Goodbye, Ray

Ray died today.

Ray was "da man" on campus in high school. I remember a scrawny bespectacled goof in elementary school who the next year came back muscled-up and the center of the school universe. We never had one class together, which isn't unusual in a class of 500+, and I didn't go to the same parties and hangouts he did. We travelled in separate universes.

Still, in all the years of hearing all the rumors of all the guys and their jerky behavior, I can truly say I never heard one bad word uttered about Ray. You couldn't catch him being a jerk, even if you were looking.

I discovered this spring that we were in the same Bible study class at church. Small world. I re-introduced myself and he asked me if I was going to the reunion. Reunion? What reunion? Nobody told me about any reunion! But Ray made a point to inform me, forward my e-mail to the organizers, and encourage me to go. He didn't know me at all, and still was that nice.

He had the most annoying habit of typing in all caps on the board, probably due to Blackberry issues. We teased him mercilessly about that, as well as his habit of answering e-mail posts with posts in the open forum. He'd have this cryptic one-sided conversation going on and we'd roll, because it looked like a form of Typing Tourettes.

He teased the other guys on the message board about joining him for a triathlon. One had to have surgery and couldn't go, one was recovering from surgery and wasn't well enough yet. He wanted to get the old gang together and compete again, though he talked as if her were an old man who was creaky and out of shape. I think that was him being gracious. He was in fine shape. He just didn't want the other guys to skip the event thinking they couldn't do it. He wanted to see them try.

He died running that race, of a heart attack.

He had turned 39 on the 15th.

He leaves a wife and two girls under twelve.

And the hearts of all who knew him.

God Bless, Ray; you're Home now.

Waiting for Fall

Somehow, every year I make the same mistake.

Each year about this time, I get my hopes up. It's going to get cooler soon. The school year will turn out differently; better somehow, than all the years prior. I will have enough money for Christmas and will not stress over the holidays.

And every year I find I've gotten my hopes up again for no reason.

Not that optimism isn't on the face of it a good thing. It just also, in my case, appears to be frequently stupid. (And yes, I am indeed off my meds again, thank you for asking.)

It's the end of September, there's no cool air outside of my freezer, and school is another hotbed of disappointment. At least now that I'm grown there aren't any more tests. On paper. But my patience has been tested. Severely.

This lovely "friend" S, who needs way more meds, or a hobby, or a job, or all three, struck again. At a meeting of the community association Halloween committee, she spent her time loudly announcing to all the attendees that they need to get out of the way and let Fishie run that thing. Blessedly, J turned to her and finally snapped "Don't you think you ought to ask FISH before you go committing her to all this?"

Uh huh.

Where was Fishie? Fishie didn't even KNOW there was a meeting and wouldn't have gone if she did. She had other things like, oh, a JOB to keep.

So after S flounced out, my friend J apologized for S and said "Y'all can't paint Fish with the same brush as S. Fish didn't have anything to do with that." By this time, I think, that impression has gotten out there. And yet, she's the Mouth that Wouldn't Quit. She can't take a breath without pissing someone off. And it's getting to the point where even innocuous things she says make people cringe and want to slap her.

I'd get her pointed at a job, but I'd be afraid to unleash her on anyone else.

Somebody FedEx me some wellbutrin. Me off my meds + S running her mouth = One Tired Fishie.

I'm definitely a Drama Queen

I had my very first class tonight teaching after-school drama, and I am completely hooked, no pun intended. There were 15 kids in my class ages 9-11, and by the end I had learned all their names and had led them in their first whole day of exercises. They were a riot! I feel really good about it. It's hard playing to a tween audience when you're used to preschoolers, but I think I've got the hang of it.

The funnest part? When I chose Tyler to be the lead in the mini play. Tyler had a great time, and did his part with enthusiasm and energy, ad-libbing right where I needed him to, and learning his lines flawlessly. After it was all over and the kids were gone, I talked to my boss about how it went, and how well Tyler did.

"He didn't want to come today." she said.

"Get out!"

"Yeah, it's true. His mom said he didn't want to do it at all. She said he had to come ONE TIME in order to be able to drop it. So he did. Today."

"You mean it was his first time?"

"Yes. She says he has a hard time with new situations."

I was floored. I hadn't studied my class list that closely to know which were my newcomers, and didn't pay too much attention when I asked a show of hands to see how many kids had done it previously. He did not act like a kid who has a hard time with new situations. He looked just like a veteran to me.

So apparently God led me to just the right kid to be the lead. Maybe he'll end up coming back, and then I'll know I did well from objective evidence. As it is, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to have stumbled on this job. I can not believe they pay me to do this.

But I'll still take the money!

Not so much

I'm having a week.

Tuesday: Leave school after a brief attempt to get some treasurer stuff done. J calls me around lunch and says she has to tell me what's up. She comes over and proceeds to tell me S is around the bend completely. S has been going around saying things like "When Fish is president, I'll be 1st VP." and "We are going to get rid of the current president." and "I'm going to barge in the board meeting and tell them all what's what." She's all lumping my name in with hers over her hate-on of the president. To anyone who will listen.

At the same time S is a big drinker and partier, and Tuesday was talking about one of those "sexy parties" she had which I hear went very very wrong. At school. Loudly.

So J took her out and politely read her the riot act regarding getting me into trouble by claiming I'm in on all this anarchy talk, and also talking about sex and alcohol in the halls of the school at top voice. It was hard, but J figured she was the only one who could do it, being old enough to be S's mom.

Thursday: S throws a fit because J and I went to buy a couch for the library without taking her.

Friday: J reports that S said she had a couple of beers before coming to school with the kids because her meds are low and she needed something to take the edge off before coming in. She then further infuriates J by seeming to claim credit for all the hard work J had done to get an event running that day, and event S had zilch to do with.

Then later that morning the Bigun calls to say her car died at school on the other side of town, and I have to get over there and try to get her car going. We get it to her apartment and it doesn't survive being turned off again. It sits there until JJ and I go back over there and buy a new battery for it, which is how we get it over here to the mechanic we just paid $800 to two weeks ago.

The mechanic looks at it Saturday and gets it going around 6 p.m. JJ goes over to pick it up, turns out of the shop drive, and it dies again. So the mechanics look at it again today but can't get it done until tomorrow. JJ is taking the day off to get up early and drive the Bigun and her roommate to school, then come back here and see about the car. This on a day when I have reports to run and financials to prepare for the general meeting tomorrow night.

I think I'm almost ready to move to Bellville. I hear it's a lot less crazy out there. And this looks like a good start.