Sunday, January 22, 2006

The Little Missus

For reasons that I won't detail here, I'm on a mailing list for people who might contribute lots of money to the Republican party. Needless to say, they are sadly mistaken about me in that regard, but I haven't written or called to tell them so, because examining the mailings are an interesting exercise. I can't really get all the way through them, but it kind of doesn't matter: my favorite part is that they address the mail to "Mrs. Emma Goldman." First, they have no way of knowing whether I'm married--the information they got from me only had my first and last name, so they merely assumed that I'm married, which I find bizarre. Why assume that about someone? Second, though, that is an incorrect form of address, as I learned from Miss Manners (who is an invaluable resource on this and many other things). One can be Emma Goldman, or Ms. Emma Goldman, or Dr., the Honorable, or the Reverend Goldman, or Rabbi Goldman, for that matter, even if one has taken one's husband's name. What one cannot be is Mrs. Emma Goldman. When you use that form of address, you also use the husband's first name, i.e., I'd have to be Mrs. Crawdaddy Goldman. But perhaps the Republicans have not read Miss Manners.

I've also had to stop myself from being too annoyed at my relatives, most of whom just assumed that I changed my name. I did not, and I've been saying since I was 15 that I would not, and they haven't bothered to ask, so it seems kind of . . . annoying. They mean well, and they're old, so it's not like I'm going to call them and yell at them, but it does bug me. It especially bugs me when my mother does it, because we had that conversation. She addresses things to me using my correct name, but the Christmas gift (a check) was made out to Emma and Crawdaddy Smith. I haven't told her yet that we haven't combined our bank accounts (and have no intention of doing so), mostly because I keep forgetting to mention it, but I'm sure she'll get bent out of shape about that one, too.

Thanks to the wonderful Crawdaddy, however, she might be beginning to come around on the whole career change thing. She has been distinctly non-supportive about this whole venture from day one. She asked me as recently as a week ago whether I was going back to the old company, for example, and she's nothing but upset that I'm going to be earning so little (and, by the way, not have a Big Important Title; my mother, bless her heart, is into status markers a little bit). I try not to let it bug me--and it surely hasn't stopped me--but it's my mother, fer chrissakes, so a little support would be nice. Last week I explained, for the umpteenth time, that life's too short to do work that I hate, but she had on her "not listening" voice. She called yesterday while I was at work, though, and C talked to her for awhile, and she brought up the subject, saying something to the effect that I'm serious about this, aren't I. C said yes, she is, she loves it, her boss loves her, it's great, and I love seeing her so happy--all the stuff he's been saying to me all along. When she called me today, it was with the express purpose of finding out how the job's going, so maybe, just maybe, she's beginning to resign herself to the fact that her daughter is doing this wacky thing. I'm not holding my breath entirely, but you never know.

Tomorrow: another day off! I'm finding that I don't mind working on Saturday all that much (though I'm sure I'll mind it more the first time I want to stay out late on a Friday), not least because I'm home by early to mid afternoon. Sunday isn't all that much changed, and then I have off on Monday! Though tomorrow I'm going to go give back my extra unemployment check, seeing as how I got paid Friday, and I expect THAT will be more fun than a person should be allowed to have, if my previous experiences with the state unemployment offices are any indication.


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