Syllabus #200

 Wow!  Two Hundow!

There's just something about an arbitrary, meaningless numeric milestone that makes me swell with pride.

Also, Happy Mother's Day to specifically and especially the following people:  MY mom, my grandmom, my mother-in-law, Terry Gross, and Oprah.  Also, HMD to all caregivers and aspiring caregivers.  Every day I'm amazed when I wake up and my pets are still alive and seem to like me, so if you're shepherding an actual human person on their way to adulthood, you truly have all my respect.  

This week I had a new experience.  I am all about personal growth and leaving my comfort zone (am I though?) so I am grateful for this new thing that happened to me:

I got cat-called during the morning drop-off line.  At an elementary school.  By a weird guy I've never seen before, presumably not a parent.  He was, in fact, A literal scrub, as he was hanging out the passenger side of his best friend's ride.  Trying to holler at me.  He looked me dead in the face as the car slow-rolled over a speed bump, and in a monotone voice, said, "Nice legs."  He was gone before the full bizarre weight of it registered in my brain.  

Now it's time for a pop quiz.  Which of the following was I wearing to elicit this comment?

A) a skirt

B) booty shorts that said Juicy across the ass

C) a dress

D) loose-fitting jeans

If you selected answer choices A, B, or C, you are probably someone who blames a woman for being harassed or assaulted!  Bye, please leave.  If you chose answer choice D, you are correct and you have probably been the recipient of strange and unwelcome commentary about your body at times when you were not, in any way, shape, or form, inviting it.  I could have been wearing an It's Always Sunny Green Man body suit, a ball gown, or a Heidi Klum worm costume and somebody's still gonna get off on saying something weird to flex in front of his boyz.

Nice legs.  Ironically, the Philly Phanatic did actually grab my ass once.

---

Goals.

Analog Reading:

Still reading Hamnet.  My reading schedule is all off this week.  The book is compelling, I just haven't had much time to devote to it.  I have had some wild dreams about contracting bubonic plague as a result of reading this book, though.  

In one dream (which will be as fascinating to you as listening to a blow-by-blow of Uncle Carl's colonoscopy at Thanksgiving), Andy and I were at some kind of resort where he was golfing and I was about to go use the fitness center, but I suddenly didn't feel good.  I took myself to some kind of on-site clinic where the doctor took one look at me and ordered me to leave immediately because I had bubonic plague.  He said to go home and get in a milk bath, so I did, but we only had like half of a 1/2 gallon in the fridge, so I just dumped it in the bathwater and hoped for the best.  I fell asleep in the tub and woke up to Andy angrily pounding on the front door because I was supposed to pick him up from the golf course and I never showed up.  He had to walk all the way back with his clubs, and was pissed.  I trudged downstairs, covered in bulging sores and dripping milk-water, to explain what was happening, but Andy kept going on and on about what a great golf game he just shot and how it was ruined when he had to walk all the way home with his clubs.  I was like okok sorry, but GUY, I HAVE PLAGUE!  And then I found $5.