Things and stuff since a post ago

[captainsblog]

I heard more about Emily's driving class from yesterday. The classroom on Bailey was, if anything, smaller than the one we stared into way down the block, and as the last one there, she wound up virtually sitting in the bathroom. This did not produce the distraction you might think; quite the opposite, as one of those automatic air fresheners kept going off several times an hour, accentuating their tales of driver-ed carnage with the fresh scent of lilacs.

Indeed, she had no desire to go back to them for her actual lessonage before taking the road test. Somehow it had escaped my notice that AAA might run such a program; I've only been a member for 30 years and only drive by the two-steering-wheeled cars in their parking lot at least once every freaking day. Turns out it costs $60 less (for members, anyway) than the other guys would've been.

Win r squared.

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We may also have a bit more green folding money around to put toward such things. In the mail yesterday, delivered long after we all got home from our assorted rounds, was a letter from RIT announcing she'd been granted a $6,000 merit scholarship for each of her four years there.  That is more than my entire annual private-college tuition at Cornell was for any year except my final one.  Granted, prices have gone up a tad since then, but it certainly puts a significant dent in what is still going to be a pretty big boat.

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Eleanor is writing (or, if those words are highlighted, she wrote) about the film we watched last night, and its resemblance to the Progidal Son story that was coincidentally our main reading in church this morning (and probably yours, if you're in many denominations). One of the other speakers yesterday also used it as a basis for her text, and quite convincingly referred to Dude and His Two Sons as "a perfect first-century example of a dysfunctional family." We've changed in many tangible ways in those 2,000 years, but most of our internal wiring remains sadly the same if we really don't work hard at overcoming it.

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Our dear ellettra wrote earlier today about the odd experience of going out in a funkier corner of Portland, Oregon and being accosted by any number of hash-buying opportunities. I replied with something I'd just read in Artvoice:

Hashish is not the only stupidity-inducing narcotic in your fair state. Witness this gem from this week's News of the Weird:

The burglar who stole already-filled prescription orders from the West Main Pharmacy in Medford, Ore., in January puzzlingly limited his take to the pickup-ready packages filed under "O." Police guessed that the burglar must have been after the commonly stolen "oxycodone" and was unaware that outgoing prescriptions are filed by customers' last names, not their medications.

This also explains why it takes so damn long in south Florida for them to find your pickup if your name begins with an L.

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And on that cheery note, it's time to feed the animals. Only they don't know it, on account of the clocks moving. What, you think I'M gonna tell them?

Comments

[thanatos-kalos.livejournal.com]

In the mail yesterday, delivered long after we all got home from our assorted rounds, was a letter from RIT announcing she'd been granted a $6,000 merit scholarship for each of her four years there.

Oh how absolutely fantastic! She totally deserves it!