#21. Saints and Cereal.

In the spring and summer I always try to eat cereal for breakfast and it's never a good idea. My stomach really hates milk first thing in the morning. It's not intolerable but it's an uncomfortable amount of tightness.

It's sad because I really like cereal, particularly in the morning.

I avoid this problem in the chilly and cold months by eating oatmeal, but eating something hot first thing on a hot day isn't comfortable. But neither is paying $5 for 6 bagels.

During the course of my Wednesday evening conversation with Jim (contra guy) he said that he was a Christian. Hooray and Hallelujah! He's Catholic, so we've still got to talk about the course of salvation, the idea of saints, and the existence of purgatory, along with the general practice of faith issues before I can whole-heartedly celebrate the potential longevity of this relationship.

If he's not by-the-Catholic-book Catholic, he still has to pass the meet-my-Look-Up-family test. That might could happen in late April. Maybe.

Oh, and happy St. Patrick's day! I'm Irish! Woo! I ate corned beef and cabbage. I also had my first alcoholic beverage of 2013 (since the time changed last weekend I'm allowed to.) It was Woodchuck Hard Cider. So good, and so not seasonally appropriate. Oh well. I'll get some Bailey's after Easter, when I can have sweets again.

The kids were better this week. Well, Ella was. I played games (mostly Connect 4) with her all week. Max tries, and succeeds, to manipulate her pretty often and I can't figure out how to have Ella stand up for herself without causing a tantrum on Max's part. It's nearly useless to try teaching Max why it's bad to manipulate people. He doesn't care. He never speaks to her on her level. She's quite intelligent for her age. His tone is so condescending that it enrages me, no matter how oblivious Ella is to it.

I'm looking for another job. I decided that this week after coming in day after day to a destroyed kitchen and being asked to put new soap in the master bathroom's shower. I hate cleaning up after grown people. I hate being thought of as insignificant and unintelligent. I hate knowing that I am highly skilled with their children, that the kids enjoy playing with me, and that I'm still being paid the lowest wage in the range of salaries they were offering.

I need a job that uses all of my mind. Every time I spend a few hours with Jim I realize just how much of my higher functioning has been in a coma for the past couple of years. On Saturday we spent about 3 hours browsing around a bookstore. 3 hours. Just looking at and talking about books.

I think he'd pass the Look Up test just fine. He's really strange.