Phone Calls and Saturday Tunes

I've got to go in Monday and call all the kids who need to come in and work on the yearbook. I should send home schedules again too and put some heavy pressure on those long-lost kids.

Why do I worry about them all, even my editor-in-chief, on a Saturday? Ranae is great and wonderful and too damn busy. She's in charge of a pool at a country club, and the storms blew out her pump, so now she deals with that all the time, at the expense of yearbook. Plus, she's in love it appears and stays up too late. But it is summer, and what did I do the summer after I graduated high school? Had a torrid love affair and worked my ass off -- and I have some wonderful rocking chair memories of that summer...

So what should I do? Do the work myself? No way...that goes against all that I've been taught and all that I believe in. I am the "adviser" spelled with an e on purpose. That's what journalism teachers are: advisers -- not student workers. Even the state free-speech law says that "students shall assign and edit the news."

Kick their asses is what I'm gonna do.

But first, I'm going to pick up Son #1 later and head to an outdoor concert of local bands. Local Indie bands, that is. That should be fun, and the storms are supposed to surround us but stay away until tomorrow.