Seriously, State of California, where is my money? My disability payments seem to have disappeared in to thin air, and yes, while the EDD phone center is useful in confirming that my last check went out at the end of January, it's not providing a lot of assistance with where the rest of my money is at, beotch. I'm *this close* to storming their offices, except I'm meek, hormonal and fearful that they will give me the minimum wage earner eye-roll and tell me 'lady where the hell you been, there's a budget crisis going on'. Yes? Well, there's a budget crisis going on chez K lady and we're about to go all Grapes of Wrath on your ass and start eating cheerios with breastmilk.
In other news, a few days ago a newborn was snatched from the very hospital where I had Lucy less than two months ago. Not some downtown County 'Southland' hospital where you imagine these things happening, no the chichi-la-la Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital where I couldn't take Lucy out of the room without her little ankle tag screaming bloody murder. The woman was apparently posing as a nurses aide and told the new Mum (whose baby was only a couple of hours old) that the child needed fingerprinting. Obviously she handed the baby over, as I did many times to many different nurses. They did eventually catch the woman, nearly 75 miles away and the baby was returned to the distraught parents but it's terrifying to think how close a call that was. Apparently the woman already has 4 children and had been telling her current boyfriend that she was pregnant, to which LK replied 'dude, there was no mistaking you being pregnant, he must be a moron'.
On the subject of being all meek and fearful, we were out for a family drive yesterday and rolled up to a stop sign while it was being graffitied by a local ne'erdowell. Bold as brass, right down town, traffic driving past left and right. As we drove past LK said 'we should do something' and I was thinking, yes, we should, but please don't start anything, I'm hungry, we're on our way to get lunch, the girls are sleeping, and more importantly I would hate it if you got in to a fight and died because I haven't sent the life insurance payment in yet.
I hate confrontation and LK is always chiding me for walking mutely past the high school students who like to eat lunch on our front lawn. I'm always afraid they'll retaliate by tagging our white building and instead I plot endless passive-aggressive counter-measures like setting the sprinklers on during lunch break or planting pricklier grass. Useless muppet that I am. Not LK though, no, he doubled back around the block, watched the graffiti kid walk in to a house, then called the police. Quite frankly I'd expected the police to cite LK for busybodying, but they were all over it (must have been a quiet day, no baby snatching that morning). They called later to say they'd sent the swat team round and after a brief skirmish the perp was shot dead for evading arrest. Not really, he admitted it and was issued a citation. I still don't know how I feel about this. I'm definitely ashamed of my 'not my problem' attitude, proud that I married the right man, and then again, not a little scared that property ownership has turned my sweet surfer-stoner husband in to a vigilante. Hmm.
On a lighter note, Anna keeps cracking me up by starting all her sentences with 'when Lucy becomes a human' as in 'when Lucy become a person she will love to listen to me sing'. She was also watching her favourite kids TV channel yesterday morning where they have a little cartoon montage about our new President (funny, I don't remember them having it when Bush was elected) and she bounced up and down and said 'Oh, Barack Obama, I love this show'.
So there you have it, a dashed-off synopsis of the last couple of days with no mention of uterine masses at all.