeit of G’s beloved cousin. Yeah. There’s something to write about. May her memory continue to be a blessing.

Yesterday some lovely and wonderful old friends who are visiting from Israel stopped by with pizza, and with their four children — one of whom has been corresponding with RS over email, and two of whom are seven year-old boys who were absolutely wonderful to my wide-eyed, adoring son (the fourth is an adorable four year-old girl with the cutest, blackest curls you have ever seen). It was noisy and terrific in every way.

Tuesday was not a great day, because my baby siSter and her family left us and went hopping off to their new house in Cleveland.  Adjustments, anyone? I haven’t yet tried to explain this to the Boy, who fully expects to see all of them any day now, and has asked for them more than once, as is his usual habit. Sucks.

My father is not, for the moment, having surgery. Apparently they’d do the surgery “if he were young and strong.” I beg your pardon. Who’s calling my father not young and strong?? But instead, they’re giving him yet more antibiotics and such of that sort. There appears to be a bunch of stuff festering inside his ear, see, that doesn’t necessarily belong there. We can now all add that to the list of things we don’t want to think about (no, it is not cancer, just stuff. Icky stuff).

My grandmother has moved to assisted living. Speaking of things we don’t want to think about. It’s about time I penetrated my denial and called her already. I don’t think I’ve gone this long without calling her since I was in college. It’s completely unnatural. It’s just that every time I try to call her, I have what approaches a full-fledged panic attack. But I’m going to have to do it anyway, if for no other reason than that we plan to visit her on Sunday, and she really ought to know about it first.

Elaine (Babysitter Allison’s mother) already had surgery, which appears to have been successful, but just for fun, they started pumping her full of chemo today anyway. This will go on for some time. If anyone wants to whisk Babysitter Allison off to Bermuda for the entire month of December, don’t be shy. Assuming she makes it that far, she’s going to really, really need it. (P.S. She will make it that far, and farther, because that’s how she is, but still: Bermuda.)

After my third email which repeated, in bold type, a question that I’ve been asking for over a month (that question being, whom do I contact regarding Dumb Board of Ed Form #2), the big fat Dept of Education moron finally responded and told me who to contact (if that’s supposed to be “whom,” I don’t want to know). To be fair, it’s understandable that it took him so long to respond; after all, he did have to give me somebody’s name. Their first name and their last name. I mean, really; does the guy look like he’s made of time? So I got the name. Next step: Calling all three of these maniacs in early August, like they told me to. And God help us all if they don’t do the jobs for which they get paid, and send me what I need in time for all of R’s services to start on the FIRST day of school. I’m going to bulldog them all into oblivion. You’ll see. (so will I)

I think that’s all. My pill is totally kicking in. Mmmm. Roadkill notwithstanding, this was overall a fairly positive day.

Tags: Dept of Ed, Friends, Kids, Pregnancy, Relatives