(For the graduation party. I'm not just randomly baking pie. I do that, sometimes, particularly when I'm stressed-- I use baking as stress relief-- but this time, I have a real reason.)
So yes, summer begins. And yes, I am soooo glad that month from hell is over. Tests done, projects over, everything taken care of. I doubt that the Chem test gave me much of an advantage; it might give me like two points higher of a grade but I doubt it will make a big difference. That was a lot of information to process in only a week or so. We'll see.
Today, after my exam, I ran around like a nut loading up my car with a year's worth of shit minus the three boxes and the assorted appliances and clothes that already went home. Meanwhile it was raining. Luckily I employed the method of stuff-moving that my dad always suggests: recruit a strong young gentleman to assist. Luckily I had one on hand, though I did have to bring him back before I was done packing as he was preparing for his last meeting with Inconcinnus, his awkward friend, who is moving back to Georgia. However, Inconcinnus may be getting married, in which case I will bet money that Ryter goes to Georgia, and hopefully gets roped into wearing a suit or some fascsimile thereof. In which case, I WILL obtain pictures, even if it requires stalker-like movements.
Anyway, with the car packed up to the brim with crap and Menelaus secure in the front seat, packed in with pillows, I set off for home in the rain, remembered that I had some Tupperware of Ryter's, left it ninja-like in his door frame, then headed home, calling my mom as I went. "Hey, Mummy, I'm headed home now."
"Oh, really? I thought you weren't coming home until Wednesday!"
"It... is Wednesday..."
Is it any wonder this woman forgot her own daughter's birthday (Shrewd's, not mine)? Actually, she says, she didn't forget the birthday-- she forgot the month. Because that is so much better.
My grandmother is here, so I'm on the fold-out on the couch. I like how I spend a year away from home, I come back, and I'M the one on the couch, instead of just putting her into Shrewd's room, which is empty. Oh, wait, that's right, I actually cleaned my room. Damn, I hate being a dutiful daughter.
Okay, so I admit it. Most of my dutifulness lately has been an unspoken bribe for NOT having the "So... you're spending Friday night at a guy's house..." conversation. It's not that my mom would care, but she would tease me for it; my dad would look at me disapprovingly and also tease, but his would have an element of "I don't think this is really appropriate for you to be doing" to it.
But I am TAKING A STAND! I am Making My Own Choices to not have to drive to Durham reaaaally early on Saturday morning. Actually, I believe what I am doing is called "hiding and hoping that it doesn't come up." I mentioned it once, in the context of "I need the car." But... I'm going to be on the couch, so they can't complain. Except they can't KNOW I'm on the couch... Bah. Parents.
Okay, I really feel I need to share something I find very, very odd and mildly disturbing. My dad so old-fashioned he holds firm to his belief that people should be allowed to take "defective" or unwanted newborns out to the rain barrel and hold them under until they drown.
Yeah, I assumed he was being extreme to make a point about freedoms too. I figured he was be hyperbolic. But I mentioned that right to die vs. abortion debate to him, and he reiterated that point, so I asked him. And he confirmed that if such practices were not illegal, he would have been willing to do that to his own progeny had we been obviously deformed. Has to be done within a few hours of birth, though, he said, as if that makes it better... I'm pro-choice. But that's infanticide, not abortion. I wonder if he would have been pro-exposure if he lived in Rome?
Honestly, I don't care if the kid has two heads and only half a brain between them, if you let it actually get out of the birth canal, there is NO EXCUSE, it is a human being and that's murder. What I like is that my dad's a Christian, too. Congregationalist, you know, that faith that descended from the Puritans.
Actually, wait, that means nothing. According to the Bible:
"If men strive, and hurt a woman with child, so that her fruit depart from her, and yet no mischief follow: he shall be surely punished, according as the woman's husband will lay upon him; and he shall pay as the judges determine. And if any mischief follow, then thou shalt give life for life." -- Exodus 21:22-23
"And if it be from a month old even unto five years old, then thy estimation shall be of the male five shekels of silver, and for the female thy estimation shall be three shekels of silver." -- Leviticus 27:6
Basically, a fetus or infant becomes a person when it's a month old, according to the Bible. Wow. Hmm.