Monday, November 08, 2004
The Father called back tonight and apologized. I said, 'Terri told you you were a jerk, didn't she?' In a nutshell, he agreed. At least Terri is perceptive enough to understand I am upset without speaking with me. I loathe her for her bossiness, but I applaud her for prodding The Father when he needs it [though that must get tiring, as he requires much attention]. He made my mother so mad once she hurled a coffee cup at his head. It hit the wall (fortunately/unfortunately), chipping off its handle. Rather than throw the cup away, she put it back in the cabinet and used it periodically, just to remind The Father of his mortality. That's my favourite anecdote to relate about their relationship.
This time around we held a semi-normal conversation during which I brought him up-to-the-minute on school and other things. I mentioned the very brief Kevin Affair. I also told him about the first night I consumed a little alcohol (very little: half a cup of punch and three or four Jell-O shots), discovering I must possess the tolerance level of a five year-old. Three Jell-O shots and my cheeks turned red- that cannot be good, though Rebekah and Jen said it means they should take me out to party more.
The Father seemed not to mind when I noted I probably wouldn't graduate in four years. He said it was all the same to him, as I'll ultimately be paying for my education. He advised I not take more than one five-hour language course per semester, because the work load will murder me. The Father's counsel in this regard is fairly sound.
This afternoon I walked down the street bordering campus to the bank for to make a tiny deposit. I then splurged at The Dollar General on a single-serve container of apple-cinnamon oatmeal, two cans of tuna, an eight-pack of double-A batteries, and Suave cucumber melon body wash. How I stand all the excitement packed into each day defies comprehension.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:36 PM]