How Things Are Going
2009-07-01, 2:10 a.m.

So, I�m working nowadays at school as an assistant to a precious girl with CP. I write down her answers, help her get out her materials, and assign points earned when she mows down kids who think it�s perfectly fine to step out in front of her land yacht wheelchair. 5 points for an ankle graze, 10 for a standard-grade impalement. Teachers aren�t immune, either; they�re worth 30 points since they REALLY ought to know better. Here�s a tip: When it comes to human middle schoolers vs. a 300-lb street-cred wheelchair, the wheelchair WILL win. And the girl and I will continue to keep tabs on these, the potential future Darwin Award winners. It�s a long list.

7th grade was a lot of fun. I am looking forward to 8th. It�s quite amusing to tell people, when they ask what I do, �I�m in middle school.�

One of the perks of being duly employed is having insurance, subcategory of which is free counseling. A captive audience to whom I can bitch, bitch, bitch, and it�s FREE? Color me there. I went. I laid it all out there. I found out such nifty things as 1) I am completely normal, 2) I am not like my mother, and 3) if I were, they make a pill for that. I proudly told my kids her pronouncement. In a moment of rare solidarity they decided that the counselor obviously doesn�t know Jack and to please get the pill.

Ingrates.

That just gives me something else to glower about at my next appointment.

I may take my dog next time, since she�s in serious need. As I type, my so-called guard dog is sitting on my toes, desperate to be protected from the thunder outside. Geez, I feel safe. Should have known we�d have a storm tonight, since the not-so-aptly-named 1ntellic@st predicted clear skies and no precipitation. Instead, here I am, protecting the pooch, and for some reason I think it really ought to be the other way around. I made the mistake of watching a little bit of some cheesy horror movie on tv over the weekend so now a red-eyed sasquatch hybrid is staring at me from every darkened doorway. Nice to know my dog would shove me in its path as a tasty morsel while she makes her getaway.

I�ll remember this when it�s treat-buying time.

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