We hit a pretty tight spot financially this week. I had about $11 in my account. That's the first blessing. When I use this certain account, money taken out is less than what I actually spend. Gotta love the exchange rate (except when sending money orders home).

Dave and I go to friends' houses Mondays and Wednesdays to play games. We usually get supper from drive-through. Or weeks we can't afford that, I make sandwiches to take or we eat quickly here. Eating quickly here really only works for Mondays and it was Wednesday. And we had no bread. And not much peanut butter.

There was another item I needed. I'll say it. Pads.

Another blessing was a sweet, sweet girl that I've become friends with here. The person I usually catch a ride with on Wednesdays wasn't going that night and she offered to take me. I offered that she could hang out with me after I got off work until we had to leave.

On the way home from work, I went to Zellers. I couldn't find bread, but I did find a deal on Kraft peanut butter. $1.50 for a 500g jar. I couldn't find any, so I went with the 750g Skippy that was also on sale but not as good as one. Plus Dave favors Kraft. I couldn't blame anyone for stocking up, but I was out of luck. Then one was there. Suddenly. So a sale and the last one.

Then I decided there was no bread and decided on crackers. There was also a sale on those.

Not a sale on the Pads, but I did quick math in my head and it would work....

Until I got to the till. The $11 was right but I wasn't sure about the numbers after the decimal. I possibly COULD have swung it with the exchange rate, but I was still nervous and was about to go back to get a smaller pack of pads. But my sweet, sweet friend offered me some coinage.

She also bought me lunch at Boston Pizza which I couldn't finish and Dave got to take for lunch today.

It's a crappy time financially, but God's there and it's so clear to me. I'm still hoping for January. I want a certain job and if I don't get that, then I'll start applying in earnest again.

Until either, though, I have some income. It's not enough, but we're making it. But we're only making it because of God.

There were also times where it seemed like shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, etc. seemed to last far longer than they should. Remember when God kept the oil and flour from running out? I believe He still does that stuff.

I had a very long day with a bit of a traumatizing bit thrown in. Let me tell you the tale as to how we got here.

Dave and I finally got our eyes checked and got new glasses a month or so ago. It seemed as if I never got used to mine. Things seemed fuzzier than with my old glasses, but trying my old glasses again, it didn't seem to be the glasses.

I ignored it, but then things started getting a little more surreal. Then weeks after I should have done it, I did the cover one eye thing. I happened to be looking at the closet which, with a straight line, was the big thing. The left eye was a bit fuzzy, but otherwise, normal. The right eye seemed sharper, but, wait, why is the line curvy? And a blind spot?

I made an appointment for Monday, but Dave agreed to take me Saturday to see if we could do any drop-ins. We couldn't.

So, Monday starts this 3-Day-Long-Eye-Ordeal. I was able to work since the appointment wasn't until 3:30pm. He checked it out and first thought it was a busted blood vessel, but then thought it was a bump on a nerve. He set me up to see a retinal specialist Monday at 10:30am the next day.

I decided that I possibly could still go to work (laughs at herself knowing better now), but then the following happened.

The bus trip was seemingly simple enough on paper, so I decided I didn't have to leave extremely early. However, I missed my stop. The hospital wasn't as obvious as I thought it would be. Some lady said it was four blocks back. I hopped off and decided the lady wasn't counting the five blocks we just passed.

I walked and took out my form to get the number call the clinic to say I would be late. Then I noticed the little map. Where the office was located was much closer than where the hospital was. The office had to be where I had to go and maybe he only mentioned the hospital because it was near there? (Laughs again at self.)

So I finally get there 15+ minutes late, and it turns out he told me about the hospital because I was to go to the eye clinic there. But my faith in good people was more than once strengthened today. When she heard I took the bus, she made some calls to get me transferred to a doctor in that clinic.

But it was quite clear I wouldn't be making it to work, which with missing 3 days last week due to being sick, didn't look good. Any other job, I was well enough, but kids + germs = bad. I said I would definitely be back tomorrow.

So I sat. Then I had to fill out forms. Then I went to the washroom. I came back and a lady asked if I wanted my seat back. I almost laughed as I said, "I'll take this one." This one being right next to her. We ended up chatting for a bit, then she went back to her magazine and me to my iPhone.

I was finally called and photos were taken of my eyes. More waiting. Then I was talked to and examined. Then I was told it was a busted blood vessel, not melanoma like the other guy said (though all I was told was something about a bump), but to get a better look, I was going to be sent to the hospital for some angio-thingie pictures.

It was starting to look like a very interesting ordeal. I had no idea I would get pricked with any needles for my eyes.

I went to the front desk with my file and jokingly said, "Looks like I have to go there anyway." No laughs. It had been a few hours and I don't even think it was a girl who was around when the whole transfer was happening.

The doctor had told me I could grab something to eat while I was out, but the nurse made it sound so very urgent. It was agreed that a cab would be the best course. She even offered to give me money, which I stupidly rejected.

Cab was called. Cab came. I got in cab. Cab drove off. Cab dropped me off right at the door. Ah, luxury. So I got to the eye clinic, grabbed a number and felt a bit worried that she called 99 and I pulled 505. Until I realized it was only the last two numbers and it was about to roll over.

I got a nice plastic bracelet with a sticker ID on it and off I went to Pod 3. That's right. Pod 3. I don't know why, but I like it. I sat, I went to the washroom and when I came back, I was told that they were looking for me. So I poked my head in and was sat down by a cheerful nurse who explained to me what would happen.

We chatted as I was freaking a little. Then the prick and done. Giving blood more than I've been IVed, I expect worse than it is. Being stuck with a needle is going to be met with apprehension no matter what, though, I guess.

She did something with drawing a bit out and injecting some saline solution, which because of my fascination, I was aware of the vague warmth.

Then it was time for the photos. I didn't dare bend my arm. Many photos were taken. The doc said he was ready. My head was in the device as my arm was touched. It wasn't so much that I felt anything. It was more that I knew something was being put in me. More photos were taken and the doc joked that people always stop breathing with the solution is injected. I said, "It's because something is going into us and we get nervous."

So that was done. Needle removed, a few more photos and out to wait while photos were being printed. Then I was handed the envelope and sent on my way. Feeling a bit disoriented (Staring into bright lights and blinking red lights for a long time does that to you, I suppose.) I was undecided if I should stop for lunch like the doc suggested (and it was 2) or hurry like the nurse said. I went downstairs but did a few turn backs before I decided to text Dave to check with him to see if it was ok to spend a few bucks on lunch, which it was. I ate way too fast with the hurrying nurse still pushing at me in my head.

I called the cab and since it would be 15 minutes and it was cold, I waited inside. It turned out not to be a good idea. A cab pulled up about the time mine would, but this elderly lady with a walker went up to it. Whether it was hers or not, I didn't care. She needed it more. I was calling to see if I had missed it and to order another when a van pulled up. It wasn't for me, but no one else was out there. Someone came as we were figuring out what to do: He spin around again or just take me and come back. It was for her and her husband, but he needed to take another test.

He seemed rather strict about them being ready which seemed to fret the woman, but assuming they would be ready when he came back, it worked out. I would get a ride, and so would she and he would get two fares.

Not that he turned the meter on. He said I could pay whatever I wanted. I said the trip there was $6.40 and ended up paying $7 (I wasn't a reserved fare but I also didn't have that much.) Unfortunately, looking at the first bill, I was charged $7.40. Did I miss the extra $1 or was I overcharged? No matter.

I got back to the other clinic and more waiting. Then I was told they know what it was (not sure, but basically a busted vessel, I think) but not sure how it happened. Also, there seemed to be the same thing, though much milder, in the left eye.

He and his resident were chatting in big doc terms and mentioned something about presenting the case at a convention. I chuckled, "My eye is special."

He said to treat it, he would inject something. I kinda got stuck on "injected." And more tests.

So now here's the traumatic part. After some more waiting, the washroom and more waiting, I get in the chair and it's put into a laying position. Poor nurse. Anytime she put something near my eye and I say, "What's that?" I KNOW what the drop bottles look like, but I knew a needle was coming somewhere in this.

I get two drops and then something that looks like a needle and she finally just said, "I don't do the needle. Only the doctor does the needle." So another drop.

Then this metal contraption comes into view. I nearly jumped out of my chair and she explained it was to hold my eye open.

Ok, (SPOILER ALERT) I saw X-Men Origins: Wolverine a few months ago and a scene toward the end shows Deadpool on a table with his eyes being held open. I just had to ask Dave that last fact because I turned away at that point. Anyway, I was thinking of that at some point earlier in the day as my mind went over what this issue would resolve in.

So, in a way, having my eye being held open was sort of a nightmarish thing to me. Nor did anyone warn me it would happen. Oh well.

I was told not to squeeze. I couldn't help it. Our eyelids close when things come near it. I can't stop it. Anyway, I finally calmed down, and I was told not to move when the needle happens and I would feel it. I told her I WOULD blink, but I was assured it wouldn't be an issue.

Also, I find it really weird that while my eye was being held very wide open, I couldn't see anything.

Doc came in and I told him I was panicking a little. He chuckled expectantly and came close. I was tapping my foot, then stopped just as suddenly. He did it and asked something.

"It hurts. It hurts."

He said something comforting and I was just about to come back to coherency when the apparently evil, eye-hurting lady put her hand near my eye causing me to ask accusingly, "What are you doing?" She was just rinsing and then pulling the contraption out and then rinsing some more.

I was called a trooper. Which I have come to think means, "Wow, you really freaked out, but not enough to make this impossible."

The doctor is explaining some stuff to me while I'm still recovering from a procedure that, and I never thought I'd say this, that's more invasive than a pap smear, so I don't really recall much of what was said.

There was also mention that I was called ten minutes ago. What was it with my perfect timing to go to the washroom today?

After the contraption was removed, I couldn't open my eyes. I was growing concerned until I realized I hadn't tried yet. I willed them open and the doctor is still talking and I'm trying to listen at the same time as trying to tell myself that I'm ok now. It's over. I was NOT abducted by aliens that wanted my eyeballs.

Still in mental recovery, I get out front and hand her the stuff and she gets together requests for tests and tells me the date for the next appointment.

I'm confused, "But he said he wanted to see me in a week."

"He told me four weeks."

"We're gonna go with yours because I was kinda freaking when he told me."

Then I was told I had an appointment tomorrow for some skin test. I'm kinda curious how this turned into something bigger, but I'm trusting them. Especially when the resident told me that these people are Medical Doctors first with specialization in Opth... Eye stuff.

So then I ask where the 8 comes. I go the wrong way apparently and wandering around a bit I see Denny's. I had already decided that the second I see someplace I would go in, drink coffee or something and just wait for Dave to come get me. I was feeling a little traumatized, I had a long day, my eye was sore, it was dark and cold and I couldn't see well. I was done. If I couldn't be home right then, I could at least be somewhere warm.

We ended up eating supper there, which was much needed. I have such a sweet, loving husband.

But tomorrow morning it starts again. I'm getting dropped off by Dave rather than dealing with the bus. And I could walk to the building for the other two test clinics from there, both walk-in. If I'm feeling lazy, I may even spend a few bucks to get there by cab. I'm hoping it'll all be done before afternoon if not soon after noon, but I definitely called in. I left a message apologizing and saying I hope it doesn't look bad, but it's all just bad timing and unless something else pops up in the tests, I SHOULD be there Thursday.

I really should have been lying down, resting my tired eyes, but this was a little cathartic, so it's all good.

However, I am done at the moment. I have something to check and then teeth to brush and then my poor eye can rest.

P.S. ALL OF THIS WAS FREE! (Don't give me lectures about taxes or anything as I'm well aware.) I can't imagine how much it would have cost.

Instructor Career: You know how we want to be a hundred things when we're kids? I don't think I grew out of that. Or maybe I had, but thought I couldn't do what I actually had settled on my Senior year due to some inability to deal with the big world of University living. I had settled on teaching, but 3 days into University, I couldn't handle the shell-shock of completely independent living, so I quit before I even started. There was also the thought of the huge student debt. It was too late to register anywhere else, or so I thought. Either way, I did need time to figure out what to do. After all, I had just stuck a stick in the spokes if the spinning wheel that COULD have been my future.

I had been working in the technical ministry at church and thought that Network Administration would be cool. That lasted longer than three days, anyway. By the second year, I had discovered it was much more boring than I thought. Not to mention I had just discovered a talent (finally) in myself. Well, it was a passion that developed through criticism. I had a passion and eventually knowledge and skill to put together fonts, colors and other elements to create things like ads, slideshows, etc. I wanted to be a Graphic Designer! This made Network Administration even more dull. I didn't quit, but the lack of interest caused me to fail. It was either that or the fact I already attended two years of college that I was no longer eligible for aid.

But again, it was a four year venture at the time. I did find a college that offered a program that had a class in graphic design, so I did that. I graduated. I was only able to find jobs in sign shops which expected me to act as receptionist too. It wasn't so much the multitasking, it was the constant interruptions and the mostly technical aspect of the job that I failed at. I do try to pay attention to detail, but it's not my strong suit. I'm more holistic and this job was more technical than creative at times. In between all that was some other jobs where it was mostly clerical, and I learned I really do love clerical work. I love sorting, filing, typing, using office machines, etc. I even like making coffee!

I finally found a job I adored. (There is a cool story to that but I ramble enough.) I could design and also do some clerical duties without having to deal with the phone. Even when I did have to do the phones, it wasn't a big deal. I had a wonderful boss and sweet co-workers. There were differences, but it all was just like working with friends. We became like a work-family.

But then I met a boy and moved to Canada to be with him. I waited patiently until I could work legally and I got a temp job within 3 months of being able to work. Then the recession hit. The assignment ended and not much in finding anything in either clerical or graphic design.

However, in the months of scouring for jobs, I saw something that reignited the original dream. Teaching. And not only teaching, but causing me to realize I could combine more than one passion. I could possibly, eventually, teach graphic design. Which was an on and off dream, but eventually I gave up and never thought of it again due to thinking I could never afford to go to school again like I wanted. The job offered was teaching the Microsoft Office Suite and that's enough to make me excited! There was more as I thought about it. As I said, I have been wanting to go back to school. Teaching (and in which, learning) gave me that. There hopefully also could be the benefit of free classes offered. Not to mention excuses to use office supplies!

Unfortunately, they filled the job internally, but they said I am on the list because they expect many more students in January. So I was still looking for jobs. I found one in the education field. A far stretch from my end goal, but it is something. Watching kids at lunch time.

So now I'm researching teaching. Or finished what I can possibly think to look up at the moment. It's all in OneNote nicely organized.

Writing: During my daily job search, I saw an ad asking for manuscripts. 10,000 words at least. I thought I can do that! Which made me think of my current book that is the ONLY story that has any hope of being finished. Do I have enough words to send to a publisher?

So, I finally looked up the average word count for the young adult genre, which I believe Far From Home fits into. I then did a word count on the story and it falls nearly half short. So while I thought I possibly hit a place where I could continue into a sequel, I have plenty of room to just plain finish the story.

And it took me since before 2000 off and on to get that much. Yet, I did write most of the book in less than a year. The longest stretch it had. So, surely I could write 10,000 in the time period given.

If there's inspiration.

There is the poem book, and Lulu to publish it at not initial cost (though they do take money everytime someone buys a copy), but I haven't decided if I care if the ISBN isn't mine.

And that's about it. There's the day job that I want and the hobby that I do dream will bring in at least some money some day.

Well, there's ideas for designing T-shirts and such, but whose really interested?

Oh, hobbies I think will bring no income whatsoever.

YouTube: One new idea is instructional videos. I even found a nifty new online tool to do so. Actually finding it gave me that new idea.

I also have an idea that, so far, I just have the "setting" for: Post Apocalyptic. No plot. No character ideas. But I have a setting! -rolls eyes at self- I hate when I have more enthusiasm than inspiration.

First off, I understand some of you are considerate, thoughtful people. This is an open letter to the people like most of whom I live in this building with.

Also, I understand activity happens during the day. I accept the floor squeaks and occasional dog barking.

HOWEVER!

Let's start with the dog barking. Some of you have dogs that bark incessantly. Once they start, they continue inexplicably for 15-30 minutes. This can grate on the nerves. If you are home, CONTROL THE DOG. When you leave your home, PLEASE put the dog in a back room so that when it DOES bark, it is SOMEWHAT less loud, meaning a tad easier to deal with. Or at least I don't have to turn my headphones up so loud. (See how I'm using headphones? Try it. They're like $20.)

Next, we'll discuss media volume. I cannot, for the life of me, understand why one needs anything that loud in the first place. So, PLEASE keep it at a normal level. There should be no need for the "after 10 or 11" issue because I say again, I see no need to have it loud enough to spill out; even into the hallway.

As I said, I do understand squeaky floors and the occasional sound from you closing your drawers and whatnot. I do not, on the other hand, understand the incessant sound of you seemingly bowling. And must you sound like a herd of elephants when walking the stairs and hallway?

And for you people leaving the building after midnight on weeknights, what are you doing? I understand you may have an odd-hours job, but I'm far too paranoid for that. You're insane hours make it impossible for me to go to bed early.

See, it's not only the things in and of themselves that get to me. It's the wondering what you're up to. Late hours, odd noises, girls crying, screaming, bumbling around drunk. (For those possibly growing concerned, these don't happen all the time, but every month one of them may. Except the late hours. Those are every night.)

Weekdays are somewhat ok, and the worst complaint is your stupid dogs and your late hours when I'm trying to go to bed early. And the occasional loud media. Weekends are what I dread and loathe. I never did like partiers and I really don't like living in the same building with them.

So that's what I think of you inconsiderate, oblivious people who have NO concern for the other people in the building in which you dwell. The worst ones are the ones who have been told that they are too loud and insist on still doing so, coming up with excuses that I've come to think are lies in the first place.

Perhaps you're not doing it out of spite, but you're sure not thinking of NOT doing it and in my eyes, that's not much better.

PS: How far is your head stuck up your bum that you don't realize you left your bathroom fan on for days? I do understand you don't know I can hear it in my bathroom, causing me to keep my bathroom door closed which distresses my cat because she likes to drink out of the toilet, but I'm pretty sure if I did tell you, you WOULD do it out of spite.

I was going nearly crazy last week with it all, but I got better this week. Even trying to go to bed early last night and the late nighters being noisy wasn't a big deal. But today has pressed my buttons. See, I'm a little sick. Not sick enough to skip out on tonight's plans, but sick enough I wanted to take a little nap before leaving. I only had about 20 minutes in which to take this nap. Do you know what happened almost as SOON as I got settled in? A dog barked. I gave up after 5 minutes and he did continue until just a few moments ago.

I hate the irony that he barked during the whole time I could have napped and stopped the moment I would have gotten up if I was able to take said nap. And people wonder why I think there's a conspiracy against me. I'm pissed. And no one better say I don't have a right to be.

I've gotten used to an hour long job basically really being 3 hours with the bus ride. I get home early and I'm good with that.

Well, then I had to take in a couple pieces of ID because I don't have a credit card and for some reason, they need that nowadays to do it the convenient, online way. But at least I know what that big blue building is now. :D

Then I had a job interview, which I had to reschedule after I had time to think about it. (Who expects a call about a job on Remembrance/Veteran's Day?) There was no way I would be able to pull it off.

I'm anxious to call Reeve's about the job in January and what being on the list means. Do I have the job for sure? Do I come in for the second interview or am I starting over with a first interview? If it's not the first, then I really want to reiterate my interest.

First off, let's discuss the human race. There are some good people and I do know a good lot of them. There are also creepy, crazy, rude, snobby, etc. people. Where will you most likely meet these lowest common denominators of the human race?

The bus.

I'm going to begin with the almost everyday annoyances: People being inconsiderate of their volume (either music device or voices) and being high or something so I overhear a conversation that just goes under my skin.

I learned it's not the radio so much. The driver had a radio on the other day and it bothered me none. It's when sound spills over from something that's very purpose is to be a PERSONAL listening device. As well as when people talk so loud I have to hear about their drama-filled lives that are thus so because they decide to get involved in such idiotic things.

Then there's the slow, slurred speech and conversations where the people seem to forget what they said a moment ago and other annoyances I forget the specifics of right now.

But as for today, people really cause me to understand why evolution makes sense to some people. As a person who believes in creation, I think we are at least capable of being deeper, but seems a lot of people really give evidence to the evolution theory because they seem no more deep than a fish.

Let's start with the bus stop. I was standing there and normally I wouldn't go into the shelter if others are in there. Today, however, I decided to just go in there.

Big mistake.

It seems today I am a tad more inclined to be confrontational. Perhaps it's the working with kids and for an hour I'm having to correct them on their behavior. It could also be the fact that riding the bus every day for the past two weeks has gotten me just plain sick and tired of the beings that ride it.

After a few moments, the girls in the shelter spit. Now, in their defense, it wasn't at me. But, correct me if I'm wrong, but were not most of us taught that spitting in public is just wrong? After the second time, I turned and said, "Could you please not spit?"

They got the attitude like they can do whatever they want.

Other than the utter rudeness and grossness, why weren't they spitting at their own feet instead of about two feet in my direction? Second, why spit at all?

The third matter was the only thought I had at the moment to comment on, "Why not spit in the trash can?" It was just outside the shelter.

I got the same attitude and worse. I got so infuriated, I just said, "Learn to be considerate," and walked out to sit on the bench.

No offense, Edmontonians, but it seems I am meeting MORE inconsiderate people here than in Arkansas. People here don't seem to realize there are OTHER people around. I'm growing rather sour about it. I could list another example, but I think I've made my point and I've run that complaint to the ground.

Being spiteful seems to be another personality trait of most bus-riders. The Spit Girls stepped outside after I went to the outside bench and riddled the sidewalk with their spit.

Really, how did they get the idea that it's ok? There was a bit of stuffiness in the Victorian Days, but I think I really prefer it to this day and age of anything goes. I'm a very casual person, but I was taught manners, politeness, respectfulness and some etiquette. There's casual and and then there's primal.

But I digress.

So I get on the bus, thankful the Spit Girls didn't get on. I am far from sorry for speaking to them about learning to be considerate and respectful (Maybe I was the first and they'll ponder it.) but I was a little nervous that they would, in fact, spit on me.

With the Spit Girls behind me, I settled in for the rest of the ride to work. Unfortunately, that would not happen.

I was texting Dave, venting, and I checked to see if the 130 was at the bus timed stop like it was yesterday. Sadly, today's events evened out the awesomeness of that happening yesterday. By the time we got to Kingsway, the guy at the door hit the pole. I'm not complaining about that, but why I mentioned it will be made clear in a moment.

We get off and I look at the time. The 130 would have left two minutes ago. I was guessing that's why the guy got upset, so I found him and asked if the 130 just left. Yes. Another wouldn't be there until 11:48, three minutes after I'm supposed to be at work. Meaning I'll be so late, I might as well not go since it's only an hour-a-day job. I hop on the 9 going home that just drove up.

I'll digress again.

Fearing this would happen when I first got the job, I was leaving at 10:00. Deciding there was no need to get there so early, I left at 10:30 to wait the fifteen or so minutes for the bus that would get me there ten minutes before the job started. The walk is about five minutes, so it worked out perfectly. Then I got tired of sitting at the stop so long, so deciding to give the buses a little more credit, I started leaving at 11:00 so I would only have to wait a couple of minutes at Kingsway.

There's still a bit of wait coming back, but there's nothing really to do after 12:45 and there's no worry about time, so it evens out.

It was working out ok, but today, the bus failed me.

When I called in about it, there was a complete understanding. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't like being scolded, but it felt as if they could get along just fine without me. I don't want a job that takes over my life, but I do want a job where if I'm not there, there is a bit of concern.

Back to the people who lack awareness.

I ring the bell and get up to stand at the door. Two people are there, and I immediately assume what will happen. The bus stops. They don't move. I say, "Excuse me." The guy seems to snap out of it and moves. The girl is still unmoving. I get flustered and think, "I can't get through that." I finally touch the girl and I don't think I had to press on her too much, but she finally moved.

The only good thing about today's bus trip was that there was someone already at the crosswalk who had pushed the button so that by the time I got there, I could cross. This is a big deal to me. I constantly rant about how slow that crosswalk signal is.

I can handle taking the bus, but there are so many reasons I dread it: The wait, the unreliability, the germs and dirt and grime and grease everywhere, the spilling over of conversations and iPods because people are inconsiderate, rude kids, drunken conversations. I'm exaggerating, so take what I'm making it out to be and lower to ten percent, but obviously it bothers me enough to blog about in the lengthy way that I have.

I really am not sure why anyone would take the bus if they could afford to have the car. The planet will do JUST fine if I care more about MY comfort and convenience than it's ozone layer.

So somehow, in a part of the story that's irrelevant, something happened to Dave's clock that spurred the following email conversation.

Lori: The clock was unplugged... sorry.

Dave: That’s okay…if you plugged it back in, it should have not lost any time

Lori: I didn't yet....

Dave: Well, it might still remember what time it is if you plug it in now

At this point, I had gone to do so. I discovered that the clock was plugged in fine. I flipped the switch on the powerbar and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something. Turning my head fully, I noticed the powerbar was unplugged.

On a sidenote, I noticed the top outlet had its holes partially covered by paint. So I plugged it in there, but then decided I like to plug things that are more of a permanent fixture in the bottom, so at least it looks more like an outlet on the top.

Now, back to the dialog.

Lori: It did, but the power bar was what got unplugged... so not sure what that'll mean to you.. [more or less the paint issue I mentioned above.]

Dave: I’m confused now…so it was the power bar that got unplugged, not the clock?

Lori: Well the powerbar got unplugged, but the clock was connected to it, therefore disconnecting it to an active power source. Happy now? You made me sound like a pretentious nerd. ;)

So there was a job posting for Lunch Program Supervisor. It was only a little over an hour a day with pay of $17 a day. The best interview ever. Some simple questions about police record checks, etc. Working in Kid's Church at FC really helped with things too.

At first, it was just a "Oh, this shouldn't be too bad."

Then there was an instant connection. They needed someone and I remembered what fun I had in Kid's Church and now it was more that I wanted it. Not to mention getting my foot in the door with an education institute.

I was weary of the bus and I think I knew I was going to take it, but I dreaded the bus. I got over that and the commute with waiting time is longer than the hours, but it's not a terrible trip. I did tell them they had me at least for 2 months because of college instructor job I want, and if that didn't happen, then longer.

If anything, it's good the be feeling less pressure to get a job. Since it is so little time, I am still looking, but as I said, less pressure. I feel good. :D

The first day was the smoothest first day I've ever had. Even with the getting lost in the halls and forgetting my bucket. (We take buckets into the classes so kids can wipe their desks after eating and we take it out at the end.) The kids decided to play the quiet game so it was quiet the first day. There was a little ASL discussion. Even the sassy one of the class is easy to get under control with a stern voice. I chat with them about this and that too.

I had dozed off watching TV waiting for Dave to come home and this may had to do with the it didn't feel like a first day feeling. Or maybe it was that I didn't really feel the first day anxiety. I never got into the flow so easily.

Even on the playground I've intervened likely where the others wouldn't, but no harm. I'm not as strict as I remember I used to be, but I still have the vigilant hawkeye. Perhaps it's the knowing how loose lunch time is that I'm not expecting absolute quiet still children.

I do have to insist they stay at their seats, but as one little girl helped us all understand: If I let them just wander about... it can get chaotic. That's not how she put it, but it's true.

Today I almost didn't stay for the costume parade with some of the other Lunch Supervisors, but I decided, why not? And I don't regret it. I volunteered to the principal to take pictures (with my iPhone), but there are some privacy issues, which after thinking about it, I realized it wasn't a good idea. I'm glad I asked instead of just taking photos and posting them without asking.

It reminded me of Kid's Church and how fun it was. My only wish is that I could stay longer. The interview was Tuesday (with her showing me the class I'd have if I took the job) and worked Thursday and today. I'm already attached to a few kids in the class. We only have 15 minutes together a day. I have yet to encounter any of them during recess.

I want to call them "my kids," but 15 minutes a day hardly qualifies it.

And going to be one step ahead of everyone. This does NOT mean I am ready to have kids myself. I may never be ready to have kids. I still like the idea of adoption, but birthing a fragile little thing, I'm not sure I can handle it. Kids are a blessing, but not everyone is meant to have them. 

Well, this WAS going to be a tad more exciting, but now, not so much.

McDonald's had started up the annual Monopoly game. Between Dave and I, we collect about 8 stickers or more a week; 2 on each drink and fries. I was putting them in the little game thingie and one fell, but I wasn't too concerned.

One night I found the piece and thinking it was red, took a look at them and saw that I had three red pieces with different names. WE WON $10,000!

[insert melodramatic whining about the debt that is a black hole sucking the prize into a void here]

So I tweeted and told Dave. He asked if I was sure and I was a tad offended. Of course I was sure! I checked the names several times.

But I did check again. The numbers were different.

[insert rant about color management here]

So, as anti-climatic as the ending is, there's the story.

Galleries To Be Updated

Geekdom in Edmonton

Anya

Home in AB Through the Years

Edmonton

Home in AR Through the Years


One Shot Galleries

Little Get Together Summer 2009

Sarah and Sean Wedding

Nik's Birthday 2009

Canmore and Banff in Summer 2008

Working at the Brick

OtaFest 2009

Banff February 2009

Golf Tournament 2007

Jeremy Smith's Going Away Party Before 2005

Day of Fun 10-03-07

LR Zoo in Spring 2005

Amanda and the River Market New Years Day 2006

Wedding

Honeymoon

Leaf

LR River Market 06-05-04

American Road Trip 08-30-03