Short Circuit II

I got a grant from Salt Lake County for my program, and it's time to negotiate the contract. This is when we discuss how many people will be enrolled this year, how many of them will show advances in their English, and other fascinating facts that will need to be tracked in the (enthralling) Quarterly Statistical Report.

We have been tossing drafts of the contract around, e-mailing about this or that detail.

Today, I replied to two messages from Dorothy, my grant administrator at the County offices. She phoned me shortly after.

We talked about the contract for a while; then she said, "So, what ARE you going to wear to the Quinceanera?"

Huh?

(A Qinceanera is a celebration of a girl's fifteenth birthday. Think debutante ball meets first communion meets wedding. These celebrations are huge in the Latino community. I have been invited to a Quinceanera on Saturday, but how the hell does Dorothy...]

"How did you-"

"It's right here in the e-mail you sent me:

Hey, Robin!
I am SO SORRY that I still haven't called you. The last few weeks have been f***ing insane at work! I still want to hear ALL about the hot guy you met in Puerta Vallarta. I'm going to a Quinceanera on Saturday. Just the mass, not the dance - what do you think I should wear?

Luckily,
1. Dorothy has a sense of humor.
2. I really did use the asterisks that you see above.

Anyway, Dorothy has had her share of moments. I watched her give a PowerPoint presentation once, oblivious to the fact that the projector cord was wrapped around her ankle. She could not seem to figure out why, every time she moved, the images slid across the wall. All was revealed by a sudden movement, which sent the projector sliding forcefully across the table, at which point, several people in the group threw themselves on top of it before it crashed to the floor.

And Robin? Honey, if you're out there, I think we could commit to serving 300 students again this year, for a total of 16,500 instructional hours. Could you just sign off on that and fax it back to me?