Just sort of catching up. There are a few things that I need to tell all of you, I guess, but nothing really ground-breaking. Well maybe. I don't know. Enough stalling. Here goes.
Aislin has made a few landmarks lately. First off, she's sucking her toes. More often than not, she'll grab her foot but get distracted before it gets to her mouth. Sometimes though, she'll start sucking away. It's pretty cute -- except when her feet are grubby and stinky. Then it's kind of gross. Still, it's a developmental landmark.
The other day, I was changing Aislin's clothes and I started tickling her. One great thing about having a beard is that babies find it really ticklish. So I was tickling her belly and she totally laughed. It was short-lived, but I totally heard it. I stand by it, even after I've showed Kate and she says she's heard her do that before and it doesn't really count. She laughed. And it was because of me. Booyah.
On the working front, transcribing work is pouring in. So that's good. Also, I got a call last week from a guy who needed someone to type up his letters. He didn't have access to a computer, and he was writing a letter to a judge so he needed it to look as professional as possible. He lived a ways away, but it was work. I drove out there and picked up his letters. I began to think it wasn't such a great idea. First of all, his place was a mess. I'm uncomfortable around new people anyway, but this guy kind of scared me. The letter was easy enough to type though, so I did it up and got it back to him. I undercharged him, but I was okay with it as long as we parted ways. Then this past week, he called me again and expressed how happy he was with my work, and wanted to employ me again. It was work, so I agreed. We also agreed that I needed to be charged more. This time, he was working at a friend's place doing yard work for $5 an hour. First, I went to the wrong house and walked up the front walk. There was a dead decomposing mouse on the walk that yellow jackets were feasting on, and it creeped me out. Turns out it was the wrong house, but it's an appropriate metaphor. I met the guy's friend, and he called himself "the sane one." Yeah, ominous right? To be "the sane one" implies there's someone around who's insane. Well. I got these letters from my employer and typed them up. They scared me. It was as if they were written for another part of himself. They were a stream of consciousness that bounced off the loose screws. When I got these pages back to him, I told him I was falling behind on my transcribing so I couldn't do this anymore. He took it well, I think. We shook hands, and then he said "I guess I'll just have to rip down all your signs on campus, then." I laughed, shrugged, got in my car and drove the heck away. He paid me, but it was then that I remembered a policy regarding my freelance editing: if they can't e-mail it to me, we can't do business.
It's sad how this blog is supposed to be all about my time with daughter, but on posts like this I breeze right over her and talk about my misadventures with crazy people. As soon as Aislin does things as convoluted and involved as a crazy person, I'll tell you all about it. I promise.
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