Just so you know, I was excited for the upcoming summer season – I was finally going to put Miki into a new place to meet people and leave fricking Transfiguration for a change. Last year, all of the children were mandated to attend Trans summer school because the kindergarten teachers had no control and let them run amok.

Well, the plan failed. Her summer school teacher left mid-season due to medical reasons. As a result, they got this older, Bohemian bubblehead who let the children run wild since, “creativity is at its best when there are no restrictions imposed.”

True, however, if you take the kids to the park, it’s important to make sure that all 32 of them are physically THERE. You’re technically not supposed to find them in other classes or with the principal, dontcha agree? So the statement above does not apply to allowing them run off and remain lost. The last thing you need is a child on those milk cartons.

Well, earlier this year, we received a number of forms to register our children for Transfiguration summer school. I scoffed at it and stuck in the scratch paper bin for Miki to draw on. Most parents were surprised at my reaction, for whatever the strange reason, most assumed that I would send her there for the summer.

There are a number of schools near our home for the same price. Plus, I wasn’t looking forward to getting there PUNCTUALLY at 8:15AM each morning. I mean, come on, this is SUMMER SCHOOL fer cryin’ out loud! It’s not like Transfiguration’s curriculum was better compared to other schools; in fact, it's a real joke. Forget it.

Anyway, another parent had sent his son to this summer school and found it to be a positive environment. He was satisfied with how the school was organized and their approach in educating children. So…I did my homework early, registered, and put my deposit down.

Then I get a phone call from Anna. She delivered the most horrifying news yet – Grace Sr. (the wacko) had enrolled her child to the same fricking school.

Goddammit…I still can’t escape this madwoman, can I?

A few months ago, I picked up Miki from school and made a pit stop to HSBC to deposit a few checks. Generally, I don’t run any errands this late in the day as the lines are longer and my starving child is groaning for a Thanksgiving meal. Due to the number of medical requests we received that week, legally, we needed to cash out those checks ASAP.

So I barged into the bank and headed straightaway to the Commercial Banking line. I didn’t even notice Grace on the “Platinum Banking” line…she spotted Miki and quickly spun around like a power drill and stuck her face up my poor child.

Ugh. I groaned at the sight of her.

She followed me to the commercial banking line to ‘catch up’ and I was so not having it. What made it worse was how this client ahead of me lugged in a huge shopping bag of small bills which forced me to ‘entertain’ Grace for nearly 20 minutes. So, to expedite my deposit transaction, I dug the checks out of my bag and without much thought, held them in my hand.

All of the sudden, Grace began to do a strange Egyptian dance by hovering over my shoulder and stretching her neck. It was extremely annoying and I couldn’t understand why she was behaving like a damn chicken pecking around the air. I mean, this woman had a serious case of African ants in her pants.

Then it hit me: she was trying to see how much I was depositing.

Oh geez…it was only a mere $450, but how far will this woman go to be nosy? I mean, come on! So I folded the slip in half and pressed the checks against my right leg. Believe it or not, she moved to the right and her fricking head trailed towards my leg.

Both Anna and Rich found it funny. My mother continued to feel sorry for her, even though she won her medical malpractice suit and has over 10K in the bank account. Hey, there’s a reason why she’s on the “Platinum Banking” line.

Un-hwucking-believable.