11-14-00 Tu 2:40 PM

It's Rochelle's birthday. We met one year ago today. I have cards to mail. I typed fifteen minutes before going to night school last night. I got tonight and tomorrow night off, but I have to take in lesson plans. I should ask in the office here at Wilshire Hill if I can take a couple more days as paternity leave. I still have to wrap Rochelle's presents. I read the news. A week later, we still don't know who the president will be. Crazy. I can't believe Rochelle's water broke a week ago already. I've got Koran to read and third person to do, but the moms and sisters are coming for Rochelle's birthday. We have a staff meeting today. It had been phenomenally cold this week. 11-15-00 10:03 AM W  I've got to get that card out to Kristine. Ugh. My brother is a crack addict. His roommate called to say so. I believe it. What can I do? Ugh. I almost don't care. I just wish he would stop ripping off the family. The chances of a happy ending with this are slim to none. I don't have to work tonight. I may get tomorrow through Monday off. I have to check with Phylicia. When did I last write? On the previous page, duh. We were all very happy at Rochelle's party last night--even and especially the baby! Even the dog. Rochelle liked her presents. We ordered Chinese. GIP came over. So did Thing and his brother, Glen. Glen's leaving today for alcohol rehab. When he came in last night, GIP and I tried to hide our beers. Everyone left, and went to bed around ten, I guess. Rochelle fed the baby at midnight and then again around two thirty. I could hear her snuffling around in her bassinette. I took her out and tucked her on my chest, tummy down. She worked her way over to my armpit and snuggled into my shoulder. Sublime. I stayed like that as long as I could. I left myself enough time for a two-minute shower. Dried off and dressed. The heater in the bathroom tried to burn the house down. We've got to call Felix. I ate a plate of leftover Chinese and donut. Rode my bike to school. Brought a plate of leftover Pollo Loco and potato salad and an apple for lunch. I was in the office when Roch called to say Ray called. I called Ray. I figured Mac was in jail or OD'd or murdered or dead. But he's just a living crackhead, which may be worse.