LeighMo's bit of heaven (or hell)

I hate broccoli. It stems back to the early days of son the elder occupying the womb; in an attempt to ensure he had a fully functioning brain stem, I ate the crap daily. The nurse told me I had to, that broccoli aids in proper brain development for the fetus. So I noshed on the shite whenever i could...without dip.

Then, on one particularly warm June weekend, I forgot my lunchbag in the locker at work. Where there was broccoli left over. Where it sat until I came back to work on Monday. When I opened the locker, the stench was, shall we say, enough to send a first time, first trimester preggo chic heading for the porcelain throne.

And from that day on, the mere sight of a floret turns my stomach. I can't bring myself to touch it, and I usually refer to it as 'the most wretched of roughage'. The miracle for today, you see, was when I opened my steaming container of microwave beef pepper stir fry, there was only ONE clump of broccoli, sitting on top, allowing me to remove it all in one fell swoop. No contaminating the beef and the peppers and carrots and rice with its awefulness, at least not today.

Hallelujah!!

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I've also decided that Baker can kiss my derriere. I appealed AGAIN to be taken off academic suspension and have my financial aid reinstated; they denied me again. This time, I included medical documentation of the ex husband's bout with stage 3 cancer, as well as his treatment schedules showing how I was driving back and forth to Grand Rapids to get him there. I included statements showing the financial hardships we were enduring, as well as my own records documenting my nervous breakdown/borderline personality disorder (which had ALOT to do with my forgetting everything else in my life in the face of a catastrophe, whether real or imagined.) You get the point....my brother had told me that the more one writes and sends, the more likely she is to win the appeal. This was my second attempt, and again I was denied.

If I can cough up $600 to take one class and pay for it, I can get the financial aid back. Sadly, though, right now I can't get $60 saved, let alone $600 by October. I am tired of trying to explain myself to these people, tired of knowing that I qualify for aid to go to school, but because some oversight board thinks I'm taking too long, the last six classes I need are sort of un-takeable. Screw 'em, I says.

Right now, I'm looking into the University of Phoenix, to see if my credits will transfer. We go on quarters, not semesters, so it is up in the air. They have a few programs, paraprofessional for classrooms and legal assisting (maybe I could get the brother to open a practice and hire me). Ferris offers an Entrepreuner certificate program, that teaches one how to conceptualize a business, write a plan for it, seek out capital, yadda yadda. Working for myself would rock, and I would love to open a coffee shop somewhere cool, that serves Fair trade coffee and has comfy couches and isn't publicly traded. Oohh, but to daydream forever....

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The daughter is having major anxiety over a new school. I think things are catching up to her, or she's already inheriting my anxiety problems. She begged me (with tears, and hiccups, and clenched fists) to marry Daddy, so he can come live with us again when I tucked her in. I said I couldn't, which naturally means I'm just being a meanie. Usually in times like this, I fantasize about the day, when they are older, that they will be able to understand that it was not my fault for sending Daddy away, that he walked away of his own accord. I can't do anything about it now, children barely understand the concepts of love, and I don't want to poison their minds with too much information about the dastardly things adults do to each other, or the consequences thereof. By the end of the week my daughter will be ruling the new class, and she will have forgotten that she was afraid people will hate her, or steal her stuff, or see her underwear.

Don't laugh, that girl can be quite the exhibitionist.