Friday, June 14, 2013

The wild mouse, and other things

Last I'd mentioned, there was a graduation in the offing.  Now it is over, and Thing 1 is out of HS for forever and ever, Amen.

Now he needs to get a dang job and start planning what he wants to or is going to do with the rest of his life.

I have been so much less melancholic about this than I thought.  What's the deal?  I thought I'd be all teary-eyed during the ceremony, but my ability to get teary was more than outweighed by my rage at the morons who didn't heed the words o' the principal and instead hooted and yelled when the names of their special snowflake was called to cross the podium.  Not even PRETENDING to have heard her entreaty for a dignified ceremony!  Pissed me right the heck off, especially when the morons right next to me did the yelling.

Now, 3 days later, I'm reliving the rage, and it I have to say it feels good.  Might be partially stuffed with a smidge of self-righteousness, but that's a mere accent compared with the rage.  Delicious!

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It's a good thing the Ex is a professional photographer, because the shots I got are worth nothing.  Someday I should learn how to use that fancy camera I got 2 Christmases ago.  What I'm getting out of it right now is mostly crap, and that's not exactly ideal.

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My mom is putting together a scrapbook for Thing 1 for his 18th birthday, and needed some more photos of him to fill out her picture collection.  So, we spent a little time digging through the tub full of them that live on a shelf in my bedroom.  OMG he was so CUTE as a little boy!!  And a little dusty, but that's more a function of my housekeeping than his cuteness.  Once we wiped down the pics there he was, shining like a wee cherub, towheaded and so cute!!  There are a couple of years of school pics from when he was in early grade school that are hilariously bad, and deserve to be framed.  Truly, the boy had to be taught how to smile for photos.  All those baby pics, the toddler yummy years, the young boy school years, so precious!

And boy oh boy how time does fly.  So glad we have the pics to remind us of the journey from shiny young human to this almost-man that is Thing 1 now.

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Now a note about how hermit-y I am: a group of folks from work are going to a local ale house for some bonding time and to get to know two new colleagues, and I'm steadfastly not going.  I abhor that kind of thing, for no good reason.  I'm a friendly person, but just really don't like the glad-handing and manufactured jollility that is the business cocktail hour.

If if you ever wondered why I'm not at the apex of corporate culture, I think you've found your answer.

You'll be glad to know that I AM going to a corporate-sponsored dinner next week. BECAUSE I HAVE TO.   Seems that the person managing interactions with outside vendors through a high-profile dossier compilation really needs to meet them if they're coming on-site for 2 days of meetings.  Imagine!

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I hope y'all have a faboo weekend.  I'm taking advantage of the rest of my business buddies being at the beer barn by now and am getting the heck out of Dodge.  Well, I'm the getting the heck INTO a Dodge, because that's what Jiminy is, but you know what I mean.  Time to hit the road!!

Tiff out.

5 comments:

Warped Mind of Ron said...

I went to my friend's daughters graduation last week and I wasn't sure what was happening behind me. Somebody could have been being murdered for all the hootin and hollering going on.

LL said...

So NOW you're doing what you're told by the principal? What the hell Tiffy... What. The. Hell.

the only daughter said...

My son's graduation from HS (& college--yikes) brings up similar memories. What is it with folks who feel soooo entitled that they can ruin other folks experiences. The hooting, hollering...that is what your own private party is for... okay, struck a nerve here. I'll stop now.

I. detest. forced. work. fake. social. events. Another nerve, I'll leave it there.

Anonymous said...

Both of my kids had their graduation at the concert pavilion that was the site for the US festival in the early 80's. You think you're mad, every time a brown snowflake got their name called, half a busload of missed deportation opportunities would blow air horns (think emergency boating equipment). 3-4 kids would walk before the noise died down, and if your kid was one of the unfortunate, tough titty gringo...

tiff said...

Anon - I do hope that not as biased as you appear, but can appreciate the high degree of irritation that such blatant and selfish celebration can cause.