But aside from that, she's still completely normal
I really really really did not intend for nablopomo to turn into a strike blog for me… But they keep giving me material! I realize this is serious business, but we’re still dealing with the foibles of human nature.
Yesterday, one gentleman went back and forth to the two gates on either side of me. With a cowbell. All day. All I could think was, “The WGA Strike! Now, with more cowbell!”
I am an evil person.
For the record… I haven’t missed a day yet. This may just be a new record for me in this kind of endeavor.
Well, I now have to physically cross the pickets. I don’t want to. But I must. You see they bumped up the picket times, so now they’re already there by the time I get to work. And frankly, all that would happen if I refused to cross in solidarity is I’d get fired. I’m not in any union, much less the WGA. So, I’d get fired for not showing up to work, and I’d still be fired after they finally get a contract, and all I’d get is unemployment. Maybe. Probably not, considering how I would have lost my job. So, cross I shall.
Makes me feel terrible. Like I’m a rotten person. But, my family comes first, and their fight is not my fight. I’ll never get paid residuals ever. Even though I work on every single film out of my studio. So, while I feel for them, and their creative content, I cannot NOT cross (if the WGA will pardon my double negative.)
I didn’t realize something was so close to happening. I realize that sounds vague, and I will share my thoughts, but not right now. I have to sort them for public consumption first.
Don’t worry – we’re all fine, nothing’s “wrong” per se. The plan today is to pickup, make a grocery list, do my grocery game, and shower. BIG plans, let me tell you.
Poe is off at his first game ever of paintball through work, and I have NO idea when he’s supposed to get home. So I’m not going shopping until he does. Because I don’t take my kids with me. If that makes me a bad mother so be it. Truth be told, I’m going to two different stores, lots of coupons, big list, and will probably spend about $300. I’m not running in for bread, so no. I do NOT want the kids with me.
Not much planned. That’s ok.
Gives me more time to ruminate on my thoughts.
This may actually totally bore you to tears. But as my journal I have GOT to record this for posterity.
Had Logan’s conference a couple of days ago, and the teacher told us this story as an example of the joy he brings to the classroom.
They count the days they’ve been in school… It’s been something like 48 days now. Each morning, Logan walks into the classroom, greets his teacher, and then proceeds to the back of the classroom where his cubby is. He then opens his backpack, takes out his snack and looks into the snack bag. At which point, no matter what’s going on in the classroom, “MRS. [TEACHER]!!!!! OH MY GOSSSSSHHHHH. I GOT [insert common snack item here] IN MY SNACK!! THAT IS SOOOOOOO COOOOOL!!!”
Every.Single.Morning.
Apparently, the teacher loves his reaction to his snack so much she had him show another teacher (who happens to be Joseph’s teacher from last year.) Why? Because that teacher was having a rough morning, and wanted to give her a smile.
Until a couple of days ago. He came in as normal, goes to the back, and does the daily snack check. This time, however, he sank to the floor, “Oooohhhh Nooooooo.” The teacher said she heard him and just knew that something was wrong, as that is just NOT the reaction he gives to his snack. She actually went to comfort him and find out what was wrong when she heard him. As she put it, “He is just so exuberant that this was a real 9-1-1 moment for him!” Why? The oh-so-dreaded applesauce was in there.
She calmed him down by telling him that he could take it home (“But I don’t want that STUFF in my house!”) and let his daddy know that that’s not what he likes. And he did.
And needless to say, there was no more applesauce in the snack.
OK. I really haven’t talked too much about the strike here, because I’d rather not get my ass fired, thank you very much.
In truth, the strike actually doesn’t effect me – or won’t I should say until maybe mid 2008. We’ll talk again then. Which, considering the last one lasted something like 22 weeks is a possibility.
But here’s the thing. I have to be at work. I’ve not crossed a picket yet – I get there early so I don’t have to. I stay on the lot at lunch. And then they’re gone by the time I leave. OK fine.
I’ve already mentioned the honking… My God The HONKING. My office windows are out to the street, and I can’t tell you how annoying the honking is.
But today? The air horn? So annoying. I’m not at a freaking basketball game.
But the prize for most ingenuity goes officially to the bugler. Yes, that’s right. Some enterprising picketer brought a BUGLE. And then went from line to line, playing his bugle (which so reminded me of summer camp bugling to wake us up.)
Goooooooood Morning good morning good morning!
It’s time to rise and shine!
Gooooooooood Morning good morning good morning!
It’s time to rise and shine!
Get up get up get up get up!
It’s time to rise and shine!
And then a rooster would crow. And then the bugle would blow.
Sorry. Tangent.
Anyway so the bugler is walking by and BUGLES AT MY WINDOW. What’d I ever do to him? I have nothing to do with their fight. Really. I swear. The there his is bugling at my office from the street. I have to say, I had no idea what to do with myself.
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