dona's 365

When blond, beautiful Julia came to visit the US from England she liked it so much she overstayed her visa. We became roommates and ceased to be friends. I blamed her consistent reluctance to clean up after herself; she blamed my insistence that she pay her part of the rent.

Inconsistent, sarcastic and volatile, Ms Stein — nicknamed Frankenstein by her students — needed to have a career far from young children. Unfortunately for many, including Clare , she chose to teach second grade. Among the few adults she allowed into her classroom, I attempted to model kindness to the woman.

Arrogant and condescending, Tom was the night-shift manager at the restaurant. He thought my disdain for him was amusing, and threw a goodbye party for me at his place before I left for England. When no one else came because of the blizzard, we entertained ourselves the best we could.

Rosanne and I flipped a coin for Pat. She lost, so Pat became her teaching assistant. Pat had a mind of her own and wasn’t afraid to disregard explicit directions. Underneath it all she probably had a good heart, but we never saw it. I got her the next year.

When I volunteered to do the web page for Cinema Art Bethesda , I didn’t realize it came with a position on the board of directors and a picky micro-managing VP. I cringed each time I saw Howard’s name in my inbox. What now? I’d wonder. Wasn’t the blue blue enough?

Cheerleader, homecoming queen nominee, all-round popular girl, Diane intimidated me throughout my middle and high school years. I thought it was over after graduation, but at our ten-year reunion, one disdainful glance from her cold blue eyes turned me back into a shy, skinny teenager. No more reunions for me.

Vilma, our pretty British exchange student, was more mature than I, and the boys noticed that. After mom said Vilma could not see The Exorcist with one of those boys , Vilma requested a new host family. When it was my turn to visit England, her mother refused to host me. Note : If you've read my journal entries of this time, you know this is not the complete story. I've removed my involvement . Oops.

HONK! What’s your problem? I’m not turning left until it is safe to do so. HONK!HONK! I refuse to jeopardize my life so you can get home a minute earlier. HONK!HONK!HONK! Congratulations, that’s the first time I’ve given the finger to a fellow driver. HONK!HONK!HONK!HONK! Ha! I’ve turned. You’re stuck.

Tall, attractive with perfectly styled hair, Elizabeth is the poster image for Bethesda moms. Trained as a lawyer but a stay-at-home-mom, she’s been room-parent, PTA president and Girl Scout Cookie mom. Her daughters are just as perfect. Our small talk, when we meet, seems punctuated with daggers. Why is that?

After Uncle Quay made a pass at me at a family gathering one Christmas, I both feared and hated him. I dreamed last night I told him how angry I still was, these 33 years later. He’s no longer here to tell though. He took his own life years ago.

John lived next door to my parents when I was in college. We dated for about half a year but he was a chronic liar and a cheat. I’m still annoyed to have wasted seven months and countless tears on him. My brother calls him Elgin’s finest light bulb changer .

The bane of my childhood existence, Chris ’ younger sister, Marcia seemed to be everything my parents wanted me to be until our teacher accidentally read them Marcia’s grades instead of mine. Later, teen-aged Marcia seemed to bond more with my mom than I did, and that hurt. Marcia. Marcia. Marcia.

When you began talking loudly during the opening credits I could have tried ignoring you, but instead I asked you if you planned on talking through the entire film. You said no. So you clicked your pen, sighed vociferously, wriggled audibly and flipped the seat between us up and down.

Salesman through and through, Kevin had a child with my ex-cousin-in-law's daughter. They coveted my mother’s lake house in Wisconsin and made an offer. Mom said no, but sold him some land instead. He talked her down in price then built a McMansion in the woods, obstructing our view. Asshole.

The first person I hated, Mrs. Tidwell said she wanted to be an opera singer instead of the fourth-grade teacher she became. She humiliated me -- my art, my singing, my work . She laughed at my ambition to be a doctor. So I taught; hoping to replace a Mrs. Tidwell.

I’ve never met Mandy, but I’ve received several complaints from her about posts I let through our school email list. She complains about UNICEF messages and posts for Red Cross. Why am I not surprised, after googling her name, to find an email she wrote on a site called complaints.com?