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For my week-and-a-half in Vancouver. Anyone ever been there? I'm going for work, so most likely I will not see much of the city. Airport to hotel and environs of hotel back to the airport. At least the hotel is right on the water and I am told there are copious restaurants, and park-like walking paths all around. Taking my umbrella and my walking shoes.
( whinging and whining about a number of things y'all can just ignore - also cut because of potty-mouth language. )
More amusing - I get home after pizza with Gwen to a message on my answering machine obviously not for me. It is a teacher at the High School for the parents of, let's call him "Barney" (not the name given to me) who is not doing his homework and has a test on chapter eight this Friday and is failing Earth Sciences. The teacher want the parents of "Barney" to understand the situation and goes on for a while about what he hopes the parents do for getting "Barney" back up to doing the work for class. The teacher slurred his name (or else had such a broad accent I couldn't understand it) and did not specify what High School he was calling from. As I have no child named "Barney" (or otherwise), and no husband named "Harold" or otherwise, I listened to the message carefully so I could call the teacher back and let him know his telephone message went awry.
No number was included. I figure, okay, no way can I track this down and go to bed. I am still awake at two am and get the bright idea to look up online if there is a Earth Sciences teacher at the most local high school whose name vaguely resembles the one I wrote down earlier from the phone message. I get onto the HS site, and find the Science department is bigger than any four departments put together at the HS I attended many years ago. But there is one possible guy, and I shoot him off an email telling him I hope "Barney's" parents get the message this time, if he truly is the teacher in question.
Haven't received a reply, but if "Barney" fails the test on chapter eight on Friday, don't come crying to me. I did everything I could, probably more than most.
( whinging and whining about a number of things y'all can just ignore - also cut because of potty-mouth language. )
More amusing - I get home after pizza with Gwen to a message on my answering machine obviously not for me. It is a teacher at the High School for the parents of, let's call him "Barney" (not the name given to me) who is not doing his homework and has a test on chapter eight this Friday and is failing Earth Sciences. The teacher want the parents of "Barney" to understand the situation and goes on for a while about what he hopes the parents do for getting "Barney" back up to doing the work for class. The teacher slurred his name (or else had such a broad accent I couldn't understand it) and did not specify what High School he was calling from. As I have no child named "Barney" (or otherwise), and no husband named "Harold" or otherwise, I listened to the message carefully so I could call the teacher back and let him know his telephone message went awry.
No number was included. I figure, okay, no way can I track this down and go to bed. I am still awake at two am and get the bright idea to look up online if there is a Earth Sciences teacher at the most local high school whose name vaguely resembles the one I wrote down earlier from the phone message. I get onto the HS site, and find the Science department is bigger than any four departments put together at the HS I attended many years ago. But there is one possible guy, and I shoot him off an email telling him I hope "Barney's" parents get the message this time, if he truly is the teacher in question.
Haven't received a reply, but if "Barney" fails the test on chapter eight on Friday, don't come crying to me. I did everything I could, probably more than most.
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