Part Deux

Let me get some housekeeping out of the way. A very smart, and very sophisticated Jewish friend of mine told to me that my two references to "Jewish" in the last post were a bit "chilling" for him. This surprised me because since he's a published writer I thought my bad grammer and spelling mistakes would chill him most.  I told him - I only included the jokes because Judy is, in fact, Jewish and there are comedic things about that just like there are comedic things about me being Catholic, or a SAHM, or a hippy raw milk drinker, or any crazy shit about me. However, I am no Sarah Silverman, just a goyische girl who may not be able to make these jokes. I don't mean to offend and if I had to marry a son to anyone other than a good Catholic girl I would hope she'd be Jewish because Protestents are really no fun.

So, back to the story...

Yesturday, David came with us. I picked him up at work and as handsome as this guy is, I wish I had reminded him to dress up a little that morning (he's a fashion-free Engineer in a casual work enviroment). We picked up James and then I drove around the block five times trying to find a spot where I could parallel park the mini-van. This annoyed my precision driver husband and the annoyance escalated when I had no money for the meter and he was determined to find some change in the abyss of the van. I told him that I would just get a $10 ticket and it was no big deal... but it was big deal to him because he reminded me that I have never had just a $10 ticket because I never do anything in a timely manner and before I knew it, I'd be in handcuffs in the back of a constable's car making tearfull phone calls to my lawyer brother (yes, this actually happened and it's quite a story). God intervened, and we discovered that the meter was dead.

We entered the courthouse and got in line to go through security. As I was waiting I scanned the loby for either my attorney or team Sheindlin-Radley. I spotted the duo waiting by the elevators. The curls where still gone and this time the hair torture had escalated to a long extension pony-tail. But then I spotted it... the holy grail of natures revenge. As Boo looked up at the elevator numbers, I had a clear view of the top of his head. There, instead of thick annoying red hair, was a bald spot! A friar tuck, round like a yamacha, bald spot! Oh Glory Be of all things assanine and petty! Boo's hair was receding in an inversely porportionate amount to the length of Judy's ponytail like some evil pack with the devil they must have made.

We waited for my attorney and then checked in and waited in the hallway outside of family court. I should have remembered not to be worried about my husbands attire. Apparently, people roll out of bed and come to family court dressing worse than I would to go grocery shopping (maybe not Weis but definately Wegmans!). The court seemed to be running behind and David was definately a comfort as we were waiting. He joked about the times he had been there for his own parent's custody matters. I actually forgot he was old hat at this!

Finally the lawyers went in and out, and then I was brought in with Boo. The Master ordered more counseling and then we would reconvene in February. Again, he talked mostly to me and I don't blame him, team Sheindlin-Radley varies between commical and scary depending on what moment you look at them. I tend to avert my eyes so as not to have any innaproprate expressions on my face. The master also made an interesting concrete anaolgy for Boo's sake. He basically said that Boo had let the concrete cure for 15 years and it would be difficult to try to stir or form it any differently now. Boo must have been ready to say a lot of stupid stuff because Judy kept patting and rubbing his leg, like she was comforting an upset dog at the vet.

Then they wanted to talk about insurance because Boo is responsible for paying for this counseling and it was obviously making him uneasy. They said a lot of confusing things about payments and deductables and I think they were even confusing themselves. I was thinking, "Listen, I have three kids, you have a Bimmer. Just figure this shit out because I am busy woman." My lawyer said it for me in a much nicer way and then we left, but not before I had to go back and get James's early dissmisal school form signed because, you know, that's what us parents have to worry about.

Till next time....