I am just in the most bizarre mood. Actually, it's what Charlotte and I used to call a mood flap. 

You see, when we were Girl Scouts together, one of the things we competed in was Morse Code. The first year I was in the troop, I wasn't what you'd call "good" at deciphering it. I was.... how do you say? Aah, yes. Bad. When I got the test, I translated a series of dots and dashes into "Mood Flap". It was actually "Good Luck". Uh, oops. 

I figured it would be something that wasn't obvious. Well as it turned out, it was a lame puzzle and I should have just shut up and guessed something banal. But "Mood Flap" sounded good to me, so that's what I figured it was.

Whatever, the point is, Charlotte and I started saying "mood flap" instead of mood. So I'm in a strange mood flap. 

Today, I went to the coffee shop down the street to get a -- check this out -- coffee. A woman there decided to pay me a random compliment. "I love your blouse," she said. Okay, that's fair, I love my blouse too. I smiled. But she wasn't finished. "It looks like it goes with everything."

Um, huh? My blouse isn't some neutral grey or beige thing. It's green. And it's not just one shade of green-- it's like six shades of green. And it's not just plain-- it's covered in roses. (Yes, green roses. Shut up. It's a cool blouse.) I call it my "Brussels sprouts blouse" because the green roses actually look like Brussels sprouts.

But the point of the story is, who the hell would think that my green Brussels sprout blouse "goes with everything"? Besides the Crazy Dog Lady, of course.  She's actually taken to wearing clear goggles (yes, GOGGLES) to work. Goggles, a bike helmet, and bag lady clothes. She truly is a sight to behold. My efforts to photograph her have been sadly thwarted, though.

Damn the man. 

I went and visited Grandma last night, who is doing much better than she has been recently. She was alert and talkative, and talking optimistically. While she was in the hospital, it was like she planned to die any moment. Seeing her give up hope was the scariest part. And now, she's talking two weeks into the future. It's not a lot, but it's sure something. 

I told her I was going to paint the car her favorite color, purple. She loved that. So did my Mom, who sees it as sort of a tribute. (Which it is.)  I'm also trying to make the car fun, and young, and spunky. Right now it's just... like... old. And beige. And boring.

I definitely need a cool car nickname once my car is purple. (Hey, there's an idea for a contest if I ever heard one.)  And a CD player, of course. While I'm at it, I'm also going to put a CD player in Abby's car. She loves music (her dream is to pick out the music for films, if you can believe it) and her CD player has been broken for far too long.

I'm also toying with the idea of putting in a sunroof. If it's not too expensive, I might do it. I've always wanted a sunroof. If I'm going to drive a 1991 Ford Escort, it's going to be as cool as I can possibly force it to be. Of course, the money for all this is supposed to come from the sale of the Geo Pet, and the Geo Pet is worth about $3.50. 

Anyone have a suggestion for a way to make the car cool? A CHEAP suggestion? 

I am getting way excited about my sendoff from this job. Not because I'm happy to leave (which I am, but I'm also scared to leave, so it balances out) but because I'm getting PARTIES and PRESENTS up the yin-yang.

When Charlotte and Maritza left, they each got one of those huge balloon baskets filled with cookies. When Charlotte left, Candy actually went all out and filled it with (fairly expensive) gifts in addition to the cookies. When Danielle left, Candy gave her a farewell luncheon. I am getting a luncheon on the day I leave, PLUS a balloon basket filled with cookies and gifts.  Since Candy is going on vacation for a few weeks, she's taking me out for lunch on Monday too. That's two lunches, a giant balloon, cookies and gifts. I am so excited.

Best of all, Joan gets to go pick out the gifts, and she asked me, "Um, so, you're getting a balloon basket. What do you want in it?" It would be nice to be surprised, but at least this way I won't get pricey decorative plates or something. I'll get art supplies or a CD-- stuff I really want. 

Of course, the best gift of all is the giant balloon. Wait, no, it's never having to see the Crazy Dog Lady again. Or maybe it's never having to worry about that fucking dress code again. Maybe that's the best gift. Or it could be never having to type another stupid insurance report as long as I live. That's a pretty good gift…

Well, the point is, I'm going to be showered with gifts of all kinds on August 11. And I can't freaking wait.  Woo!

Cassie is possessed by "da debbul" or something. She's suddenly become compelled to chew her perch in half. I have no idea when she decided on her new endeavor, but as of yesterday, she's almost halfway through. 

When she first started chewing on the side of her perch, I moved her mineral chew over there, too. "Hey, chew on this instead," I said to her.  Instead, she tilted her head (her trademark "what the fuck?" look) and moved over.

Yep, she moved to the middle of her perch and started chewing. Yesterday, when I realized her sinister plot, I put yet another mineral chew in the middle of the perch, right where she was closest to chewing the perch in half. "Curses, foiled again!" thought Cassie. 

But after this, I surrender. I give up. I'm out of bright ideas. If she decides she wants to turn her perch into two former perches that will just sit uselessly on the bottom of her cage… well, I'll let her. Maybe she's trying to minimize her possessions.  Perhaps she's registering some type of protest. Maybe she's joined a parakeet cult. Maybe she's making room for a Jacuzzi. 

She's an odd bird.

My mother has nurses and caregivers coming to the house now, to help take care of Grandma. And so far, they are all Filipino ladies. There's an organization that is made up of Filipino women who basically work as caregivers in hospice situations. Many of them were nurses in the Philippines, and they're working towards their R.N.

The one that was over last night was Terry. And listening to my mother talk to her was very, very funny. 

My mother is one of those people who thinks that people who speak with an accent can only understand English if you talk with an accent, too. And she tries to talk in simple sentences, which means she leaves out half the words. 

Terry turned out to be a nice lady, but unfortunately quite racist against Mexicans. She actually said, "the Mexicans are lazy" at one point. Even my mother balked at this. ("Not all Mexicans lazy," said my mother in her quasi-Filipino accent. "I know lots Mexicans dat work hard.") 

However, Terry did make a good point about the Mexican school system; they don't study English at an early age the way the Philippine people or French people or Dutch people do, and therefore are at a disadvantage if they want to come to America to work. 

I never really thought about that before, and now that I think about it, it makes no sense. English is not only the closest thing we have to a universal language, it's also the language of their neighbor to the north.  I'd wager that more schoolchildren study Spanish here than English over there (although I'd be interested in statistics on that).

It is very strange, however, to think that my sister and I, who were raised by my dad, are not his biological kids, and his biological daughter, who has his genetic code, did not meet him until she was in her 30s.