When I would come back to Arkansas on summer vacations, I would get teased for "talking British." As best I could tell, it was for pronouncing my final "g"s and being careful of my grammar. It usually took me a week or so to relax into the surrounding Southern drawl.

I don't recall ever being teased for my Midwestern newscaster accent as a kid, but in Middle School our transplant from NYC told me I was the only classmate he had no difficulty understanding.

I’m hoping to move permanently. There’s a lot to like in NC, but the summers are getting progressively harder for me. And I would like to be more present in my family’s lives.

Oh, that's an exciting development, Calli! Good luck!

EM came over this morning and we actually plowed through a bunch of stuff that had been hanging.

Set up Autopay for quarterly water payments. (Was doing guest pay.)

Initiated transfer of billing from JZ's name to mine for AT&T. (Was doing guest pay.)

Initiated transfer of control on one beneficiary account over to my name.

Did initial steps for exemption of my units to SF Rent Board for new vacancy tax.

Paid Matilda's healthcare bill.

And finally got Oregon Vital Records to release my birth certificate so I can get my passport ordered.

So that feels....functional. And less thwarted.

Talking to her about my first therapist appointment, I said my concern was that she didn't have enough Weird Barbie energy to engage me on some of my issues.

I think y'all know what I mean.

I think y'all know what I mean.

We do. Well done with the impressive list of accomplishments.

Go, Hec! That’s a lot to get done. Sometimes just having another person in the room helps to get so much more done.

It took me a couple tries(and I don't mean porn.) Like, maybe there's more than you think(possible, and you don't exactly have that whole Marginalized Human thing, like I do) but, you know. If she's not it, don't be afraid to keep looking When I was in high school, I thought I would be a therapist. But I think I just terminated too fast with my disabled therapist and then kind of had the most fucked-up #SeeHerBeHer ever. Or maybe it took getting into college for me to realize how hard grad school would be(Or the occasional feeling that I'd be tempted to scribble about the deep, dark secrets that might've come my way. 'Because it's wrong" Kind of hating my Not a Job today, as it happens, and sort of wishing I'd let the guy who got bent about my Linked-in dozens joke take it off my hands last year.(I swear, I thought we were play-fighting, but he really got upset.)

But, really, dude, I'm a stranger, on twitter, who just wrote that maybe your mother should amend her profile to address her skills with small equipment. We've known each other ten minutes. If that brings up feelings enough that you want to get me fired, maybe you should talk to *mom*, not me.(My stepmother hammered my "Your mom's a skank" button so much when I was young, even if those jokes weren't funny to me, it wouldn't be fighting words now. And not only because if my mother was a skank, Stepmonster would have gotten her butt kicked on our front lawn because girls where my mom grew up? Don't settle for blouse disarranging and mild hair-pulling.) But, lucky me, that would never happen because a. I cover for all the married, family-having folks on the holidays And 2. Technically speaking, "having my job" would have saved me money because I'm a volunteer anyway.