Never mind the fact that she’s a good old softball playing lesbian mom; which is not something she announces to patients, but something I know because of the two degrees of lesbian separation in my particular Brooklyn neighborhood; my doctor rules because she takes the time to figure shit out.
First and foremost, she rules because I can have dairy. I CAN HAVE DAIRY!!! After the appointment I went directly to a bakery and devoured a pecan bar. Ahhh, glorious butter. How I missed thee. I know that she didn’t make me not lactose intolerant, but I’m giving her the credit anyway.
She thinks it is gastritis because of my two cheats that involved alcohol. And guess what? Gastritis goes away! That means that one fine day I will be able to eat everything again. She rules.
Now get this… she looked at her computer. Then she looked at me and said, “Do you like licorice?” Really? Shhheeeaaw. I love black licorice. If given the opportunity, I’ll eat a whole bag of those licorice rolls. Give me Good and Plenty and I’m a happy gal. Then she said, “I’m going to treat this herbally.” She rules. So I have to take this licorice-like substance called DGL. Diglicorizedsomethingsomething Licorice. I need to dissolve a pill or two under my tongue on an empty stomach each morning for two months. And that’s that. I admit that the DGL is a little nasty. But it is nasty in a licorice way, and I think it will grow on me.
(Well, I still can’t have chocolate, coffee or booze for a while, but forget that. Give me cheese! Ice cream! Cupcakes with buttercream frosting. Sigh.)
On another note, my arranged work marriage is still dangling. You may recall that my boss told me I could sit in on the interviews. Yeah, right. They hired one woman who I did get to interview and chat with. But there are two third grade CTT teachers who need to be hired. I didn’t really click with the woman we hired, but I could definitely work with her. Then I sent an email out to half (because I got too lazy to go through the rest of my email contacts) of the people I thought might know someone, asking if they knew anyone who might want the job. Another, entirely different softball-playing lesbian mom sent my email to a friend on her team, who sent me her resume. I met her for coffee on Monday and really, really liked her. But when I brought the resume in to my boss, she seemed to have her heart set on someone else she had yet to interview. Flash forward to yesterday, when another administrator waltzes in to my classroom with an extremely-young woman and says, “This is E, we’re probably going to hire her for the third grade CTT.” Nice meeting you, person-I-didn’t-get-to-interview. I was on a prep, too, so I totally could have been sitting at the interview I didn’t know about. I’m still mad about that.
First I went and ranted with the other third grade CTT gen ed teacher, who they also said could sit in on the interviews, and who also did not interview E. Then I went in to the room where all three administrators were sitting and sort of stared at them. Then I said, “So, if you are going to hire this women, how will you decide who works with whom? I don’t feel like I got to meet her. I feel like I rode the elevator with her.” They laughed and said, “We still have one person to interview.” And they pulled out my softball girl’s resume. OK. Well, they may be interviewing her to humor me. Which I think I maybe appreciate. But I’m not sure.
There’s more. Yeah. This morning, I was sitting in my room paralyzed by the amount of packing and cleaning I needed (and still need) to do, when A, a new fifth grade teacher who came through the same hiring tube as the possible-hire E, walked into my room. I thought she was going to talk up E to me, but no. She said that the school may not be able to hire anyone new, and she may be my bride-to-be. Now let me tell you about A. She rocks. I have admired her teaching from afar. She asked me about my teaching style and I told her how it is all about community-building for me. I do a lot of conflict resolution. I like the kids to do the work. I hate when subs come in and tell the kids what to write, or tell them how to solve a math problem. I don’t mind if they talk, as long as they don’t get loud. “Me, too!” It was a good first date. We agreed on almost everything, except that she is apparently very neat and I am very not. But I don’t embrace my chaos. I would love to be more organized. I’ve just never really internalized organization.
Bottom line? All of the possibilities are good ones. They expect to find out tomorrow if they have the money to hire mystery woman, E, or if I get to have a second date with A. I don’t know if my softball woman ever set up that interview, though. It should be good. I’m hoping it will work out. Because I would love this to work out well.
Now excuse me. I’m going to go have some ice cream.