I haven't been writing on my blog recently because this week and last week have been absolutely crazy. Rose is the editor of our homeschool yearbook this year. She didn't tell me last year (as I congratulated her for her ascension to the post of assistant editor) that she would become editor this year and the editor's parent (me) would necessarily become the person in charge of the yearbook, its fundraising, the winter formal (the prom), and the arbiter of some of the most hot-button, moral but non-theological issues among Christian homeschoolers as there ever could be.
The first stage, and seemingly the simplest, has involved my scheduling pictures for this week since the beginning of August. It has been a non-stop onslaught of polite but demanding, insensitive mothers, sometimes sending between 5 and 25 emails back and forth back and forth just to decide on a morning or afternoon appointment: “We have 11:00.” “How about 11:15?” “That’s fine.” “Actually, no, 11:00 is better unless you have a 3:45, and then we’d prefer that.” “3:45 is open for four spaces.” “We need five. Are you sure 11:00 is full?” "11:15 has five spaces." "We had a 'family emergency' what about 3:30?" And on and on and on and on like that at least eight more times.
Then this week I get a wayward call or two saying, "where are you located?" or "what is your address?" displaying only the fact that these people haven't read the fifty billion preceding informative emails from our group that tell them that Rose and I are just people like them, but in charge of making the schedules for the yearbook pictures, not the photographers.
I'm sure there are more installments of this saga to come, but right now I need to lie down and get a danged glass of wine.
