Damn. After 18 years, I find that Rachel, who I thought was pretty seriously afflicted, was really only an "Alleged Person With A Disability". She and I had to attend court at the "Mental Division Courtroom". Gosh, that sounds so insensitive. I have never been one to suffer hurt feelings from labels and names; these things are really only adjectives that should hold special meaning. For example, it means nothing to me if you tell me someone is autistic. You can be anywhere on the map with autism from the lowest to the highest functioning person. It speaks volumes if you tell me someone has autism AND is subsequently profoundly retarded. It is politically incorrect to say someone is retarded; we must call them mentally impaired which again needs more descriptives to get the meaning.
It was a wee bit exciting and simultaneously annoying: sort of like a boring episode of Boston Legal (even though I've never seen a boring one). I was ever so slightly bent out of shape and took this out of my purse to amuse both myself and the alleged individual with a disability.
In addition to collecting yarn, I collect all kinds of hand creams and lotions. It's a nurse thing. It just struck me as ludicrous that this is what I would select from my humongous handbag to bring out in a court of law. Mental though it was. A fitting end to a fitting day. Stay tuned for part three for if you paid attention in the beginning and weren't snoring by this point, you know we were adjourned and have to go back to listen to expert testimony. I'm smuggling a recorder in for that one.