Which Reminds Me

Yes, I do seem to recall that my two-headed Push-Me-Pull-You talking stuffed animal toy, part of Dr. Doolittle's menagerie, was among the items that disappeared from my closet during the time that Antonia was our maid. Toña was a surly mean-spirited person with a sullen aspect. It will be remembered that my mother fired the maid Toña after she found in the maid's room a suitcase stuffed full of stolen things that she was preparing to leave with. It was not because we were particularly attached to such inanimate objects that the maid was fired. It was because we had learned by sad experience that Antonia "Toña" could not be trusted to be set loose in our house while we were not at home. So not to be mean or anything like that but your campaign to gain sympathy for Antonia will ultimately accomplish not much other than kill me in the process, as if a maid deserves to replace a daughter. I cannot possibly imagine what happened to Antonia after that, whether she found another job or whatever, but I imagine that perhaps her life was difficult  because we certainly could not be counted on to give her a good reference. It's not like I am angry with her still but these matters are out of my control. Not to be mean or anything, but your efforts to reduce me to the level of Antonia will ultimately not succeed. Dreary horrid Antonia was only the hired help so we are not required to listen to her verbal darts all of the time. We can disregard and dispose of Antonia. Obviously we cannot say the same thing about our stupid family members.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, there really ought to be some nice and polite way for me to explain that I am actually not interested in socializing with those prison trash whiners Jack and Lisa. There ought to be some nice and polite way for me to explain to Max that his butt was kicked to the curb at least as far as I am concerned because although Max barks very loudly, he has no legal documentation to back that up. There ought to be some nice and polite way for me to explain that I have no knowledge and no personal connection whatever to Mexico, although I did live there for one year. Those Mexicans third graders were sort of mean to me when they suddenly attacked this little white girl without warning for no particular reason, just that I am white. I don't remember much. Mexico is a scary place. I never made any promises and I never will. It all depends.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, the tenant farmer will tell us when — the scheduled day and hour — when it will be most appropriate for the gas and oil inspectors to conduct their occasional test of the land's underground mineral prospects. However, it is not for the tenant farmer to refuse the test. You will allow access for the test. The law allows for access to the land, giving the tenant farmer some discretion in the scheduling of the test so as not to interfere with the harvesting of the crops or whatever it is that farmers are doing there, whether or not they actually own it or are only renting. If you are renting, the property owner may play some role in making the arrangements with you. I really don't have a very clear picture of that or any direct connection to it. I am not connected to the farmer so I really wouldn't know. Neither am I the one who has commissioned the testing, nor am I the rights holder who would be paid a lease fee by the gas and oil people. So all of this commotion is just a huge and meaningless distraction to me. So if some political busybodies are poking their noses into your personal life and ransacking your house that wouldn't be us. That is all I can say about that. I cannot promise you that there are not political busybodies out there doing that but I doubt that I would be able to help you with that any time soon. I have no control in these matters. It's just the system.

Which Reminds Me

I must say that I had no role whatsoever in the disappearance of Lisa but I cannot be sorry that she is gone, or at least that she is not here. Do you really think that I am so stupid as to not realize that Lisa is trashing me behind my back all over the place? I know what the Bible says about how I should do good to those who persecute me, and Lisa certainly does quality as a persecutor of me, so I am obligated by Christian duty not to say anything publicly about that Lisa and her wicked ways. And yet I cannot help but overhear these verbal darts launched at me by Lisa. It is just a constant rain of verbal darts from Lisa and her people and yet as a Christian I am just supposed to smile and pretend that everything is just Okie-dokie. As if. Ha!

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely recall that that in college there was a cheerleader named Grace, one of those Asian people who think that everyone should look uniformly brown and black or risk being ridiculed as a ludicrously multi-colored blue-eyed white person. Grace was from Hawaii, a boring state of no interest to me, a place that I have never visited. Maybe I did make the mistake of saying something to Grace about Hawaii. Whatever. So much water under the bridge. Anyway, personally, I am not against vacationing in Hawaii if that is what you where you want to go. Judging from photos, I am sure that there is much tropical vegetation there to provide beautiful tropical scenery. Nevertheless, there are 49 other states in the United States of equal importance, all deserving of my equal attention for other reasons and Hawaii is a late-coming dependent of the Union, not a key foundation stone of it. Hawaii might be a beautiful place to live even for a few years, as some of my relatives did, but I have never been there so I really wouldn't know anything about that, nor would I care much about learning more about that insignificant state when 49 other states are so much more important to me. I really don't care that much about Hawaii. I suppose that if someone offered me a job there I would not be averse to living there for a while, but I doubt that I would stay there permanently. Heaven is my home, I'm just passing through, as the song says.

Which Reminds Me

I think it might have been Anna, a Latina and former employee at Vida Publishers who briefly attended the CLC church for a short time, who once sang at CLC, "God Will Make A Way." She left this area and moved to Texas where she was attending T.D. Jake's church there the last I heard. I haven't heard anything else about Anna since she moved away to Texas. Sometimes God makes a way for people to move to Dallas, which seemed to work for Anna, while Dallas might be a place of no interest to others such as myself. I really wouldn't know anyone there. Dallas sounds to me like just another lonely miserable place that I could go but probably never will.

Which Reminds Me

Anyway, I could not care less what that mental retard Byron does with his pathetic life. He was nothing but a complete stranger to me, and anyway North Carolina is not a state of interest that I should let those cloghoppers throw me around, as if I ever had any connection there, which I obviously never did.

Speaking of poetry, I think that if I did have a husband I might want my children to resemble him at least in part. But anyway, Byron was never my husband that he should have any rightful claim to negate or deny this point in any respect. He was only a stupid cheater who never had any rightful claim on me, nor will his writings ever gain any literary prizes with such a stupid attitude so prominently on display.

Which Reminds Me

I find it utterly ridiculous that the Cox family is here screaming at me because it so happens that their surname is mentioned in some obscure poem written by Saint Columba, the founder of I Collum Kill, which appears in some obscure Irish/Scottish history book that no one ever heard of. This provides further evidence that Byron in particular, is a mentally retarded idiot undeserving of serious consideration. So just because you hail from the town of Lockwood, New York, that does not mean that we care about your silly agenda composed mainly of literary ruins. Nothing you say makes any sense whatsoever.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely recall the existence of Rick Snell, a dull and boring person of no interest, remembered mainly for being a forerunner or prototype for the "Dumb and Dumber" characters of the infamous movie. I have not seen Rick Snell since I left there after 12th grade, except for that one time that the music group visited here for a couple of days maybe a couple of years later, and I actually could not care less if I ever see him or them again. I heard that he married some Latin girl there of whom I have no memory. You cannot spend all of your time treating me as if your ugly white stepsister and then expect to care later about renewing acquaintance with such annoying people. I do recall that Rick's stepmother was a rather shrill Latin dog of no intelligence. It was a bit awkward for us to have the snarky Snell family hanging around there pretending to be connected to us. They really were not so much our friends as an uncomfortable nuisance.

Which Reminds Me

It was on the first or nearly the first day of high school, in ninth grade, in study hall downstairs, that the teacher was calling roll and when he called out name he said that my name sounded sexy. He meant to be friendly but I will admit that I was so nervous and shocked that a complete stranger would say something like that in such a familiar way that when I answered "present" or "here" there was a distinct chill in my voice, perhaps to discourage future such comments, and I think that I did succeed in discouraging that, even though the teacher did seem a bit shocked at my cold response. Someone in the study hall noticed that and continues to remind me of that, which gets very annoying because, I mean, really, who is not nervous on the first day of high school? Give me a break. Which teacher was that anyway? I really don't remember him. He looked like Bernie Monserrat, but I don't remember that name. Was he substituting that day or our regular teacher? It is very fuzzy in mind. Anyway, you are too exaggerated. I was just nervous. Give me a break. You are too CRUEL.

Which Reminds Me

Oh, ha ha ha! Am I hearing this right? So you think that wearing blue jeans daily as your self-appointed school uniform qualifies you as a police authority on all subject matters of potential conflict even though your shade of blue more closely resembles that of a coal miner or blue-collar worker's gear than any sort of authority figure, plus you have no badge, no whistle, no hat. Just because Lance might have been wearing blue jeans that day, having that hippie-flower child look of his, even though he was not holding his guitar at the moment, that did not make him an authority on religious matters. Obviously I have no idea who came up with that scheme. I would only be guessing that maybe you were not a Christian, in which case your personal bias would tend to favor Lance's presentation, even while persons of the devout Christian variety would strongly disagree with Lance as well as you on this point. When we once visited my cousin's junior high school in California we were shocked to see almost everyone wearing the blue jeans uniform, so just wearing blue jeans nothing special. Blue jeans are comfortable for casual days once you get used to that, I will admit. Even so, I just think that you are obfuscating the point because you don't wish to be confronted with religious arguments on points that make you personally uncomfortable. Yes, it is a complicated subject and I do think that Miss Marken's ninth grade honors English class is perhaps not the appropriate place for personal determinations of this nature. But anyway there is such a thing as freedom of speech and it was vinteresting to hear Lance's peculiar discussion, even though I might not agree with him in terms of religious belief. Anyway, you can't really control what people are going to say in their English oral reports and also the various ways that people might react to that.

Which Reminds Me

To make matters even more confusing, we have this catty Episcopalian Heather, another high school classmate of U.S. representation, pretending to be a Christian and yet actually agreeing, quite loudly in fact, with Lance in contradiction to the actual teachings of Christianity in regards to the Virgin birth of Christ. So that unfortunately tended to confirm the racist brown groupies in their deluded belief that only they are the true Christians in this picture, in contrast with the clueless white people whom they assumed to be mostly Episcopalians. To further confuse the picture, we have the Episcopalians claiming that only they can represent the U.S. in official matters, in contrast to the U.K., an officially Christian country where official representatives can be presumed to be indoctrinated in the Anglican doctrines of Christianity to some degree, unlike the U.S. where no doctrinal standard applies anyway, while if you actually do have some faith you may be judged a bit too simple-minded to handle the complications of higher office. So that could be a useful political wrench for someone's purpose of whatever intention. I am just saying what I heard.

Which Reminds Me

How many times do I have to explain that it was in Miss Marken's 9th grade English honors class that Lance, in his report on the bull of Greek mythology, digressed to the subject of the Virgin birth, which he clearly disbelieves, and said so in many words of a shocking nature, making some points that obviously did not endear him to Christians of any faith? Obviously I do not appreciate some brown Catholics trying to make that a racial question by dumping me into the same garbage bin as Lance and his gang of faithless white American groupies just because I happen to also be a white U.S. citizen high school classmate as opposed to a Latin Catholic high school classmate. Did I ever hang out with Lance's groupies? No. Even though Lance seemed very cool in a high school way, he was too wicked to be taken seriously at that time. And are there not also some faithless Catholics out there blending into the brown wallpaper? Possibly. Anyway, I do not recall myself ever discussing this point with Sylvia or Kathy or other high school classmate, that she would have anything intelligent to say by way of explaining this point on my behalf. You cannot just jump to such conclusions without giving me a chance to explain what I actually thought about Lance. I might feel more sorry for those wicked brown groupies such as Kathy and Joanne if they weren't such obvious cheaters.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, all of this hubbub does make me wonder what part of GET LOST does the Faulkner tribe of Mississippi not understand? I could not care less about those Dust Bowl novels that really have no bearing on the reality of my life. I never did get around to reading that "Grapes of Wrath" book and I doubt that I ever will. Winning a Nobel Prize is not something that you can ever plan on. Such rewards can only happen accidentally after having done something worthwhile with your life. Didn't Falkner get a "D" in English and yet won a Nobel Prize because his books captured something of the spirit of that time, not because there were any facts involved? Anyway, not to worry. The canneries of the California coastline are still there humming along just fine without me around to gum up the works. The cannery novels have all been written and there is nothing more of interest to be said about that. Perhaps someday the journalists will get around to exposing how the Faulkners sold their literary legacy to gain Viking baubles. Anyway, whatever. None of that is my problem.

Which Reminds Me

And am I some sort of junkyard to be harvested by the filthy rich Faulkner tribe? Just because Faulkner's novel happens to feature a fictional character named "Uncle John," that does not mean there ever was any resemblance to reality in that novel, never mind about the Nobel Prize. Certainly there is no Prize-winning literature with the Harris name on it to justify her loudly clamorous crowing on this point. Some people are too busy flapping their own mouths to pause long enough for the reflection necessary for the writing of books. Anyway, there is a big wall between fiction and non-fiction that cannot be crossed over by just any clueless busybody motormouth.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, the controversial subject of artificial children was also discussed in the dorms at SCC with similar results. I cannot imagine myself ever doing that but the option does exist, a temptation for those wealthy women who demand children at all costs.

Which Reminds Me

I remember when I was living in California at one time I was rooming in the 1980s, one of my roommates was a person named Anne, and this Anne, who was from Huntington Beach, I can't remember her last name at the moment, who I remember her saying that if she did not get married she might take matters into her own hands and get herself a child by artificial means. I don't know happened to Anne later, whether she did that or not, but that was a strange and rather shocking thought to my mind. I could not imagine myself ever doing that but then again, well, come to think of it, didn't the Virgin Mary submit to the will of God so that the child Jesus would not be born of the will of man but of the will of God. It is hard for us humans to understand the full significance of the virgin birth, and yet there would no Christmas without the virgin birth of Jesus. In all of these two thousand years since that time, the virgin birth has remained a most sacred mystery. It has only been in the last 20 or 30 years that suddenly hundreds, maybe thousands of children all over the world have been born to anonymous sperm donors, possibly even some to virgin mothers. Who knows? This is because of recent advances in scientific research have made the practice of artificial insemination possible and affordable to wealthy persons wanting children. Who am I to say what those people should or should not have done? Why are you asking me? Who am I to say how society should manage this new phenomenon? Just because Anne made this comment to me, that does not mean that I would know how to properly comment on such a controversial subject, so easily twisted into some other thing I don't recognize. I had not given that much thought because, really, it would not be practical for me, not being so financially independent as to experience that firsthand by taking on a dependent. But it certainly is food for thought, this new phenomenon that most certainly could affect society in ways that we perhaps cannot fully imagine at this time.

Which Reminds Me

I wouldn't think of saying anything else, but since I can't stop the rain, I might as well note the peculiar notions of the Saword family, who seem to imagine themselves as the only persons able to Say (a) Word on any subject. That whiny little crybaby, whose name was Jackie, was at least adopted by them so perhaps she imagines she has an excuse for trying our nerves with similar shrill screeches. But I am only a schoolmate of theirs so I do not have to take them home with me and listen to them all of the time. I left the SayWords back there in the schoolyard where I remember them last and see no reason to change this orderly scheme of things, not after all of that Canadian chaos. How ridiculous. If Dawn and company cannot forgive my one or two little outbursts, and in fact blew themselves up into a colossal Anglo-Saxon nuisance, hiding themselves behind a veil of stupid representation, there would be no reason for me to dignify their ridiculous accusations with anything resembling these bizarre imaginings propounded by them. That was just not the way I remember things. Not even close. Sorry.

Which Reminds Me

Carol has  lot of nerve accusing me of something. Who knows what other games she was playing behind my back. Should I feel guilty that her head is probably full of racy French literature that I wouldn't know anything about? There she is pretending to represent higher education, and the only spokespeople presuming to represent her are a bunch of burned out rock stars whose music careers are definitely on the downhill side of everything, rock stars who had their day and were left behind in the scenery to eat our dust, rock stars partly made of Guatemalan corn tortillas I presume. Ha ha ha! So maybe those rock stars have lots of money but they only spend it on themselves. It is not like they would ever do us any favors which is why I would brush them off as not to be taken too seriously. There is more to life than high school.

Which Reminds Me

It certainly was not my idea to play spin the bottle. I never would have thought of that but as I was visiting at Carol's house and Carol had a bunch of people from the neighborhood in her front yard and Carol decided that we should play this game, it would seem sort of awkward not to play along to some degree. I don't remember anyone taking their clothes off. Maybe one guy took off his belt.  Even so, I did not like being put in that position of feeling myself obligated to play along with this game of which my parents would really not approve if they had known. Carol is not very picky about who her friends might be and what games she wants to play. I would caution against getting too involved with the Sancho Panza family as they are sort of weird and two-faced.

Which Reminds Me

And how is it that complete strangers are getting in my face and commenting on personal subjects such as how I spend my money and so forth? Who are you to question me in any way? You are nothing in my opinion, just a stupid busybody who happens to have heard some bit of gossip from some ignoramus and twisted everything around into some weird configuration not reflective of any reality of which I am even vaguely aware. You sell me out a redhead Yankee slave of these mean and nasty U.K. Anglo-Saxon dogs to gratify your Chicano La Raza voter base and then you question why there is no profit involved for the U.S. What is wrong with you stupid people anyway? I refuse to entangle myself in these ridiculous arguments of no interest to me. Get off my back!

Which Reminds Me

Yes, maybe I should feel sorry for this delinquent trash Dr. Cruz, but whether she ought to submit her butt to Teen Challenge control is beyond the scope of my commentary. I cannot imagine why anyone would be even thinking about that but since you are begging all these questions, I have to imagine that some demonically controlled people might see it that way.

Which Reminds Me

I might be a bit cranky but I don't think that I ever attacked an officer. I will not admit that much guilt. I might be guilty of some things but not everything. I don't appreciate often find myself being "baited" when obviously I sort of know that is a play on words, our distant cousins' surname being Bates. So obviously I always find it a very bad joke, in very poor taste, whenever I find myself "baited."

Anyway, am I some sort of goddess that I should sacrifice my life and personal happiness to cover up the wickedness of a shrill hag named Stephanie? No, the sacrifice of me was not necessary. God forgives her anyway so why should I be involved in any way? And anyway, I find it unbelievably weird that Edmundo would name his own daughter after that mean and nasty Anglo-Saxon U.K. dog. But then again maybe I am confused. Maybe he had some other Stephanie in mind. I really wouldn't know.

And anyway, didn't that Connie Sol have quite the rotten attitude? I really don't like them that much but they are my high school classmates so I must be polite anyway. I really don't care what they do. Need I explain the misery of high school?

And why all this nonsense about TWA vs. Panam? Am I a stewardess that I should serve you dinner? I really don't like to be distracted this way. It gives them too much control and you are helping them too much. It gives the mistaken impression that they are always right when actually they are only distracting attention from their own mistakes. I think they should learn to stop bothering me and get their own lives underway.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, these La Raza people seem to be very credulous in the notion that Stephanie is somehow connected to British royalty just because she is from the U.K. Ha ha ha! I don't actually recall anyone ever saying that. I do vaguely recall Stephanie yapping about how she spends her summers in Scotland where she chafes at the strictures imposed by her arrogant snooty relatives there. She prefers being in America where people are not so strict. So that is about all that I would be able to remember about that. But just because Stephanie was yapping in that politically angling way of hers, that did not mean that I was so credulous as to believe that America has no rules. That was just Stephanie yapping. Also, was there some reason to be impressed because Stephanie has proven that the Anglo-Saxon race has its not-so-bright lower-tier low-class citizens just like every other race? So?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I wasn't going to say anything, but it is a bit awkward to see California district overrun by these Chicano warheads. I do not recall Rich being popular during college. Who ever voted for him? Wasn't he a part of that fringe Chicano nuisance, those surly and sullen La Raza people who are always so full of themselves and really not much else? And wasn't Ronald his evil twin brother? I do not recall much in the way of specific details on the creepy Rich & Ron Chicano Warhead Show, only some vague impressions. So it is bit awkward to think that Rich would ever ask me to explain "them." Was I ever invited to their private parties, that I would have a wealth of information to provide on this subject? No, obviously not. My mind just goes blank on this subject. Really, I maybe don't like them very much, but also I don't necessarily see going Episcopalian as a real solution to this problem. That might be someone else but it wouldn't be me.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is always so amazing to people how these bubbly socialite blondes go around chatting with every Tom, Dick and Harry who happens to cross their path and with no ill consequences. Everyone just thinks that she is so nice and friendly and it makes her so popular with everyone because she said hi to some man who just happened to be walking nearby there even if a person of no interest otherwise, just because she is so friendly, and isn't that what everyone is supposed to do if you follow her example? We are told to be more friendly and smile and talk to people. So why was it that when I said something to Rick Morris in the dorm lobby he behaved as if he were having a heart attack. Didn't I know that he does not speak to females who are not his girlfriend? Oh, well, whatever. I had always thought of him as a pompous idiot, and if he is going to react that way, well, even more so.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I suppose that it is a bit awkward for me, these vicious nasty twins pretending to be my high school classmates. With friends like that, I certainly would have no need of enemies. They do a great job of ruining everything without any help from me. What would these pagans know about Christian love and friendship? Nothing, obviously. It's not like I would have a chance to tell them anything, the way they have everything rigged in their favor behind my back. They already think they know everything there is to know about everything and my existence will not be needed. So why should I exert myself to contribute to my own misery?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, that was so mean what we three girls did to that poor beggar, how we concocted a mixture of vinegar and cooking oil and other things not drinkable and put it all in a bottle and had the maid give it to the beggar standing on the corner. What were we thinking? Was that supposed to be funny? I really don't remember how that happened. And the beggar was not happy with the bitter taste of our gift, needless to say. He could never get past the front door of our house and yet we played such a mean trick on him. Other beggars would at least get a banana or other piece of food if they came to our front door but that beggar only got a rude surprise, and he wasn't even knocking on the front door. Well, truth be told, he really should get a job and not stand around on street corners in ragged clothing waiting for handouts. He should manage more wisely whatever centavos he can get and not spend it all on booze, stumbling and swaggering around drunk as a hoot owl, which obviously is how these guys end up penniless and walking from house to house chanting with that plaintive tone, "Una limosna por el amor de Dios," as we all had heard. But, well, even so, that did not justify our mean trick. Two wrongs don't make a right, needless to say. So, anyway, I have confessed my sins to Jesus and He forgives me even if you don't, and Jesus is all that matters in the long run. "No man comes to the Father but by me," as Jesus says.

Which Reminds Me

So someone out there perhaps is asking me whether I was aware that Heidi O'Farrell from college might be related to Michael O'Farrell, an Irish whiner from high school. Whether or not it were so, I have no idea why I should care. Someone is pointing out that Heidi married a certain Mr. Baker who is descended from China missionaries, so she got her missionary kid connection by marriage whereas I got mine by natural birthright, as if, not that I had thought of it that way until someone noxious busybody points this out to me. Even so, I see no reason why I should make the effort to try to impress this Irish-Swedish caballers who only care about themselves and their own personal glory. It is not like they would ever give me any credit for anything even if I did happen to do something right in the first place. So, as I was saying, I fail to see why I should care.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I do vaguely recall the existence of college classmates by the names of Heidi O'Farrell Baker and her Drama club pals, Mark Thallander and his music club pals, etc. etc. However, I cannot say that I remember very much specifically about them. To pose as an authority on the subject of such unfamiliar college classmates would be quite a stretch as, well, I really don't know them very well as we never really talked, and anyway I really would not have much to say in terms of whatever they do in the future, as I admittedly could not care less. I believe myself entitled to have my own distinct opinions on various subject matters. Nevertheless, I believe there is no law requiring that I share my thoughts and opinions with every Tom, Dick and Harry on the planet. Many things have passed through one ear and gone out the other side of one's head without necessarily requiring comment from me. Whatever. So judge not lest ye be judged yourself, as the Bible says. And who is judging who in this picture anyway?

Which Reminds Me

I thought I had already explained this enough already. There is really nothing interesting to tell. We organized a hiking expedition. I had enjoyed it so much the previous time having gone with a group from Bill Bright's Christian organization and had talked about that so I think it was my mother who organized another expedition to share the experience with others also. And we invited Max along because he was my Sunday School teacher at church and maybe I am guessing my parents thought we needed an older, more mature native guide along so that we would not be just some white children out there on the mountainside all alone. So then just to be conversational I mentioned how beautiful the mountain view was from this angle, halfway up the trail, on such a sunshiny day at least at the moment. So then later, after we got back home, John Bueno called my mother to tell her that I should be confronted about my use of obscene words, and then my mother came and told me what I had said and I remember I was standing at the door of my bedroom and saying something like, "Oops!" because I just thought I was sort of like commenting on the weather, like what a lovely day, sort of. But given that Spanish is not my first language anyway, in addition to not having any notion of these unique Chilean slang terms, well, these language mistakes happen all the time. So that was embarrassing but whatever. So hopefully these people would graciously not ask me to embarrass myself by having to explain my mistake when I was not even sure how exactly that happened anyway. My mind just goes blank on this point. Nothing but mountain views come to my mind. So it is a bit weird that Max went out and used that to pump himself up into some Dutch monstrosity. I wasn't going to say anything about him, but this whole thing has gotten so ridiculous. It just wasn't that important.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, that was lame, trying to throw me to Massachusetts, as if. I actually have no connection whatever to Cape Cod and New England generally, only read about it in the newspapers and magazines like everyone else. I cannot imagine who they were thinking of, certainly not me.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it seems that dumb blonde jokes have fallen out of fashion along with those jokes about how many Pollacks it takes to screw in a light bulb. In high school, "Uncle" Roy regaled us all with a boatload of this type of humor, himself being a Pollack so for that reasons perhaps feeling himself allowed to repeat that stuff everywhere, unlike us. Even so, we were required to laugh at these jokes no matter what they were about, even if streakers were involved somehow, don't ask. So if I did express some protest when Terry called me his "red heifer," which I did, I would just be considered such a poor sport. Not to overdo the protest, I will just not be there later to figure out what that meant. Ask him yourself.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, that was a funny note that someone left in the science textbook. Maybe it was Jody Houk who left a note there and encouraged the next textbook holder to continue the tradition of writing in the textbook something about the previous holder of it. I showed it to Sammy and he also thought it was funny. A few months later Sammy asked, before he left, if I was going to do that and he seemed disappointed when I said no because I really didn't know what else to say that could be funnier than that and also when I try to be funny usually it just doesn't work for me. So I think maybe Sammy was disappointed that I did not do more of that but anyway it was only a science textbook.

Which Reminds Me

I don't remember our fellow missionaries in El Salvador, the Stewarts, ever mentioning to us their family connection to the Walker missionaries of Peru. I am not sure when or how that happened nor am I able to understand why I should care, nor why the MKs of South America got so riled up as to react by throwing me to Brazil, as if that would solve anything.

Which Reminds Me

Several years ago I received a message from Carole Hultgren (MK-Brazil) saying that she was throwing me to Brazil, to somehow replace her there, because I once briefly worked for her Dad at one job I had for two years, while she was chosen to mother and raise Nathan's children. In case Brazil did not get my message, I am not interested in getting myself thrown to Brazil. It is hard me to understand but a word here and there of Portuguese, much less why I should care about Brazil when there are nearly 200 other countries of the world, all with their unique problems and financial needs that need my attention, as if I could stretch myself that far. I have not much connection to Brazil nor any idea why I should care. I leave the job of caring for Brazil's orphans to that fat and ugly benefactress Sharon, who does speak Portuguese and is as self-centered as any Brazilian could be, as if Brazil were the center of the universe. Nor do I care in the least about Carole, who later shared Nathan's time in jail on charges of illegally obtaining drugs, not that I would have mentioned this if she weren't so eager to spit in my face.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is hard for me to understand why these nasty rich people are always screaming at me, as if there were some reason to be jealous of their rotten attitudes. I couldn't care less about those snarky rich people who are so full of themselves. Yes, I suppose it would be fun to play the role of Santa Claus, if only I had millions of dollars on hand to dole out for the funding of orphanages and clinics and so forth. In such a scenario, with money bags bulging, I am sure that I would have friends and defenders all over the place. However, when I am not even able to pay my own way independent of my parents, obviously the role of benefactress is not something that I am able to contemplate. And even if I did imagine that, it might not mean very much. It might mean, as for some people I know, such as Susie and Sammy and Sharon, that my father had died young and I was collecting life insurance payments and Social Security or pension monies to supplement any salary that I might earn. So is that lucky? Only for the beneficiaries. That actually means nothing to me. This conversation is irrelevant.