Cora suggested ham sandwiches and she picked up the bread. I put it in a pan and we ended up having grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. They were very good. I think what set mine off was the beer I had to wash it down. I have found, in most cases, a beer at the end of the day improves that day.
So, on the adoption front, we had our psychological exams yesterday. That was almost as fun as a root canal without novacaine. I thought it would be a painless, quick bit of making sure I was not a killer, but it was completley different. I took the test first. 567 true and false questions. Get these questions: "I like mechanics magazines"...WTF? My first inclination was to ask "what kind? Popular Mechanics?" Another was "I see objects, animals, or people that others do not." "someone else controls my mind." If you have been reading my posts for any length of time, it is highly likely that you have come to the conclusion that I am a smartass. Sarcasm is my first tool of communication. It is situations like these that my sarcasm COULD get me into trouble. The- cough, cough- doctor said not to put too much thought into it. Well, why not? Aren't you supposed to think about test questions? The answers to these questions would give him a read on whether I was being truthful with him in my interview...right, like I can't pick up question trends...and I did. Several were geared toward your relationship with your parents, anger issues, sex, drugs, drinking, attention seeking, and suicidalness. Here's one that, well, I will just give you the question: Have you ever tried to kill yourself and not told anyone? Wouldn't answering TRUE to this one immediately make it false?
The interview was fun. You know, fun like performing your own appendectomy with a butter knife, a popcicle stick, and a mirror. It started out fine, I attempted to allow him to develop a rapport with me. Make him think I was comfortable, you know. We laughed a bit, covered my recent goings on. Early on, I told him I am a history major and as one, I have been taught to take a question and tear it to pieces until I am sure how best to answer. About 3/4 of the way through, the -cough,cough, hack- doctor sputtered something about history majors and psych majors being difficult to interview. I don't recall his exact words, but he seemed a little frustrated (considering the stress he put Cora and I through, I don't feel bad).
He asked me if I had ever heard or seen things that other people did not. Did I believe that I could do things that others could not. This is where my sarcasm bared its head. I held it at bay for the moment. I laughed. I said, "You are asking me to be sarcastic. My first inclination was to say, 'Yeah, I can fly.'" He snickered along in good (I assume) humor.
He tested my memory, he asked me about my childhood and spent a VERY long time on my employment history...honestly, I think it bugged him that my beloved wife worked while I worked on my bachelor's! How's that? The history major is analyzing the
Then he gave me an imaginary teenage daughter who hated me. Well, not quite. She wanted to go to a party, but I had said no. All of a sudden she begins cussing me out in the kitchen (why the kitchen?) what do I do? My response: "If I raised her right, this would not even happen, I would hope that I have instilled a healthy repsect in her" -NOPE! She does it anyway, he says. OK...ahh, I yell right back at her, giving her the tongue lashing of her life, then I take a deep breath and send her to her room to think about her actions. He countered: She is in her room and you go to check her and she begins cussing you out again... uhhh....ok. I tell her she can stay in there until she can come out and be a mature adult and speak respectfully. She still acts out. I say, I call for reinforcements... CORA!!!!!!!!! Cora isn't there! (WTF???? That's not fair!) It is about this time as he keeps pushing me, apparently trying to get me to say I would strangle this imaginary disrespectful, unrepentent, spiteful child, that I notice I have changed my posture. I am striking the textbook posture that says I would not mind smacking him in the face if he was just a little closer. Damn. I immediately attempt to relax, without making it obvious (yeah, good luck with that Jim).
I finally said that she would stay in her room and I would attempt to talk her down...I pointed out that I was not planning to ADOPT a teenager...I expected to have several years to prepare. I would not wake up one day and POOF! "You've Got A Teenager!" He countered and I did...then finally, he apparently got what he wanted and it was over. He did point out that I was amazingly truthful about my likelihood of yelling right back at the child, then he pointed out that children learn by example...maybe that's what made him happy enough to close down the session...maybe I should have just said I would slap the kid silly and it would have been over sooner (for the record, I would NOT do that, I just wonder if I had SAID that would he have let me out sooner? Yes, and probably with the adoption papers stamped "DENIED!").
Well, at least it is done..am I crazy for being pleased?