Aug. 20th, 2010 10:53 am
Des mauvais gens
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Thanks to the Dictionary of Louisiana French that
monshu gifted me with last weekend, I have a new alias for Le Lutin:
My sister gave me a bit of a start last night by saying, "And from your postings I see you've had a rough time lately?" It took a moment for the "at work" tacked on at the end to register, since I temporarily forgot that she doesn't know about this journal and only sees what I throw up on Facebook (which is so trivial and ephemeral that even I can't remember what it was a few hours later). That gives you an idea how much I'm dreading the inevitable questions from my family. Not only did she meet Ragoton on an outing in March, but soon after he sent her a Friend request on Facebook. Since her account there exists primarily for posting pictures of her kids, she called and talked to me before she accepted it.
At the time,
monshu had grave misgivings about his willingness to get involved with my family and in that--as in so many other things--his judgment has been totally vindicated. For my part, I saw it as a reassuring sign that the squirt was intending to be around for the forseeable, and as more than just a bar buddy. And that's why I promised my sister he was good people. In some ways, that burns even more than the betrayal. Deceiving me is one thing, but having me deceive my loved ones? So not cool. Seeing last week that he had deFriended her brought home like nothing else what an ass I've been.
Other than that, it was a great chat. We steered clear of any discussion of crazy parents beyond a little eye-rolling at our father's overscheduledness. We got the bitching--her about poor communication from school officials, me about work frustrations--out of the way up front so we could move on to the pleasant prospects of seeing each other. After we'd talked about our tentative vacation plans for the upcoming year, I said, "Let's quit while we're ahead."
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ragoton [ragotɔ̃] nm man of short stature, runt Il va rester un ragoton toute sa vie. He'll remain a short, stubby guy all his life.(What, me bitter?)
My sister gave me a bit of a start last night by saying, "And from your postings I see you've had a rough time lately?" It took a moment for the "at work" tacked on at the end to register, since I temporarily forgot that she doesn't know about this journal and only sees what I throw up on Facebook (which is so trivial and ephemeral that even I can't remember what it was a few hours later). That gives you an idea how much I'm dreading the inevitable questions from my family. Not only did she meet Ragoton on an outing in March, but soon after he sent her a Friend request on Facebook. Since her account there exists primarily for posting pictures of her kids, she called and talked to me before she accepted it.
At the time,
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Other than that, it was a great chat. We steered clear of any discussion of crazy parents beyond a little eye-rolling at our father's overscheduledness. We got the bitching--her about poor communication from school officials, me about work frustrations--out of the way up front so we could move on to the pleasant prospects of seeing each other. After we'd talked about our tentative vacation plans for the upcoming year, I said, "Let's quit while we're ahead."
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