May 02, 2006 - 2:12
I picked up a pair of grass-green underpants, marvelled at their chroma, but decided that that they would translate terribly to ass, so I put them back.
I met with my boss, he asked me where Rachael is going in her life. I sat there for a few breaths thinking about how nobody should ask me that question, and said "I don't know. I'm not challenging myself enough though, in life." He said to me, "That's not my fault." I responded, "Oh, I know. I think I need to go to school soon, though." And he thinks it's a very good idea.
I asked him what he's going to do after he retires. He said he'd like to become a full-time volunteer grief counselor. Seems out of left-field, but what I didn't know is that he's been doing it for 12 years once a week. He gives grief management lectures, talks to teenagers frankly about their grief and all it's manifestation.
Mostly death grief.