The writing workshop was awful the other night. My segment got a lot more "working" than compliments. Not that I thought it was some brilliant masterpiece or anything but I thought my writing was good. My dialog was "forced" and my voice "weak." Meh.
My dearie darling girlie is upset that I cannot attend the 4th grade poetry reading. One night a week I work, it's not like I'm juggling a dozen commitments, and they always have to hold these things on Thursdays. And she isn't just upset, she's upset. Tears-whining-angst upset. Induce huge-mommy-guilt-fest upset. Why does being a parent have to suck sometimes?
I forgot to tell you though, that hot shreddin' Betty got a gold medal in giant slalom last weekend, her first race evah!
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