Monday I kept thinking about Candid Camera the TV show. Not the new one, the original.

One of my clients and I were trying to wade through a mess of paperwork at the DMV and one particular episode kept poking it's way into my psyche. In the epidose a guy walks into a bank. Unbeknownst to him all the tellers and other customers are in on the joke. He gets in one of the lines for a teller. His line is at a stand still while the other lines seem to be moving quickly. So he decides to change lines. Then the new line he's in is stagnant and the previous line is moving rapidly. Frustrated he changes lines again. This keeps happening for a while before they do the standard "Smile, you're on Candid Camera!"

I was at the DMV because Jane (not her real name) lost her purse and wallet. She swears someone stole it. I'm not so sure -- she loses absolutely everything. Even her toothbrush. Most people keep it ithe bathroom. She wandered around the house with it and lost it. And her comb. And her other purse. And her box of depends. And... well you get the drift. I digress... so she lost her wallet with all her identification in it. Her previous case worker had helped her get copies of some of her cards, but was having trouble getting her photo id. Now it's in my lap.

The DMV won't issue Jane a new ID until we bring in a copy of her marriange license. We wrote to the vital records office in Richmond but they sent back our request saying we had to send a copy of her DMV ID before they could release the marriage license. Right. Sure. Good luck.

So we went to the DMV to talk to them. Surely they would see how inane this whole thing is. Surely having Jane's birth certificate, her medicaid card, her medicare card, and proof of residency would be enough. She had gotten an ID 6 years earlier so they had her picture in their system. Couldn't they just look at the ID and confirm that she is who she says she is?

Apparently not.

I spent a good 10 minutes trying to explain how impossible this situation is. The DMV lady was very apologetic and sympathetic, but she couldn't give us an ID. Jane was getting frustrated and told the lady, "You know... I'm not a terrorist or anything. I promise." We got back in the car and Jane turns to me and says, "You know this is all because of 9-11, But I'm not a terrorist. I told her I wasn't. This whole thing doesn't make any sense."

How do you argue with that?

Happy Easter!

Or ... if you don't celebrate Easter -- Happy March 28th to ya! :o)

Woody (my partner) & Bugsy (my sis-in-law) love to celebrate Easter by watching all these old Jesus movies. By about 3 pm I was quite through with the Jesus movies. Don't get me wrong -- I'm a Christian and I hold Easter up as a holy day. Thing is -- after the THIRD time of seeing the passion it gets to be a teensy bit boring. (Sorry Jesus -- I'm sure it wasn't any fun for you either) And of course, it's hard not to be blasphemous by making fun of the movies. Like in one of them (I forget which now -- they've all blended together) the woman playing Mary -- Jesus's mom -- looks like Jesus' kid sister. Come on.... you couldn't find an older actress?

Finally in the late afternoon we took a break from the Jesus movies and watched an incredibly cheesy 7o's kids clamation movie about Easter. They tried to explain EVERY Easter tradition with just one story. Something about a bunny that takes eggs to a town without children but has to hide them from a bear by coloring them. And somewhere in there they shove in jelly beans, and singing hens and a bunch of stuff about trains. I was not paying close attention, so I'm not really sure how it all hung together in one plot.

Here's what I couldn't get over -- the hens are popping out eggs left and right and HELPING to put them in boiling water to make Easter eggs. On top of that they are singing and wearing cute little aprons. That's just wrong. What mother in her right mind would cheerfully dunk her child in boiling water? Gave me the heeby-jeebies.

I'm grinning like a fool. I can't help myself.

I just finished this light, fluffy, fun book called Can You Keep A Secret? By Sophie Kinsella. It's not gonna win a Pulitzer or anything, but it was damn good. Just my style -- romantic comedy meets clutzy scatterbrained gal trying to fit in. Great escape from reality book! It's the book that made me smile. Don't you love that? A really good book draws you in and takes you on a ride and when you get off you're different somehow. Today's different is grinning despite the dismal rainy day.

I read the "heavy" books in my book group. But I have to confess, I find them depressing. Real life if depressing enough -- we have so many major problems in this country not to mention the rest of the world. I need a break from it -- from thinking about clients who barely have enough money for food, or keep reliving their childhood molestation, or can't handle crowds because the voices start yelling in their heads that they ought to hurt themselves. Reality is heavy enough -- give me a beach read book with a bit of brain and I'm a happy gal!

You get what you pay for. *

I paid $14 for a haircut, so I got a hack job. But can I really justify paying $50 for a haircut that I'll hate? No matter where I get my haircut it's always wrong. I'm sure it doesn't help that I dread haircuts so much that I wait until I have the shaggy dog bangs before I go to get a "trim."

Here's the thing though, do you tell the stylist every little thing you want done or do you assume that she gets that when you say "trim" you mean "please cut it exactly like it was only shorter"?

I've tried both routes and neither one seems to insure success. When I give them specific instructions the stylists always looks at me like, "well, duh!" And yet, still crappy hair.

So last night I did a little of both. I made sure she saw the layers in my hair (not just a bob) but I assumed she saw that my bangs aren't just straight across, but rather curved on the sides. I gave her WAY too much credit. I'm still cursing this morning.


*I know there's some grammar rule about not ending with a preposition but that's the cliche.

I have a snack for your brain. I love little tidbits of information -- trivia, new words, interesting puzzles and puns, etc. To satisfy my brain munchies I bought a book called "Why Does Popcorn Pop" by Don Vorrhees.

My favorite brain snack so far = Carrots have only been orange for about two hundred years. According to my book, carrots originated in Afghanistan and were purple. "Through centuries of selective breeding, the color was gradually changed to white, yellow, and finally orange."

Who'd a thunk it?

This afternoon I looked at one of our residents and wondered if I would lose my job if I calmly glued her mouth shut. Not with super glue, just ordinary Elmer's. It wouldn't be painful. But maybe, just maybe, I could have a couple minutes of silence. I decided against it in the end. Her name will remain anonymous, but I'll call her Jane to make blogging easier.

Jane is our newest resident. She's a warm, funny woman and she loves to talk. Not just chatting with people about everything under the sun. No, I mean loves to talk as in doesn't stop to breathe. Because she has some MR her speaking style is a bit ... cyclonic. She asks a question, then gives what she thinks might be the answer, then asks the question again and then gives another possible answer. Before you can answer she shoots off on another tangent and begins to ask questions about it. She also has a habit of leaving out crucial sentence structure parts. By the time you've been at work for an hour, you're not sure what day it is, what time it is, or even what your own name is.

Jane is very sweet and very fun to be around. As long as you are around her in small doses. Or if she has an activity to keep her focused. Today we were doing fine until all the residents and I sat down to watch "Annie." I was expecting Jane to be quiet for a little bit. That's where I went wrong. The other residents seemed to have no trouble tuning Jane out. I, however, was not so fortunate. For each scene there was the question/answer/question/answer/new question sequence. It took all my patience to remain calm. I did it -- and was proud of myself.

I gotta tell ya though, when 7 pm came (time to go home) I was tuckered out. And glad that I have tomorrow off. Phew!

I've been having one of those days. You know the ones -- where everything seems to be conspiring against you. Although today things seem to be conspiring against people AROUND me. This morning Woody and Bugsy (my partner and her twin sister) were in an auto accident. Neither was hurt, but the car was totalled. A very big bummer since Bugsy ran a red light (so it's her fault) and our pockets are thread-bare these days. Then there were various minor inconveniences through out the day that aren't memorable enough to repeat. The thing is -- it's one of those days when I revisit humorous emails to cheer myself up.

Thank God for church ladies with typewriters. These sentences actually appeared in church bulletins or were announced in church services:

The Fasting & Prayer Conference includes meals.

The sermon this morning: "Jesus Walks on the Water." The sermon tonight: "Searching for Jesus."

Our youth basketball team is back in action Wednesday at 8 PM in the recreation hall. Come out and watch us kill Christ the King.

Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It's a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Don't forget your husbands.

Barbara remains in the hospital and needs blood donors for moretransfusions. She is also having trouble sleeping and requests tapes of Pastor Jack's sermons.

the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be "What Is Hell?" Come early and listen to our choir practice.

Potluck supper Sunday at 5:00 PM - prayer and medication to follow.------------The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon.

Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM. Please use the back door
entrance.

The Associate Minister unveiled the church's new tithing campaign slogan last Sunday: "I Upped My Pledge - Up Yours

I've moved again. I couldn't get my crimsonblog to work. I have no idea what I did to sabotage it -- and I can't seem to fix it. So here I am on Blogger. In all my glory.