She’s already having to turn down applications from people with professional nanny qualifications. I somehow think maybe she’s already at the price point that works for her. But the 12-y.o. babysitters who will do it aren’t qualified, and the ones who are qualified are too expensive.
If there’s some level of worker that would be appropriate to hire at her price point (or a nominally higher one), and are qualified to do what she needs, I suspect they would have been applying along with the nannies. In fact, from the fact that nannies are applying at all, I suspect she hasn’t posted how much money she’s offering.
Well, I fucked up. My Mom joined Facebook the other day and somehow her page showed her a post I wrote last year that pretty emphatically described the ways in which my childhood sucked. It was pretty brutal. It was my one hope that she would never understand just how deeply my childhood affected me. She handled it probably more maturely than I would have… just a sort of “WTF?” e-mail this morning. I tried to explain and apologized like four times, and she hasn’t disowned me or anything, but I know she was hurt by it. She hasn’t contacted me since this morning, so I guess she wants some space right now.
I know it’s messed up, but I always have wanted to protect her. If I think for some reason she could be suffering, it kills me, and I have just been worrying about her all day. I love her a lot. I’m sorry that I hurt her.
Yesterday I learned that the Angels probably own some Hampton Inns because it took me almost an hour to figure out that the Hampton Inn & Suites of Los Alamos is in White Rock. It’s not so much the time as the 800 feet less of acclimitization I got last night as Los Alamos is on top of a pretty big hill.
Did you miss the part where she’d already tried to talk to her mom and apologise and explain, and mom’s not talking back right now? There’s a point where no matter how much you explain and apologise, the other person is hurt and doesn’t want to hear it right at that second.
I know that Spike knows where the rodent bottles are, because he must be rubbing against the tubes and rolling in the litterbox. I just spent 20 minutes picking concrete out of his fur. I have no idea how Spike survived until he showed up at my feeder. Broken jaw, starving because he couldn’t close his mouth lest one of his offset fangs pierced the roof of his mouth and brain dead because of neuro damage.
Of course, I don’t know how Lucky, the front declawed, half of his mouth shot off cat, survived either.
Speaking of motorcycles. some asshole parked a beautiful Harley Davidson motorcycle in the handicapped parking at the movie theater down the road; parked it on the space between the parking space in a way that is going to send the bike crashing to the ground or be towed to the county impound lot.
I didn’t take a picture but the Harley was parked on the blue slashing lines between the parking spaces in between us and a full sized van. These were recently painted lines too, so it can’t be said that the parking spaces are not delineated properly.
Such a beautiful machine too, blue, chrome, black and steel. Some people may think Harleys are overrated or overpriced, and that’s fine.
I was thinking that it was a sad, pitiful, fucking waste that a fine machine like that belonged to such a schmuck, a loser, a moron who didn’t appreciate a nice bike enough to park it properly.
I’m leaning the same way. She was hurt by learning how bad your childhood was because of her actions? I think it goes back to her - if she had been a better mother, you would have had a better childhood. I don’t see where you need to apologize for telling the truth, olives, even if you never meant for her to see it.
In a lot of the world, there is no such thing as “a random neighbor kid”; any kid within view is the responsability of any adult or older child within view.
I love most of my customers, but yesterday a lady got all pissy because we refused to honor a $40.00 gift certificate that was expired,** and not for our restaurant**!
I would not suggest you do that around me. “It takes a village” is nice in the abstract but in reality the guy in the next hut could be some asshole that I don’t want to even look at my kid.
OK so you take just about the busiest chunk of real estate in the world. You clean it up and bring in big business. You make it all pretty for the tourists. You encourage as many people as possible to walk the streets. Then you make it nearly impossible to find a restroom. I must have looked suspicious sprinting across Times Square but that McDonalds looked like the only place I could go pee. And it only had one toilet. And a line. FU NY
Well, everything turned out okay. She called me last night to tell me she loves me. It wasn’t what I said, but the fact that I said it publicly (I don’t usually post things that personal on Facebook… it was actually for a messaging assignment I did last year, and the whole purpose was to explain why I care so much about undocumented immigrants. My experience as an emancipated minor is one of the biggest things that led me down that path.) She said it was embarrassing just having people know about things she’s done at her worst, because she is trying to move on now. I can understand that. She also said she understood where I was coming from and she was proud of me. She really is a totally different person than the one who raised me. I went to bed feeling pretty lucky to have her as a Mom.
Yeah, I understand. Apparently tourists and shoppers are required to have hardcore bladders or something. :rolleyes: I loved finding coin-op public potties in Rome the last time I went there (way too long ago).
