Although I could talk about turkey literally. My husband smoked a turkey in his new smoker that he got for Christmas. That was a week ago. We did not eat enough of this smoked turkey, nor did we store it appropriately. Some of it shall therefore be wasted. It’s a depressing topic, which is why I suggested we stick to the metaphorical turkey-talking.

I just didn’t have a better title for this post. Because I’m not sure where it’s going. I’m pretty sure I’m going to start talking about my personal problems, though. Not personal like “TMI,” just personal like “not that interesting to you.” But here you are anyway, so let’s begin.

Here’s a dilemma: Princess Zurg wants to join an after-school club. It’s called the Girls Club. I don’t actually know what it’s all about, except that probably only girls belong to it. I know that they put on a fashion show every year. We went to it last year because one of PZ’s BFFs is in the club, and she was in the fashion show. I think the point of the fashion show is for the girls to use their creativity–take something old and make it new, create ensembles, blah blah, whatever. It’s kind of cute, if a bit uncomfortable. Maybe it’s just me. Anyway, I think PZ would enjoy participating in the fashion show, if nothing else because, in case I’ve never told you–and it’s possible I never have, even though it seems absurd that I never have, but I can be absurdly negligent in my information-dispensing–PZ is really into fashion. Like, “alternative” fashion. I think she would rock a fashion show. She would also be among the minority of participants whose bra straps are not visible. Seriously, when did it become okay for middle-schoolers (as opposed to Madonna or grown-up slutty types) to exhibit their bras to general public? Clearly it is not accidental or incidental bra-showing. I don’t see any ratty, gray-and-dingy bras hanging out. They’re all colorful and in good repair, and definitely out there. Is the new retail variety in bras a cause or an effect of this trend? In any case, I don’t think I like it. I mean, I appreciate a bright-green polka-dot bra as much as the next person, but I really think bras should stay semi-private. Only your lovers, doctors and community-dressing-room compadres should get to see them. Unless you are a bra model. And middle-school girls should not have lovers or be bra models. Call me an old crank. I am an old crank. And I make an end.

So back to the dilemma. PZ wants to join this club, but as the ever-contrary universe would have it, the club meets Wednesdays after school, which is when PZ has her standing appointment with her psychologist. Are you aware of how difficult it is to secure a regular, after-school appointment with anyone, let alone a psychologist who treats adolescents? I’m sure you’re aware, now that you’ve thought about it for two seconds. Anyway, we’ve discussed this dilemma with her psychologist, who has been encouraging PZ to get involved with more extracurricular activities. Predictably, her only other after-school opening is on Tuesday, at exactly the same time I have to take Elvis to his social group, ten miles away, during rush hour. I’ve tried to wrap my brain around how I can get each of these children to their respective appointments at the same time on Tuesday during rush hour, but I just…can’t…quite…reach…No, there’s no way I can do this. Not without human cloning, and a) the science isn’t there yet and b) I have some ethical problems with that anyway.

Here are my options, as I see it:

Option A. Continue taking PZ to this psychologist weekly, on Wednesdays, and forget about the Girls Club.
Option B. Switch to taking PZ to this psychologist on an every-other-week basis, at an appointment time that is during school hours, possibly jumping the appointment time around so that she doesn’t miss the same class period every time (bearing in mind that the psychologist is in Freaking Tigard and there’s a 30-60 minute round-trip commute time, depending on traffic, to factor in).
Option C. Find a different therapist.

An Option D that isn’t science fiction has thusfar eluded me, but I’m open to suggestions.

This morning I asked PZ to rank these different options, and she ordered them Option B, Option C, Option A (Option A being the least appealing). We have (finally–finally) gotten PZ in to see a psychiatrist, and as of this morning we are increasing her medication dosage, which we hope will eventually result in a drastic improvement. However, she still needs the support of regular counseling, at least for now. Certainly while she’s transitioning to a therapeutic medication level. I’m not 100 percent certain that it needs to be weekly. Maybe biweekly is sufficient. But I hesitate. The current appointment time is not totally convenient (because we don’t get home until almost six, and Elvis has basketball practice at 6:15, and PZ has youth group at 7, bleeeeeaaahhhhhh), but it is nevertheless so precious (regular after-school appointment slots being so very rare) that I am loath to let it go. Bird in the hand, you know? I’d feel a fool to forsake it. And what if biweekly turns out not to be good enough. And I don’t want to be taking her out of school on a regular basis, but I don’t want her to miss a good social opportunity and I don’t want to change therapists when the current one is working so well.

And then there’s this other factor: What if she ends up hating Girls Club? She’s been known to want to do stuff and then turn out to hate it once she’s doing it. I’m going to give up a sweet after-school appointment slot for that? My brain is exploding with (negative) possibilities.

But does PZ deserve to be deprived of an opportunity because of what I’m afraid she’ll do? Possibly. But if we all got what we deserved, we’d all be pretty much screwed, wouldn’t we?

Tell me what to do, internet!

Well. That’s one moral dilemma down.

In other news, my laptop continues to work intermittently, so long as I don’t make it work too hard. As of now and for the foreseeable future, it is the only (semi-)operational computer in the house, so I have to share it. Well, technically, I don’t, but unless I want my life to be completely miserable, I have to share it. It’s okay. I mean, it’s not like I mean to be living on it or anything, but it does kind of suck when I want/need to use it and some rotten kid WHO HASN’T HAD A TURN ALL DAY is on it. Blerg. But that’s neither here nor there. I was going somewhere with this. Oh. I have been writing more, and very often I am doing it longhand because when the mood/opportunity strikes, someone else is on my laptop. Which kind of sucks, as I mentioned. But that brings me to where I was going. This laptop is certainly on its way out. It is losing the will to live. I’m not sure what’s keeping it holding on. It certainly isn’t so I can update our family blog because uploading pictures to Blogger = Working Too Hard. But whatever. Someday it’s going to just go gentle into that good night, and I need to be prepared. Which brings me to where I was going.

My husband bought this laptop for me a few years ago, to celebrate my first national publication. As it happens, that was also my last national publication–well, my last for money, anyway. (Not that it was a lot of money, but it was the principle of the thing.) I don’t want to think about how many years ago that was. Enough years ago that my laptop is now wearing out. (In fairness, I’ve used the crap out of it. I just haven’t published the crap out of anything. Not for money, anyway.) As a result of these circumstances and my contemplation thereof, I feel like I don’t really deserve a new laptop. I’ll take one, mind you–don’t misunderstand me. And I’ll complain about not having one. But on the occasion of receiving this particular laptop, I felt that I was on the cusp of a new stage of my career, and in retrospect I see that I was just on the crest of a random wave in my career. It is somewhat depressing. Did I already say that? I’m sure it bears repeating, even if I’ve said it a million times (which I’m sure I have, if not all in this one specific post). I need a new narrative surrounding my laptop ownership, but I’m too busy worrying about the PZ therapist/club thing and also the fact that she has an eye infection that won’t go away and I need to take her back to the doctor but there’s no TIME.

And there’s also no time to keep gabbing about this crap. I have to get Girlfriend on the school bus. Adieu, gentle readers, adieu.