(Yes, I intended to write an entry for every day. Alas, my parents� net access died the day I got there, and thus I�m posting the paper journal entries I wrote instead a few weeks late. Sorry �bout that.)

12/28:

Okay, so the plan for today was to go pick up various medication in Pleasanton and then go to the nearby mall, where I could finally use one of my gift certificates from last year! (There is no Waldenbooks in my area.) I have been looking forward to the free book shopping (and malling) a lot. I figured we�d go in the early afternoon to get the drugs, then do a little shopping.

So, what I find out is now The Plan for today? Dad wants to go eat out in Oakland tonight. By all means, fine by me, BUT he wants to go very early. As in, that means no mall trip because he wants to go so early (arrive in Oakland at 4:30) so we can miss the traffic. According to Mom, "we can go to the mall after we eat." The second she said that, I just instinctively knew that meant no mall trip. I don�t mean that in a negative thinking way, it�s pure parental logic. I can�t imagine that Dad will tolerate driving from Pleasanton to Oakland BACK to Pleasanton and then home, especially after eating (i.e. 45-minute bathroom trip impending), especially when there�s a Barnes and Noble across the street from the restaurant. I asked Mom if a mall trip was really going to happen and she did a long pause and then said "We�ll play it by ear." That sure answers the question!

She�s figured out this is a journal, sadly, and then immediately got offended when I said I didn�t want her to read it. "You must be saying bad things about me." I ignored that (obviously, y�all know the answer to this) and said that she�s been known to get offended by things I had no idea would offend her, so how can I predict? (She got so pissed off at what people wrote in my yearbooks every year that I quit having anyone sign them, for example. Not worth the grief.) She then said "okay, fine, you have your own thoughts," and wandered off, but I still feel like I should hide this. I did get to typing up some entries today, and man, that was embarrassing, especially when you think you�ve found a few quiet minutes to type and then Mom comes in and starts wanting to go through the entire desk you�re working at, then Dad goes in to use the bathroom. I get very nervous at an audience, even if they say they�re not going to look.

I was due to get my Depo shot this week. They give you a 7-day (5-day, really, knowing HMO�s) window to go in and get it done, and I was horrified the last time I went in for a shot and the nurse told me my window this time was Dec. 24-31. "Oh CRAP," I said, "I can�t get it done then!" Too bad, that�s your window and you�re stuck with it.

Since I was out of town for the entire window for this next shot, plus having at least 2/5 of my window guaranteed wiped out for Christmas, I was freaking out all week. Mom said that she had to pick up pills for Dad this week and would take me along to get my shot at the Pleasanton clinic. I called to make an appointment in Pleasanton and they�re all "Oh, just come by and drop in anytime, up to 5 p.m.!" Mom said we�d go pick up the stuff this afternoon.

So today, what do the parents do? Why, take their own sweet time about leaving. Have lunch, watch the soaps, watch Naked Gun 2 1/2, fool with the laundry�. They don�t leave until 3:30, then they go to three different banks in town! We get to Pleasanton by 4:30 (remember, that�s when Dad wanted to be in Oakland!). And I have to go through the prescription line first, and it�s loooooong there ... I don�t make it to the women�s center until 4:55 p.m. And that�s when everyone�s LEAVING, because unbeknownst to us, they really close at 4:45. But I freak out at them, so they make me an exception. When I finally get in for the shot, I find out that despite what the phone people said, normally they would NOT let me get a shot at another facility. Again, I somehow got excused for this. (From now on, no WAY am I leaving town around when a shot�s due, regardless of what the HMO says.)

I was just so pissed at the HMO and my mom both. There was no need to be so goddamn LATE today! Had I not gotten the shot today, I would have been completely screwed.

By the way, guess where I just wrote this last part? In the car. It�s 5:30, and we�re in the midst of traffic. Definitely we won�t be returning to Pleasanton tonight. (Mom claims we�ll make it to Walden at SOME point before I leave.)

Ironically, the restaurant was half empty on a Friday night. Who woulda thunk it? At dinner, Mom spotted some girl holding a book of Mattie�s poetry and was compelled to bring him up once again. I said I just wasn�t relating, since I never nearly died, saw angels, etc. She actually didn�t get on me for that, which was a relief. The conversation later on went to how Reader�s Digest isn�t as good as it used to be, and I said the whole Mattie thing reminded me of how like every month RD has a story on some ill child triumphing over adversity, and by now it�s practically common. Ho-hum, it�s not so special any more. Mom seemed to agree with that!

I ended up asking her if she really liked throwing the NYD party, and she said she really did. I said, "But you get so cranky and yelly about it all day long."

"Well, if I only had some help..." she said.

"But I�m always doing everything wrong," I said. "That only ticks you off more. You�d probably still be bitchy if I did everything perfectly, though."

She didn�t say anything.

After that, we went to B&N for like two hours, and everyone browsed. Mom, perhaps feeling guilty for taking me into a bookstore knowing that I couldn�t afford to buy anything there, bought me some books in the end. What a sweetie.

Right now I�m watching this special on how the foster parent system sucks ass (coincidentally, two of the kids in it were featured in RD awhile back). Man. If I ever went insane and decided I wanted a kid, I�d much rather adopt a kid that already exists and needs a parent instead of birthing my own (shudder), but god, they practically torture foster parents and wannabe adoptive parents. How horrible.

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