Life Among the Never-Winged

Once upon a time I was writing a book called, "Just Another Love Letter", about angels behaving badly. Now I just quietly ask myself each day, "What the hell am I doing?"

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Location: The Rocky Mountain Empire, United States

My friends always knew I was going to hell. My only hope is that God likes good jokes and bad redheads.

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  • Thursday, August 24, 2006

    My Homework Ate my RockyGrass Post



    Well, it feels like homework. Homework that is done anywhere but home. Homework that is done in order to get the boyos into school so that they may begin their long and glorious career of doing homework.

    School admissions. Peh. I'm exhausted.
    So, I went to the Health Dept. two days ago to get birth certificates, and everyone drooled over the boyos (poor me *hand to forehead* can't go anywhere without people telling me how beautiful my children are). The secretary printed them out, no prob -- but the problem was, they spelled Owen's name 'Ownen.' So. I had to fill out two forms for them to submit to the hospital, and then contact the hospital to tell them that the forms had been submitted and could they please make the changes and then send them back to the Health Dept. where I could pick them up again. *breath*
    Fine.
    So then I went on to the Ped's office to pick up the immunization forms, and since it's right next to the hospital in question, I asked the receptionist where I needed to go to do the above thingy, and she made a phone call and then told me I'd have to contact the Arapahoe County Court to authorize the change. *breath* *sigh*
    So I crossed my fingers, hoping nobody down at the ole' sign-em-up-for-school-place-thingy would pay close enough attention to the birth certificates, at least until I could get it all straightened out.
    So. Next stop, an elementary school IN ANOTHER TOWN where I was told to bring the birth certificates, SS cards, proof of residency, deed to house, my birth certificate and the contract with the Devil that I signed in my own blood just to get them INTO school. The mouth-breather there asked if I had their registration forms.
    “No. I mailed them in weeks ago, like I was told to do.”
    "Oh. Lemmee check."
    Shuffle shuffle
    "Not here. Lemmee ask someone in back."
    shuffle shuffle, on feet this time
    "They don't have it back there. But I remember seeing it up here. Lemmee look."
    Shuffle shuffle.
    "Yeah. Right here."
    GAA!
    So, she then handed me two forms, one which needed to be signed by the boyos’ physician (WHERE did I just come from?!?!) and told me I needed to go to ANOTHER school in ANOTHER town and turn in THOSE forms along with the birth certificates, SS cards, proof of residency, deed to house, my birth certificate and the contract with the Devil that I was told I needed with me that day. *breath*

    Then, mouth-breather asked me if so-and-so mentioned that they don't like to put twins into the same class.
    "No. She didn't."
    "Well. They don't like to."
    "Oh. That's interesting." Stare.
    "Lemmee go check in the back if it's ok."
    "Ok."
    Shuffle shuffle
    "Yeah. It's ok. But they don't like to do it."
    "Oh. Ok."
    "Because they don't develop their own personalities."
    "Heh. Well, these two certainly have."
    Blink blink

    For all I know, 'they' in the back were a couple of Qwuipee dolls dressed in voodoo masks and tiny Reeboks, and their answers were determined by a Magic Eight Ball.

    *Breath. Breath.* The universe is expanding...the universe is expanding... *breath*

    It continued the next day. I took the new form that I drove 30 miles to pick up, to the Admissions office which is five minutes from my house (haven’t these people ever heard of EMAIL!?! Couldn’t they have emailed the info to the Admissions office!?) and was told to pick a number.

    I looked around. There was one other person, and three women behind desks to assist us masses. So I sat down, and watched the boyos play with the convenient play-table-thingy and waited. And waited. And watched the desk-people talk. And waited. And finally someone told me to fill out forms A, C and D which I could select from a wall of forms lettered A-ZZ. So I did, and I decided that form D didn’t actually pertain to me, and I was missing one bit of information anyway, so I skipped it.

    When I finished, I looked up and realized my boyos and I were ALONE. All the pretty desk-people had gone away. We’d been there for 45 minutes.

    So I had three choices.
    One; run home crying, determined to home-school the young-uns. Ugh.
    Two: Mouth-breathe until someone came back.
    Three: laugh at the absurdity of it all, and take notes for the book. I chose option three.

    See, my concept of heaven is that it is a giant bureaucracy (among the things) and that it takes AGES and a gazillion forms to actually get through the Pearly Gates. So, I was staring at prime resource material.

    I whipped out my notebook and started jotting down notes. Sure as washing your car brings the rain, one of the desk-people appeared and told me she could help me now. I carried two reams of forms (twins, remember?) up to the desk and sat down. My desk-lady vanished. Poof! Right before my eyes. So I snickered and scribbled and sketched her into a harried angel, and Poof! she came back and apologized.

    “I’m sorry…my supervisor…”
    I smiled and nodded, leaned over the desk and stage-whispered, “We could get so much more accomplished without supervisors, couldn’t we?”
    She smiled. She laughed.
    We understood each other perfectly.
    “Oh! They spelled your husband’s name wrong on the birth certificates.”
    “Oh, I know! I told him it would be easier just to change his name.”
    “Ha! Well, here you go; they’re in the system. And aren’t they cute? And smart?”
    “Thank you.”

    Jack was doing the pee-pee dance, so I asked my helpful, angelic desk-lady where I could find a restroom, and she pointed down a long hallway, that, dreamlike, was lined with various classrooms, some in session, others empty. Returning down the hallway, Jack decided to complain rather loudly about going back home.
    A white-haired woman (not kidding, Dear Manuscript Readers) popped out of one of the classrooms, and I apologized for the disturbance.
    “Oh, no, not at all. Are they…twins?”
    “Yes, yes they are.”
    "Well, bless your heart.”
    “Hee hee…thanks.”
    “You know, there’s a special place in heaven for mothers of twins.”
    *snort* “Oh, I’m already there, believe me.”

    Thus endith the quest for admissions.


    Orientation today. Somebody hold my hand?

    Oh! And I finished ANOTHER CHAPTER! Woot! Sorry Readers; it’s further in the book, so no updates.

    18 people left me a love letter:

    Anonymous O wrote in a love letter...

    I find a wonderful irony in the fact that after all the fertility problems and inseminations and assorted other unpleasantries to get the boyos here in the first place, some low level bureaucrat spelled my name Ownen (presumably to be pronounced Onan, al a the masturbator cursed by God in the Bible). Ha ha.
    It's amazing that anyone gets an education at all, between the BS to enroll and our disastrous Prussian school system.
    O

    2:08 PM, August 24, 2006  
    Blogger Dantares wrote in a love letter...

    I'm working in an IT department which has the largest stationary budget in the hospital.
    It'll never work. But we can dream.
    Dantares.

    3:48 PM, August 24, 2006  
    Blogger amusing wrote in a love letter...

    I always thought there was the school equivalent of a dogcatcher if you didn't go to school? This sounds like they don't actually want people to turn up!

    [Beauracracy to get into heaven: see "Beetlejuice"]

    6:25 PM, August 24, 2006  
    Anonymous clowncar wrote in a love letter...

    Is the new chapter based on your observations of the soulless beaurocratic zombie mind at work?

    Oops, didn't mean to scare you by bringing up zombies.

    9:35 PM, August 24, 2006  
    Blogger Lisa wrote in a love letter...

    Absolutely
    and insanely
    ridiculous.

    don't you love it when people try to tell you about twins?? So they develop their own personalities. Eff Off, mouthbreathers!

    Kudos on the chapter!!

    11:52 PM, August 24, 2006  
    Blogger Nixxie wrote in a love letter...

    *finally I can post a reply....damn blogger*

    what? No DNA tests?

    5:42 PM, August 25, 2006  
    Blogger Nancy Dancehall wrote in a love letter...

    O: I thought it was pretty funny too.

    Dantares: Is THAT where you get the stationary for Rusonia's letters?

    Amusing: There is one, actually. Came for my brother once. Once.
    I'll have to watch Beetlejuice again. But I bet there's no Famous Heaven, is there? Heh.

    Clowncar: Zombies!?!? Where!?!?
    Nope; new chapter's all about VisionMom.

    Lisa: Isn't it? I can't believe they are separating yours! Figures. Let me know how it goes.

    Nixxie: Oh, they took the DNA from the blood ink I used to sign everything.

    *snort* Word verification's pucypan. Say it out loud. It's funny.

    8:31 PM, August 25, 2006  
    Blogger Des_Moines_Girl wrote in a love letter...

    The great thing about being a writer is that every experience (good or bad) can be used as writing material.

    How did orientation go? Hang in there mom!

    8:48 AM, August 26, 2006  
    Blogger The Laughing Frog wrote in a love letter...

    That makes a trip to the DMV seem like a cakewalk by comparison. And I thought the DMV people were small-minded drones who enjoy making people miserable simply because they can.

    12:23 PM, August 26, 2006  
    Blogger Dantares wrote in a love letter...

    'Pon my soul! what? Hah! My dear Nancy I must protest! My correspondance with Rusonia is written on an admittedly eclectic variety of papers. Swedish, French and Italian frequent my desk. Mostly it has been French, as I save the Italian for the most important of missives. The Swedish is workmanlike and useful.
    Having thought about it a letter headed "NHS correspondance (the opinion of the writer may not reflect...blah blah blah" is an interesting idea.
    Dantares.

    1:49 PM, August 26, 2006  
    Blogger Nancy Dancehall wrote in a love letter...

    :-) There you go! Just be careful what kind of love letter you write. Those things get people in trouble.

    1:59 PM, August 26, 2006  
    Blogger Popeye wrote in a love letter...

    SO, there's a special place in heaven for the mothers of twins.

    Hopefully the place that doesn't require forms.

    4:04 PM, August 26, 2006  
    Blogger Schmoopie wrote in a love letter...

    Pants, I just disenrolled, and then reenrolled our kiddos in another school, thus dealing with 2 different schools and didn't have to go through half the bullshit you had to go through. I am so sorry. Is that why they call it LSD? (Littleton School District) or are you in Englewood?

    9:53 PM, August 26, 2006  
    Blogger Nancy Dancehall wrote in a love letter...

    Popeye: If there is, there are no children ANYWHERE near the place, and it is quiet, and there are piles of dark chocolate that you don't have to share, clean glasses, masseuses named Alessandro and Paulo, you can listen to whatever music you want, watch whatever shows you want, curse like a sailor, smoke, drink, walk around nekkid, and actually sit down for a minute without hearing, "Mommy. Mommy! MOMMY!"
    In other words, it resembles my life BC (before children). Ok, minus Alessandro and Paulo. We are talking heaven, after all.

    Schmoop: LSD Heh. I like that.
    No dear, *putting on Snooty Hat* We, are in the Cherry Creek/Greenwood Village district, daaaaahhhhlink.
    You think John Elway's wife had to go through this? I think not. They probably sent the nanny. *sigh*

    11:02 AM, August 27, 2006  
    Blogger Esereth wrote in a love letter...

    Onan is a great name. Especially for a pet bird. Cuz they "spill their seed upon the ground." Eh?

    That's Dorothy Parker's, not mine. Good though, huh?

    Am I awful for being greatful when I found out Smudge was just one person?

    11:23 AM, August 28, 2006  
    Anonymous clowncar wrote in a love letter...

    O, odd that everyone seems to think your name is Onan. Is it some quality in your real name, or some quality in you?

    The line of Ms. Parker's is very funny.

    11:13 AM, August 29, 2006  
    Anonymous O wrote in a love letter...

    It's undoubtedly a quality in me.
    O

    8:59 PM, August 29, 2006  
    Blogger Nancy Dancehall wrote in a love letter...

    Esereth: That is a perfectly sane and healthy response. :-)

    5:07 PM, August 30, 2006  

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