I'm going to name my next child Hadley Baxendale

Cutesey quote from Daniel on the way back home yesterday:

"How was your day, Daniel?"

"Well. The worst thing that happened today? Christopher James Rae lied to me. My own father! Can you believe that?!"

I had to compose myself before asking him what he meant by that. He was just so dramatic :)

Turned out it was a misunderstanding - Chris had told him his snowpants were in his backpack, but I'd forgotten to put them in.

****

And it's funny the things you end up discussing with your children. We were in the car yesterday, listening to Gerry O'Kane singing Irish ditties. And we listened to Johnny Be Fair, and somehow end up talking about the meaning of "taboo", genetics, infidelity, tricks, and revenge.

( How did we get there? )

****

So... exam starts in 30 min. I've got a double dose of caffeine in me, so I should be able to get through it without falling asleep.

On today's agenda:
( ZZZZzzzz... )

One Down

Done the exam. ::shrug:: Meh.

Not a good sign when you have to keep reminding yourself, as you're writing, "This is a 50% exam. This is important. You've only got two hours to do this. Wake UP! 50%!!"

Could somebody answer this for me, because I've been wondering for about 20 years?

Why, after an exam is written and there is absolutely nothing you can do about your mark, do so many people feel compelled to talk about it? And discover that they answered something wrong? And freak out about it?

I mean... you're DONE. You're FREE. Of this subject, at least. Until the next terms begins. WHY do this to yourself?

Families

Families. I could cheerfully strangle mine, if I weren't feeling rather apathetic about everything right about now. I think the two glasses of wine help too. I'm a cheap drunk ;)

So. Nicholas (my brother) arrives unexpectedly Tuesday. I've got this exam Friday, right? So Justin and I take him to do some paperwork he needs to do Wednesday, then I put Justin down to nap while I study, then have Nicholas over for dinner Wednesday night. He says he'll be in Ottawa for a week.

Thursday I've got Justin's last French class, then more studying, then Chris has the boys at night while I study some more. I don't call Nicholas, because, after all, it's the day before my 50% midterm.

Today I do my 50% midterm in the morning, then go see Karen, who has Issues with her wedding and unemployment, then go see GyneGuy. Who puts me on some other hormone and I don't really want to think about the rest but suffice it to say I have Issues too.

Anyway. Put on a happy face, call my mom, I'm emotionally and mentally a little (or a lot) exhausted but what the hell. Nicholas is only here for a week, so I figure I'll call my mom and maybe she and Guy can bring Nicholas here tonight and then tomorrow we'll do stuff together. Family stuff. My brothers live in Greece; I only see them about every three years or so.

Mom's at work. No problem. We'll get together tomorrow, I think.

Mom calls me from work. And in the course of our conversation, she reveals that Nicholas is leaving tomorrow. In the morning. His mom's been calling non-stop, and has decided to bring him home right away.

So. Telling my boys, Don't worry, you'll see Uncle Nick again, just not today? Don't worry, he's here for a whole week, we'll see him tomorrow? I know you really liked him, relax, you'll see him again?

So much for that.

And I can't help thinking that, knowing Angeliki (his mom) the problem is that we're just not showing Nicholas enough hospitality. Despite the fact that she dropped him on us in the middle of EXAMS and that my mother has to WORK and all that other stuff... we're just not being accomodating to her or her son.

And it would really be nice if for once in her life she actually asked, and LISTENED TO US, before sending him over. Because she invariably picks the very, very, very worst times for this kind of thing, and then gets offended or hurt when things don't go so well. The last time was two months after Chris' accident, right when he was going back to work. A fine time to get one 15- and one 13-year old boy dropped into our laps, when my own were 4 and 1 and their father had only recently been let out of a brain injury rehab hospital. No pressure at all. My mom ended up taking them for the bulk of their stay, because I just couldn't handle them.

Anyway. Wine is good. Makes this only slightly annoying, instead of infuriating.

Dialectical Memetasm

From sangerin: ( fanfic dialect meme )

Gakked from kaylarudbek: ( In high school I thought of going into Linguistics: )