Resolutions are so '08, aren't they? And who the hell actually carries through with them anyway? I'm going to focus instead on creating a sort of roadmap for myself for 2009.

1. Distance myself from toxic people. This one may be a smidge harder than it sounds since by all accounts, I'm the most toxic person in my life, but I shall strive to limit the power that the negative folks have over me.
2. When I resist change ask myself WWPFD? This is an acronym for What Would Pxx Fxxxxx Do? PF is a woman that I used to work with who was like a human Eeyore. Change was always bad. Everyone else's ideas were always bad. It was as if she couldn't find anything positive in an idea unless it was hers. I've found myself taking on this attitude lately and it was sobering. From now on it's WWPFD? and then Kim does the opposite.
3. Read more intellectually stimulating material. As much as I enjoy reading NYMag or various gossipy sites and the Bravo blogs, I've simply got to refine my reading before I turn into one of those lameass people who can list all the current socialites or identify Top Chef dish creators by simply looking at a plate of food. When I'm more up-to-date on current pop culture and gossip than my senior English class, we have a problem.
4. Resume some form of healthy movement. Walking to and from the fridge carrying a laptop isn't going to pull my ass up off my mid-thigh and far too many of my clothing items are becoming sausage casingesque.
5. Interact more. I've become a virtual and literal hermit. My idea of the perfect evening is to climb in my bed with my laptop and remote control and just tune out for two or three hours before falling asleep. Needless to say this does nothing for my social life.

And now I'm off to haul giant bags of trash to the dump so I can begin working on my second list--Things That I Must Do to Maintain Sanity and Marriage in 2009. That list will bear striking resemblence to a chore chart and a menu :-0.

Labels: health, my life, technological blather, who doesn't love a list

I've said many times before that my life is like a poorly written sitcom in many ways. I'm like the quirky protagonist who gets into scrapes either by sheer stupidity, lack of responsible thinking skills, unfortunate human circumstance or complete physical incompetence. It's just what I do. Because of this, my trips out in public can fraught with mishaps, accidents and/or hilarity. Trips to Wal Mart are prime settings for stupid and yesterday was no exception.

First of all, I should tell you that I talk to myself. A lot. Out loud. As I get older, I do it more and more. I probably look like Sybil's daughter as I walk up and down the aisles (without a list 9 times out of 10) and try to get things from stores like Wal Mart or Kroger. Inevitably when I get to the back far corner of Super Wal mart, it dawns on me that I need something from the health and beauty section...and that's what happened yesterday. We've had a total Wal Mart redo, so backtracking is even more time-consuming than it should be since I only hit the evil empire every six weeks or so (they remodeled the entire non-food merchandise side in between my visits in the spring--talk about feeling like Alice in the rabbit hole. I walked in and saw a plywood pharmacy in the entrance way and was like wtf??).

Anyway, I was loading four packs of Sugar Free Red Bull (damn, that stuff is expensive, btw, but will be in my fridge for the near future anyway. sorry, true!) when it dawned on me that I had to go get some deodorant because I'd forgotten it the previous two trips. So, talking to myself the whole way, I made my diagonal path to the other side of the stupid enormous Wal Mart and found the proper aisle. W. isn't brand-loyal on deodorant--just low price loyal. This week it was Speed Stick's million varieties on sale. I never can remember what smell to buy because men's deodorant names are just ridiculous. Athletic, sports scent, thunderstorm, clean fresh, power surge, waterfalls...they don't make any sense, really. At least for me. All I know is I never buy unscented because deodorant, IMO, is one of the things that SHOULD be scented artificially because the natural smell is just unfortunate. Faced with the dizzying array of choices, I decided I needed to smell them to make a choice.

I picked up the first choice and smelled. Nothing. Speedstick's package is a weird flat oval shape with a very tight lid that controls the scent Under the lid is this annoying piece of plastic,molded to the top of the stick. It has a very user-unfriendly 'handle' that you have to pull or twist or pry off. WHY can't they just have a sticker like the best girl deodorant in the world, Secret Clinical?

I tug on the little tab/lid to release some scent. No luck. Tug again. Nope. Try to twist. No budge. Pick up another one, repeat. No smelling. In a fit of exasperation, I do a combo pull/twist at about the same time I lean in a bit...and yes, the tab came loose. So loose, in fact, that my hand snapped up uncontrollably and the tab handle thing smacked right into my lip while the opening of the deodorant mashed into my chin. I'm pretty sure I said, "SHIT!" out loud, in Wal Mart, on Christmas Eve, but when one draws blood with a personal hygiene product, it is acceptable, IMO. Needless to say, I got a good whiff of the scent since it was gummed on my chin. At that point, I decided that since it didn't smell of death or bubble gum, that was the chosen one. I gathered what was left of my dignity, rubbed the smear of Speed Stick off my face, ducked my head to hide my slightly split lip and got the hell out of Dodge.

Merry Christmas!

Labels: dumb shit I do, embarrassing events, holidays, my life

I've been less computer-oriented the past week or so than I have in years. My laptop had to be sent away because of a motherboard/wireless connection problem that HP's laptops developed. They extended the warranty to cover the problem, thank goodness, so all I had to do was send it in and they're replacing my motherboard. While it's been gone, I've been using the fabulous new Dell desktop that I bought for W. for his bday/Father's Day/you're in nursing school and you need a better computer. Between W. and the kids, there's not much free time online, lol. The nice part is that I've not really missed it, kwim? I run in and check in here and there for a second and then I get up and go do something else. I think that's what my poor manic brain needed.

I've read a LOT of books in the past month. I desperately need to update my Goodreads info. Goodwill had their monthly 50% off everything sale yesterday and I went into book-buying overdrive. I bought 74 books. About 15 or so are for my classroom, the kids or other teachers, but the rest of them? Novels. I had already read all the stuff I bought at McKay's last month, so I needed some more books to read on vacation next week. Once I started piling them in the cart, I couldn't stop. I found lots of good things--some book I'd been wanting to read such as Like Water for Chocolate, Atonement, Snow Falling on Cedars, some Maeve Binchy and Steve Matini titles and the like. I also bought several Patricia Cornwell and Mary Higgins Clark titles and a couple of Sue Grafton's alphabet series as well. I tried to get a good variety so that W. and SIL would have stuff to read, too. I read Atonement yesterday. I've been reading a book a day for the past couple of weeks. I am forcing myself to cut back this week in order to get housework and mommy stuff done. I have seven days next week with nothing to do but cook a few meals, supervise my ornery children and lie on the beach. Such a rough life I lead, lol.

We're going to Gulf Shores, Alabama, for a nice stay. SIL and MIL, Lynda (with a friend) and Jeffrey are going, too. The condo will be a bit full, but I think we're going to have fun. It will be a treat to have more adults around so that the kids have more options--I'm very much a lie on the beach and read/nap/people watch kind of chick. W. is all about fishing. The kids like to do both, plus swim in a pool. Usually since we only have one car there, it takes a bit of juggling to get everyone where they want to be, but this time will be a bit easier. Sometimes I take for granted how well-located Tennssee is. We're just a seven-hour or so drive from great beaches on the Gulf, three or four hours from Atlanta or Memphis, a long day's drive from DC, three hours from the Smokey Mountains, etc.

Five is on a mission trip to Kentucky this week. He'll be helping repair homes in a poverty-stricken area. Packing for a week for him was no fun. Just the sheer volume of t-shirts alone was daunting. I used my fabulous Delsey suitcase that my mom gave me for Christmas. When I had all of his stuff packed, I called him in so I could explain what I was sending and the first thing he said was, "Mom, I think the suitcase is a bit too big. I think I'm supposed to bring a small bag." Translated: He was embarrassed that the suitcase was so large. I had quite a time explaining to him that in order to take enough long pants and shorts, t-shirts for working and for hanging out, socks, boxers, towels, medicine, toothbrush and other personal stuff AND a tool belt, measuring tape, nail apron and hammer along with an extra pair of shoes, there really wasn't any way to take a small carry-on sized suitcase. He pondered this and then asked, "Well, can you try to put the sleeping bag in the suitcase?" Uh, no. An adult-sized sleeping bag will NOT fit into an already loaded suitcase. He resigned himself to looking like a tourist and moved on to more important topics--snacks for the trip.

Sam, Jay and I are home on our own this week. W. has to work everyday but Thursday, so the boys and I will be doing a great deal of pool time and maybe a trip or two to the park. They havie swim lessons every day, so that gives us a good reason to get up and get ready at a decent hour. Speaking of swim lessons, I guess I should go get stuff ready. A day at the pool requires much food and drink planning and I'm such a ditz I have to allow enough time to figure out what I've forgotten.

Hope everyone had a great 4th!!

Oh, last thing....my cousin's daughter has a fabulous new online biz--Good Fortune Soap. All her things are handmade with natural ingredients. She's going to be sending me some samples so I can farm them out to some of you. When they arrive, I'll post more info and tiny little presents will be shipped out to those who want some.

I cannot seem to get into a good workout routine. Either something comes up at the last minute or my neck hurts so much that I don't dare do anything strenuous.

Labels: helpful beauty hints, holidays, kids, mr kim, my life, physical exertion, updates

And with Austin this year here:

Friends, never let it be said that I am too full of myself to hide the less than attractive photos of myself...it's what keeps me real and in touch with the people.

Anyway, read the other post if you want to know exactly WHY I didn't leave Chattanooga as planned on Wednesday. No, here it is Saturday--NINE frigging days after I left home for a 4.5 day jaunt, and I'm preparing to leave. You can imagine how thrilled W. is with me a this point. He's a good egg no matter how much I bitch about him. Frankly, no matter how much he's complained about me being gone, I think he and Five have actually probably enjoyed having the sty, er house to themselves for the whole week plus.

Since Sarah left, I've had lots of free time. I could have gone out w/ a friend on Thursday night, but I just didn't feel like it. Everyone that I know had to do mundane things such as work or spend time with family, so I had lots of solitude. I went to see Sex and the City. I ate at Panera a lot. I stayed up faaaaar too much (last night was freakish and I went to sleep at SIX a.m.) and watched all sorts of my favorite cable rerun shows, Top Chef, and Regis and Kelly. Good times, but pretty damn boring after awhile.

I miss having something to actually DO. This is a clear sign that the Wellbutrin is kicking in, I think. So, I'm heading home in just a few--meeting the parents in Murfreesboro to pick up my kids on their way home from their trip to Wyoming because I don't want to wait for them to drive all the way here and then leave. I'm that ready to just be home. Weird, but true.

I will update here more often, but if I disappear other places, you understand why. I have summer school for two weeks and many, many weeks worth of housework to deal with. Plus, I have to begin my holy-shit-I'm-almost-40 workout regimine so that I don't cry when I see pictures of the unfortunate event. To quote a smart lady, "Be safe!"

Labels: announcements, domestic stuff, good times, mr kim, my life, pictures, travel

Then read about MY day yesterday--Thursday, June 4, which is evidently the day of Satan.
After staying up waaaay too late, I got up at 4 to get sarah and the girls off to Calgary. She stayed here with me because it's closer to the airport (I'm in Hixon at my parents' house). I went out to check my van because we were afraid that a light had been left on last night--it had not, but I left the keys in it like a dumbass. turned to the kill-the-battery-position and then left them there for close to an hour.

We get outside with the girls to leave and my fucking van wouldn't start. Igo tearing around the house and get dad's Jeep keys, start the jeep--thinking that surely he has jumper cables or we can drive it if we have to. I can't get the back doors unlocked for some reason, so i get out--with it running--and shut the door. as SOON as I shut it, I realised that I had locked it. so now the Jeep is running with the keys locked in it AND the van won't start. Sarah is starting to panic and the girls are getting freaked.

I had to call Daddy and wake him up---3.55 a.m. mountain time. He told me where to find more jeep keys AND that he doesn't have jumper cables here, so I can't jump it off. there are no backseats in the Jeep and it is loaded with tools and stuff. Well, if you know my parents, then you know that means there is only one vehicle left to choose from (techincally, there are three, but the VW Thing isn't running and there's no way in hell I'd drive the 64 1/2 Mustang....that leaves the 15 passenger white Dodge van affectionately known 'round these parts as Big Ugly. It's a leftover from my parents' antique show hauling days and they still use it for camping. I have never driven it before--for good reason.

Sarah and I unloaded her four lead-filled suitcases, along with the biggest jogging stroller on the planet, all the kids' stuff and piled into Big Ugly, which I then proceeded to drive to the airport. My parents' driveway isn't long, but it's got a weird curve, so I always turn around and drive out 'normal' in my own car. Given my luck of the day, I wasn't about to chance turning around--I'm sure I would have hit my van, the house or backed off the edge of the driveway, so with Sarah hanging out one door and me the other, I successfully made it out fhe drive in reverse.Yay for me! Once we got out of the driveway, it was a piece of cake, but my nerves were shot. Got to the airport in plenty of time.

I returned home. Tried my van...it started. I was like, WTF?, but glad that I wouldn't have to bother anyone. Oh, silly Kim, if you'd only known.

I went back in and cleaned up, washed the sheets that we'd used, showered, dressed, packed, etc. Around 10.45 or so I went out and tried the car again--it started. Then, like a complete Simpleton, I turned off the van, plugged my cell phone into the car charger and left the motherfucking side door open. Didn't even cross my feeble mind that I should have left it running.

You can guess what happened next---the damn thing was deader than hell when I went back out. I gave it an hour. Still nothing, so I had to call Aunt Barbara to come jump me off. Bless her heart, she came right over and we managed to get it running. Whew. Off to home.

Or not.

After driving all around southeastern Tennessee, the Check Transmission message started blinking at me and my overdrive light began to flash as I drove down Amnicola Highway. Even a mechanical ignoramous such as myself knew that this was bad. I found a place to pull over, called W. in a panic. He said to check the trans. fluid and add some. (Sidenote--my van had been driving oddly all weekend, but I didn't really put it all together at the time). I made it to a Conoco, which didn't carry the fluid, but I checked my level there and I was almost totally out. Yikes.

Drove a little bit further, praying all the way that the transmission wouldn't just lock up on me. Made it to a Chevron. Bless the lovely man who worked there. He called me "Sunshine" and helped me put the fluid in, check everything. I felt confident that the worst was behind me.

I? am notorious for being inept at judging the future and this? was another example.

I start driving down Amnicola again and get to almost the same exact spot and the frigging transmission light comes on. Fuck me. I managed to pull over and drive up a block or so to an empty parking lot...this involved going up a hill and I wasn't entirely sure I was even going to make it, but I did. I got out and checked. Damn fluid was empty. I looked under the van for the obvious and yes, there where even I, Kim the Automotive Moron, could see it was transmission fluid flowing freely out and making an impressive puddle on the pavement. The black asphalt pavement. The black asphalt pavement that was super heated because it was about 95 degrees outside and there wasn't a lick of shade.

More panicked calls. Clearly I wasn't going anywhere in the van. I'm smart like that. After much, much cursing and such, I had to call Aunt Barbara yet again to come get me. As I waited for her, I got hotter and hotter. I swear I have never sweated so much in my whole entire life. I had sweat rolling down the backs of my legs. Nasty.

To make this incredibly long story a little shorter, I will spare you the details about trying to figure out where to take my car. I knew that the Ford dealership was my last resort because those folks are slow as Christmas and dumber than shit. After calling like a million people that live in and around Chatanooga, friend from high school, David Poe, found me a place to take it, but they didn't advertise transmission work. I was going to call them and see what they suggested, but then my dad remembered that the name of the place where he had the Mustang worked on is called Mr. Transmission. Needless to say, my search for a mechanic was over.

So here I sit in my parents' house with pretty much nothing to do. Car was towed today to Soddy Daisy and will hopefully be repaired cheaply and quickly. I'm just going to stay here until the weekend when the kids get back from their trip out West with Mom and Dad. And I'll probably be driving the Jeep home, which makes my back and knee hurt just thinking about it--stick shift, no frills, three hour trip. Ugh.

I have been to Walgreens and bought mascara and lipstick because they were on sale. Had a prescription for Tramadol transferred here so I won't be forced to go seek out drug dealers w/ Percocet or Demerol downtown. I'm going to ice and heat my back and just listen to the silence for a couple of days. And try not to go bonkers in the process.

So unless you ate accidentally live slug for breakfast or you peed yourself in public yesterday, consider your day much better than mine.

Labels: dumb shit I do, my life, pictures, ramble, rant, travel

Say you are walking through the parking lot of a fairly large strip mall-type place in your fair city. It is pretty full of cars, the weather is iffy and you're in a hurry to get your Goodwill purchases home so you can do laundry. Because you are a natural klutz, you have a tendancy to look down toward the ground while walking, lest you step in gum, smack into a sideview mirror, trip over a curb or just fall down. Since you are looking down (in hindsight, thank God you were), you happen to notice a rather odd-looking, rectangular pillowy-looking object directly in your path, a little ways ahead (I'd give you a feet/yards estimate, but I've tried to put a number on it and I can't really seem to get it quite right since I have almost no sense of length perception. I can do football field (this was not that long) and arm's length (this was longer) ). You ponder this and wonder what it is...

1. A sack of flour? You are in a Piggly Wiggly parking lot, after all (it's next door to the Goodwill and brand-spanking new. I have only been in there once because Sam needed to pee and the Goodwill doesn't have public restrooms--not that I would let him use it if they did).

2. A pillow? Stranger things have fallen from your own vehicle.

3. A swim float? It's a little early, but you never know.....

4. A balloon? Some people buy that kind of shit for Easter. None of these really capture the true essence of the object, so you speed up and peer closely as you approach. You notice that there is a rope, no, it's tubing attached to the pillowy thing. And the tubing is hanging from the Jeep Cherokee right beside the object..........WTF? It isn't. It can't be. No.freaking.way.

By now, you are within spitting distance of said object and, having had three c-sections as well as major abdominal surgery and visited several old folks in the hospital, you are sure. There can be no doubt. What we have here, in the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly/Goodwill/new tanning salon with absolutley awesome beds that was running a special for $18.95/tan all you want for a month so you signed up/new Mexican restaurant/24-hour gym that you joined and went to once, thus paying $40 for one trip to said gym/over price sporting goods place and appliance store from which you will never make a purchase/your dentist....where was I? Oh, yeah, lying in this parking lot with the tubing still attached, and much to your disgust is a FULL CATHETER BAG. You know...the thing with pee in it? And there's still pee in the tube.

Seeing the pee in the tube, you immediately look to see (from a comfortably hygenic distance) if your worst suspicions are true. You hope in vain that it has somehow been discarded due to fullness or inadvertently dropped and left behind (the thought of this makes you almost convulse in pain), but your worst fears are confirmed---it appears to be attached to the man who is slumped over asleep in passenger seat. He is moving as he breathes, so you're assured he is not dead. The door is slightly ajar to allow the tubing some room. So now what. Who the hell puts their catheter bag out in the freaking parking lot? Obviously, this is in error, right? It has to be. So, do you knock on the car door and point out to the man that his urine-collection device is lying in the parking lot for all the world to see? OR do you just walk on by, saving both of you a little emotional distress. I mean, the thing might have been in the way, so he just put it on the ground. Maybe it needed to be significantly lower than the bladder area in order to work at optimum efficiency (judging by the content, the thing is DEFINITELY working).

As you chose the latter and make your way quickly to the car, you are suddenly wracked with guilt. What if the driver of the Jeep comes out of the Piggly Wiggly and, seeing the passenger is asleep, starts the car and quietly drives off without waking him, never realizing, until it's too late, that trailing alongside the car, much like some macabre Just Married regalia is a full catheter bag bouncing along the highway...until a wrong turn or a close pass from another vehicle or gravity and some sort of physics laws (I didn't take physics, but I'm assuming one of the laws would apply here, yes?) intervene and the bag or tube or everything is suddenly detached and left to fly into the windshield of a passing car? Or bounce into the path of a local biker? Or be lobbed into the air and land in a brilliant yellow explosion at the feet of a local homeless woman searching the shoulder of the road for cans or 20 million in cash lying in a ditch (okay, if that were guaranteed to happen, this would be no dilemma).

You are tempted to stay in your van and wait for the driver to emerge, but sadly, you must haul ass across town to pick up the middle child from bball at the Y, so you cannot stay. As you leave, you wonder, what happend? What should I have said? What should I have done? Is there a right answer for such an obviously WRONG situation?

WWYD?

PS: if you have any stray catheter bag stories you'd like to share, please feel free to do so in comments.

Labels: burning questions, my life, weird shit

1. I'm tired of being tired.

2. I have strained my left tricep. I'm beginning to think that this whole exercise thing is just too dangerous for some people.

3. I love biscuits.

4. I also love lima beans.

5. And meatloaf.

6. Stupidity really makes my head hurt lately.

7. I do not feel 39 at all.

8. I wish it was NFL time. Basketball sucks.

9. One of my couch cushions is noticeably cleaner than the others. I wonder if that Resolve upholstery cleaner is any good?

10. We had a cow slaughtered and processed- $196 for 585 pounds of beef. That is .34 per pound--steaks, roasts, and loads of ground beef. Guess what we'll be eating this spring and summer? I've been paying $2.00+ per pound for ground round.

11. I have fifty dollars in my cash stash drawer. This is pathetic, but I cannot remember the last time that I intentionally set aside cash to have for miscellaneous purposes. I'm soooo bad with money. This fifty makes me feel very happy. I'm putting ten bucks per week in the drawer. I think I will use it to buy myself a new swimsuit. Or some really great spring/summer shoes. Or to pay school fees for next year. Ugh. Kids are so expensive.

12. Our school has a new dress code next year--the kids have to wear solid shirts w/ a collar in one of six colors--navy and white are the county-wide colors and then our school added light blue, red, black and pink. Naturally we have approximately five shirts between three kids that will meet these regulations. I imagine part of #11 will also be used to purchase school shirts. I'm conflicted about this--I like the idea of being able to dress them easier and in the long run, it will make life easier because we won't have so many clothes, but I also hate the idea of seeing nothing but blue and red and the occassional pink. It's going to be weird.

13. My parents' 41st anniversary is coming up and I want to send them something because I never do. I'm thinking about an edible fruit bouquet, but they're sort of pricey and my mother could make one of them on her own for far less and that nags at the one frugal bone I have. But the idea of presents is to splurge on a treat, right? Ugh. I don't know.

14. I cannot believe that The Closer won't start new episodes until frigging JULY. Pisses me off.

Labels: food, my life, pain in general, physical exertion, ramble, who doesn't love a list

1. Your husband has to turn your water on and off at the meter due to a broken pipe that was discovered just before dark.
2. Your heater blew a fuse and you made not one, but two trips in the freezing cold to go buy replacements.
3. You did that in your slippers.
4. You have a very unfortunate gas problem of such proportion that your husband complains loudly and bitterly, which will undoubtedly make work incredibly miserable if not resolved.
5. The oil light flashed off and on and then off again while you were trekking out in the elements to get fuses.
6. Your microwave popcorn smells foul when popping.
7. You have an obscene amount of laundry that needs to be folded or washed or dealt with.
8. You need to wash your hair, but the whole water and heat thing make that task unpleasant.
9. The only person in a worse mood than you is your hateful, snippy spouse.
10. You have three final exams due to the principal by noon tomorrow, but you only have one completed and you have a meeting during your planning period.

Labels: mr kim, my life, teaching, who doesn't love a list

Labels: burninh questions, my life

Well, he's greatly reduced, anyway. The doctor took pity on me today and let me walk-in. He was suitably impressed with the size and depth of Homer--he compared it to a small child--and promptly had me on the table and proceeded to numb it, then drain it and then shoot the empty cavern full of cortisone. Nikki the Nurse wrapped me with a compression bandage that I have to leave on for 24 hours (it is bugging to no end right now because the velcro is pokey). There is still a little bit of fluid in there, but hopefully this will take care of him. I go back to see the doctor on the 31st and hopefully Homer will be a distant memory.

Labels: my life, pain in general

Sure, the money would be fantastic and who WOULDN'T like to be able to go where ever you want, but tonight at Kroger I realized how absolutely sucky it would be to have paps following you around when you are just trying to live.



Why would this revelation come to me, you ask? Well, it's like this. Here in my little corner of Tennessee (metaphoric corner, of course, since I live in Middle Tennessee which is decidedly corner-free), we are experiencing a little Arctic weather--I think the high today was like 23, which, in said metaphoric corner of Tennessee, translates to minus 40 someplace like North Dakota or, for the rest of our Southern or Western friends can best be assessed as butt ass cold. We heat with our woodstove and supplement with our gas central unit. I was gone for the weekend with the boys and W. was at home alone, so in typical Scrooge McW fashion, he kept it pretty darn cold here. I immediately shed my blue jeans and cute Old Navy cotton sweater w/Gap tneck (Goodwill tops and ebay jeans--grand total was less than $25 and I looked very chic with my cute black cap that I grabbed at KMart on clearance for 2.99 and gray scarf that I found at Aeropostale for 70% off the $12.99 sale...I do love bargains) and I threw on some sweats and a sweatshirt, heavy socks, the cold-weather works, you know?



I had to take W. to work (bless his heart, he's working 7-7 night shift tonight) and was freezing even more so in the car. Once I got home, I decided that I really needed some popcorn because I had to watch two episodes of TAR and some other DVR stuff. Naturally, I was out of popcorn. That alone would not have made me brave the cold to make my way to Kroger, but then I realize that we were out of milk, so I decided that I had to make a grocery run. I was wearing deidedly UNCUTE clothing...Five's track pants that are uber wide legged and baggy, one of W.'s xxl seatshirts and then a fleece over that (ftr, when you put a men's small fleece over a men's 2x sweatshirt, the effect is mushy to say the least). Because it was so cold, I wrapped my previously-mentioned gray scarf all around my neck and up to my ears. Add in my cute black hat again and some fuzzy gloves and I was set. As I was walking in, I had a fleeting thought, "I hope I don't see anyone that I know here." And then it hit me--it would SUCK to feel I had to dress up to go to Kroger.

As any teacher will tell you, being seen out IRL can be somewhat unnerving. Since I teach in a K-12 school, the little ones know me. When I'm shopping, I'll hear, "That's her!" or "Look, Mommy, there's Mrs. Sam's Mom!" God forbid anyone have a camera with them.

Anyway, I went into Kroger and caught a glimpse of myself on the overhead tv monitor and suddenly felt sorry for Julia Roberts for a second--I mean, the grocery is a place we should be able to dash in dressed one step up (or down in my case) from pajamas and do your business. I kept pulling my hat down lower and lower as I shopped to keep from being recognized. I can almost sort of see why Britney might go around the bend, kwim? Not that me going to Kroger is an event in anyone's mind, but that feeling that everyone is looking at you is bad enough when you're normal like and in reality no one actually IS looking. For her, though, you know they're looking and photographing and then bitchy chicks like me will be blogging about it. It would take a lot of Hermes bags and sporty Mercedes convertibles to make that all right.

Labels: fashion, my life, public humiliation

Christmas is almost over here in Middle Tennessee. The kids and W. are long since asleep. Me, I had to wait up until 11.30 so I could take my last dose of Demerol for the night--the knee is being partiularly ornery tonight. I did fine most of the day, and I suppose I overdid things--the back is has a nasty looking knot on it. I shudder to think what is inside that knot--it's looking a bit red and funky, so I think I'll be calling the doctor just to check in. I need this to heal, not drag out into some medical horror story.

Anyway, today was a very lovely, laid-back Christmas. W. was up around 4.30 to make breakfast before he went to work--he definitely has some keeper qualities. Steak, country ham and biscuits. Yummy. I had planned to get up around the same time, but since I was up in the middle of the night dealing with an asthmaticly coughing 8-year-old, I 'slept in' until 5.00. I'm such a bum, lol. Got up and puttered around in the living room getting things just right and then we woke the kids up around 5.15 or so. It took about ten minutes to get them up and going, but once they were awake, they were bouncing. It was so much fun to see Jay and Sam's reactions to their loot. Five was more subdued--it's hard when one of your presents costs two or three times what a brother's does. I tried really hard to make sure they each got three 'big' gifts and then supplemented. I got this idea from a friend--she explains to her kids that Jesus was given three special gifts and that's why we get gifts now. My kids have actually gotten much more into the whole list thing since I told them to just choose three things. They put lots of thought into it and shuffle stuff around as needed.

The Moon Shoes that Jay wanted are actually sort of cool. I'm sure they will just be a novelty, but I liked the idea that they required physical activity, so even if he plays with them once a month, that's better than sitting watching tv for that time. Sam got a scooter--he didn't ask for one, but again, I'm trying to push the outside activities. He said that Santa must really like him to bring such a cool scooter AND a red helmet (red is his favorite color). Five tried to be excited about the fact that he got clothes from Santa--I know he wsn't, but it was stuff he needed, so I decided to add it in to his very paltry looking pile of DVD/PS2 games and a huge Beatles Anthology book.

W. had to go to work at 6.45, so that left me and the boys home alone for the day. Our present to him was a clean house, so we played and napped (them and me) and then I organized a fairly effective cleaning of the dining room (the table had been buried for months upon months). We had to move loads of junk here and there--well, I say 'we', but it was mainly Five. Now there is a huge mess in the office, but I've decided that it makes more sense for one room to be a disaster than for six of them to be, so we started the offloading today. I had Jay on his hands and knees cleaning baseboards and Sam was dusting window sills. By the end of the afternoon, the dining room was shining, a bathroom had been cleaned, the hall had been swept (mostly) and the baseboards in the halls, dining room and part of the kitchen were clean. Floors were mopped and vac'd and everything just looked better overall. Tomorrow and Thursday are bedroom days. They will be painful.

Nice time at MIL's for Christmas dinner. I didn't take any cooked food this year thanks to SIL having pity on me being crippled and on my own. We didn't have any other folks at MIL's, so it was very easygoing and chatty. My boys were hell on wheels, but that's the norm when they get in a confined space without a television or other distraction. The fart putty (or toot in a can as Sam calls it) certainly didn't do much to calm them, lmao.

I went to pick up W. and took him back to MIL's so he could eat and do gifts--he'd worked a 12 hour shift at the hospital and was pretty dead. His feet didn't hurt as much and I am crediting the diabetic socks that I gave him. No, I don't know what makes socks 'diabetic', but I figured they would be comfy and easy on the feet, so I bought them. We'll do a comparison tomorrow to see if it was the socks or not.

So, another Christmas in the books. It's hard to believe that I've been doing the Santa gig since 1993...that's 14 times. It's even harder to believe that I'm over halfway done doing it...and just about to the point where I don't have a believer. Today Sam said, "Wow, Santa sure is a generous man." I almost cried it was so sweet. And while it will be nice, I suppose, to get the credit for the gifts in a few years, I don't know that they will be nearly as awe-inspiring as they are right now. That's a little bit sad.

I hope everyone (or three) that reads this has had an equally blessed Christmas. Take it easy this week and let's get ready to welcome in 2008--the year that I personally feel will be Kimmah's Year.

Labels: funny kids, getting old, holidays, my life, serious

i'm in absolute slug mode, which is condition normal, i have to admit. my house? a fricking wreck. my classroom? oy. it needs a separate post, but it was rained in again yesterday and i've got a pile of stuff to deal with. my van? must be cleaned.

and here i am, sitting on the couch, blogging.

i'm leaving for chattanooga/japser tomorrow right after work. i am spending two nights away from home. sam is going to spend the night with sil. this means clothing and such should be packed into some sort of recepticals. nothing is, of course. in fact, the gym bag i took with me last weekend? has yet to be unpacked.

i don't want to actually DO anything. must snap out of it--have lovely, visit with old friends, hang with my mom and aunt plans for wednesday-friday, but i'm guessing that wearing the same clothes all three days and not putting on any makeup or deodorant would probably mar those experiences somewhat.

am off. to pack. seriously. has to be done. am on it. right now. in a minute. just need to check my email......

Labels: my life, ramble, travel

One week from today I will be preparing to don a lovely black robe and try not to look bored as our little darlings participate in commencement. One week and one day from now, I will be kicked back on my couch drinking wine and reveling in the fact that I don't have to look at more little darlings for two whole months. One week and two days from now, I'll try to post something remotely interesting and potentially meaningful or at least current.

End of the year kicks my ass every stinking year.

Labels: my life, teaching, work stuff

I've been thinking a lot this weekend and it has dawned on me that I am blessed to have a multitude of fantastic friends in all facets of my world. I don't really appreciate it nearly enough most of the time--I just take it for granted, and I shouldn't. I have a tendency to overlook those friends who are from a long time ago or those who aren't "real" people, just online sometimes, and that's bad because no matter how little I see them, they are still friends and I am one of the absolute luckiest people alive in the friend department.

• Friends who will take my kids to and from school.
• Friends who will cover my classes for me.
• Friends who will let me show up and spend the night with them without much warning.
• Friends who will ride around aimlessly just to cruise and talk.
• Friends who share hashbrown casserole with me.
• Friends who correct my grammar and spelling when needed.
• Friends who appreciate geeky grammar and literature moments as much as I do.
• Friends who cheer with me when the evil bookkeeper and Bubblehead leave school.
• Friends who will sit and shred dumb people mercilessly.
• Friends who will banter back and forth in a thread about nothing for 100 posts just because.
• Friends who cheer on my most mundane accomplishment.
• Friends who drink with me.
• Friends who sit in the rain with me and drink.
• Friends who get the inside jokes and appreciate them.
• Friends who know exactly the right things to say to me, whether it's, "You're right" or "You're crazy" or "Damn it, Kim".
• Friends who appreciate good hair days.
• Friends who share their lunch with me.
• Friends who have known me forever and still like me.
• Friends who loathe stupid people as much as I do.
• Friends who share their good concert seats with me.
• Friends who can pick up conversation after years like we saw each other yesterday.
• Friends who worry about me more than I worry about myself.
• Friends who get more excited for me over events in my life than I ever could.
• Freinds who get frustrated with me, but still come back.
• Friends who lend me clothes.
• Friends who never say, "I told you so", even when it's due.
• Friends who teach me things.
• Friends who debate with me.
• Friends who make me think.
• Friends who have changed my view of the world.
• Friends who can keep secrets.
• Friends who entertain me.
• Friends who amuse me.
• Friends who inspire me.
• Friends who read my endless, blabby chatter here and other places.

Friends whom I love. Dearly.

Labels: college friends, imaginary friends, my life, serious, who doesn't love a list

I was pulled from a very sound sleep by Jay yelling every mother's favorite words: MOM, I PUKED!

Thinking back, I actually think I heard Jay puke, but I wasn't awake enough to process it. When he screeched his announcement, though, I was suddenly wide awake. I ran to his room to see him kneeling on his top bunk and a big puke puddle visible. He was sort of frantic and I couldn't get him to focus on getting down-he just said he felt weird. He's way too big for me to pick up and pull off the bunk, so he sat there for a few seconds, shaking his head. And then...

More puking.

All over his bed again. And I saw it. Lovely. And he woke Sam up. He felt instantly better, though, and somehow I got the sheet off the corner and he was able to start climbing down. Sam yelped from the bottom bunk that puke had dripped on his head. Moved him to the other end of his bed and worked on getting the sheet off, Jay moved, etc. Jay felt fine after the vomit. No troubles. Rinsed his mouth and I went about setting him up in my bed.

Once he was in, I realized I'd left the light on in their room, so I went to turn it off. Sam was awake and staring at the doorway. I asked him what was wrong. He said, "I can hear puke dripping down on my bed and it is freaking me out." Pleasant. I didn't see it, but sent him on to my bed, too. He got up between W. and Jay and I set about changing my clothes so I could take up residence on the couch. I had the bathroom door closed, when I heard W. yell, "Open the door!" I threw it open and made room for Jay, only to see Sam whizzing in and hanging over the toilet. About the time Jay said, "He's just faking", Sam unleashed.

More puking.

The volume was incredible considering the child only ate one slice of pizza and drank maybe one glass of milk. I was rather dumbfounded. I was also very proud. Sam is such a good puker; there was barely any mess on the toilet. I've trained him well. Once he was done, he rinsed and wiped and declared himself better.

So now, 45 minutes and three pukes later, I'm lying on the couch and W. and the two spewers are back in my room sleeping, hopefully. They both ate meatlovers pizza from Papa John's for dinner last night. As I left the room, I asked W. if he ate any of theirs. He didn't answer. It dawned on me when I settled in that I did eat the toppings off of one piece. Am hopeful that my rapid digestive system has somehow been spared--I think I would have already been sick by now, surely. Hopefully.

Labels: my life, sick kids, vomit, whine

I've gotten rather lax on the blogging thing lately. Not exactly sure why--I just can't seem to focus long enough to type something out that makes sense. Probably because things in real life are rather hectic. My list:

1. School--spring break is upon us and that means that kids are in antsy mode. It's always fun to try and pound sentence structure and comma splices into the heads of vacation-minded 15-year-old boys.

2. School pt. 2--it has suddenly turned into summer, despite the impending SPRING break and we've been treated to high temps ranging from 82-88 this week. Sounds great? Well, it might if we were in an air conditioned building during the day. As we are not, it is like some form of torture. There has been no discernible breeze, no relief of any kind from my ancient fan, and no hint of artifical coolant. My room is on the west side of the building with 6-foot windows to let in loads and loads of blistering heat just in time for my class of 35 juniors and seniors. Sweltering doesn't even come close to describing it--actually, if we could just swelter, we'd be happy.

3. School pt. 3--because it's the end of the year and I teach seniors, it's also field trip time. Normally this happens in April-May, but we've started early this year. The new quarter started March 9. Since that day, I have not yet had all of my students in my 4th block Theatre Arts class (the one with 35 kids) at school and in class at the same time. Not one day. My attendance book looks like some sort of weird modern heiroglyphics with all the absents, tardies, field trips, doctor's notes and other sundry markings. It's a nightmare. Today was our last day of class because we have an assembly tomorrow. On the day before Spring Break. Good thing I don't give grades on written work in there or I'd never get the make-ups done.

4. School pt. 4--I'm on the retirement-party-planning committees for TWO different teachers this spring. I've also agreed to plan a little something for another teacher's 50th birthday on Friday. I also have to sort out three days' worth of lesson plans before I leave on Friday. I also have to clean off my desk. I also have to turn in my grade verifications. I also have to stay at school until seven again tomorrow night for inservice and then spend all day Friday in meetings that are stupid and boring and useless to anything that I do for a living.

5. Vacation--I leave for London on April 9. Wooohooo! That's a good thing. I'll be back on April 19.

6. Vacation pt. 2--Before I leave I have to pack up clothes for the kids to take to my parents' house for a week. I also need to clean my house because it is gross.

7. Vacation pt. 3--I haven't even thought about starting to pack for myself yet and I don't have any decent walking shoes. Oh, and London is insane expensive and I have not saved one penny toward spending money. Not one red cent.

8. Life in general--all I seem to have time for is wake up, work, home to eat, Y, home to put kids to bed, read online for an hour, go to bed. Something has to give.

9. Stupid things--oh, I also have time to go to the tanning bed. Skin cancer is a terrible thing and some day I'm going to really be pissed off at myself; however, I have no plans to quit going until I am suitably browned. I usually don't mind being fashionably pale, but for some reason this year, it has bugged me. Maybe because summer started in March.

10. Pets--we have a chick named Austin. Sam brought it home from school--they kept eggs in an incubator. If Austin survives chickhood, it will be a miracle. A bloody miracle. Sam has picked him up two dozen times a day, he's carried him around the house and he's taken him out to play in the front yard. Poor Austin has been a trooper through it al. I'll be most relieved when he goes to live at the farm--which shouldn't be much longer because he's got an incredible vertical jump and he's going to leap out of his box any minute. He bangs his head on the books we have covering him for every so often.

I think that's it for now. I'm going to attempt to catch up on blog reading. I don't have much faith that I will get far, though.

Labels: my life, ramble, rant, teaching, whine, work stuff

I don't think I am overstating things one iota when I say that when an 8th-grade boy with some special ed tendancies comes up to you and says, "Hey, Mrs. W., how are you? Your hair looks really bad today. It's sort of sticking up all over the sides", that you are, in fact, having a really bad hair day.

Soon after, I called and made my hair appointment for Saturday.

Labels: hair stuff, helpful beauty hints, my life, public humiliation

It's been a strange day, this, my 38th birthday. Good God, that looks really old. Anyway, my morning started off fairly well--got up on time, was ready for work early, no rush. Nice. Then I get to school and the first thing up is an exam for my British Lit class. One of the students happend to come up to me just before the class started and ask me a question about a worksheet that she had. At first I answered her without really thinking, then it dawned on me--the sheet she was showing me was an old copy of the exam. WHAT THE HELL? After a couple of questions, I quickly discovered that no student foul-play had occurred. What HAD occurred?

Labels: celebration, hair stuff, my life, ramble, rant

I'm sitting here on my substantial posterior doing absolutley nothing today. W. is on a trip for the weekend, so it's just me and the boys. Well, not all of them--Five went to a church retreat last night and won't be home until Sunday, so it's just me and the little guys, but only until 4:00. At 4:00, they'll both be leaving--one to spend the night with MIL and the other to go to a Predators game, so it will be just me, myself and I for six or seven hours.

For some reason, perhapsin part because I'm just giddy at the prospect of being all alone this evening, I've been rendered immobile because I cannot seem to get up and do diddly today. It isn't the engaging content on the internet that's distracting me because I appear to be one of five people online today. It's not the television programming because right now its one of Court TVs true-crime shows and I have no clue what's going on. It isn't a lack of sleep because I went to bed at 10 and didn't wake until 8. I suppose it can only be one thing--I'm a lazy slug. *sigh*

Eventually I'm going to have to drag myself from my bed and supervise the showering and dressing of the two kiddos and make myself presentable. Then, I'll drop them where they need to be and proceed to my favorite steak place and get something takeout for dinner ( steak and chicken combo that is to die for...rib-eye and marinated chicken breast, both of which just melt in your mouth), eat in front of something on my DVR backlog, and at 7, treat myself to the movies-Music and Lyrics. I really SHOULD be cleaning something, sorting something or doing sme sort of household improvements or at the very least going to the Y and using some sort of equipment, but that just seems so very daunting right now. I really am a lazy slug, it seems.

Labels: food, going to watch video on Dweeze's blog, my life, physical exertion, ramble, rant

This is really going to be my year. I can just feel it. Somewhere among the chaos and confusion and carnage that is sure to lie ahead, I will be celebrated for the spectacular person that I really am. Or, if that doesn't pan out, I feel confident that I will at least look fanfuckingtastic since I am now losing weight and actually eating in a somewhat healthy manner. No matter about those things, though, because the one thing that is guaranteed to make 2007 the best damn year ever is this:

BUBBLEHEAD IS RETIRING!

Yes, kids, you heard it here first. The worst boss in the history of bosses is, after much pain and suffering on the part of her staff, riding off into the florescent glow of the Hobby Lobby lights and bidding us farewell as of June 30. There are simply not words to describe my glee, my exuberance, my outright ecstasy at this turn of events.

Needless to say, we won't be shedding to many tears on June 30 and we may all be shitfaced, rolling drunk from celebrating on July 1. All I know is that suddenly 2007 became my all-time favorite year and I'm going to savor every day of it.

*edited to remove details that were a little to personal and potentially identifying*

Labels: announcements, my life, work stuff

anyone home?

I don't really know HOW I managed to fuck things up so utterly and completely with my server and my blogger publishing, but it was totally fubar. Thankfully, the Bug made me do it. I was IM'ing with her and I realized how much I was missing out on by being a cyberhermit, so here I am. I've got lots of pent-up issues, so beware.

I'm sure I'm missing people's links, so if you've got them to share, please let me know.

Labels: buggy, my life

Unless your Labor Day weekend involves:

Gocery shopping not once, but twice.
Cleaning your stove.
Shopping at Wal Mart with small children.
Cleaning a pantry.
Sorting shitloads of laundry.
Vacuuming until Dyson himself would pass out from exhaustion.
Cleaning boys' bathrooms.

then you can safely assume that my weekend sucked a million and half times worse than yours did.

Labels: my life

I've been in a real snit at work lately, so I've not felt like blogging much when I get home. The oppressive nature of shitty administration, fuckwits in local government and a complete and total breakdown of all professional-style communication has just beaten me into submission for the time being.

I swore I was going to be a "happy" person this school year--really, I was, but there has been NOTHING to generate even the slightest inspiration that would lead me to a sunnier outlook, so I've been a bitch. The role as the bitch suits me, I realize, and it is ever-so-much more rewarding to be able to call bullshit when I see it instead of meekly going along with the status quo and hoping that change is going to just fall out of the sky.

The downside is that I'm probably slitting my own throat professionally, but these days, I don't think i even care. I suppose it has to do with being true to onself....I don't actually think that I'm a bitch, per se, but I'm sure that the name has been thrown my way and I'll do nothing to deny it. I'm happy to be considered that if it means that I'm standing up for what I believe in and questioning stupidity when ever possible. There is no "i" in team, but there is in bitch and I'm only just now discovering how powerful that can be.

Labels: bitchy, my life, rant

No Child Left Behind, while it sounds admirable, is the dumbest damn thing I've ever encountered as a teacher. I would post more, but we're on a target list, so I'll be busy trying to figure out how to help special ed students get regular diplomas so that the education higher ups will stop counting them as drop outs...of course, those same higher ups wouldn't actually want to come down and try to TEACH a child who can't memorize something how to pass an Algebra I exam. Nah, that would be too easy. It's easier to just say, "Teachers suck" and make the kids feel like crap.

Labels: my life, rant, serious

ROFLMAO! Jay is playing football again this fall and he moved up to the league where they wear full pads, helmet, etc. Tonight was the night to get the pads. He was soooo thrilled. He talked all day about getting his "gear" and how he hoped it didn't rain it out.

We arrived and waited amongst the masses--so terribly unorganized--only to find out that he's been practicing with the wrong team for a WEEK, but that didn't seem to bother him and we met his actual coaches and they were super-nice and welcomed him to the group like he was one of their own.

Anyway, long ass line after a 90-minute wait and he FINALLY comes out with his "gear" on. As I'm helping him tighten up the laces on his chest, he tells me that he likes the armor the best....yes, only my child would go get shoulder pads and end up referring to them as "armor".

Sam, meanwhile, was equally enthralled with Jay's score. He told Jay that he sure was lucky to have the cool stuff and now he could be some weird cartoon character now that he has a "two-tonned tunic" to wear. He was, of course, referring to the "armor", er, shoulder pads.

Methinks my children are geeks.

Labels: funny kids, my life

Who ever coined that phrase didn't have children, pets, a yard or a house.

Yeah, I've been lazy to a point, but dammit, it's from sheer exhaustion or an attempt to hide from the 9,407 tasks that I should be doing.

I don't know why I'm always so eager for summer break every year--I'm more frantic than ever, I think.

Must go to swimming and then hurry home to pack last minute things for the boys and go drop two off for a visit to Nana and then back home to prep Sam for a tonsillectomy tomorrow. This weekend will be spent nursing him, trying to get to a t-ball ceremony and continuing the quest to find my closet floors and flat surfaces. Next week, the Goodwill man will know know me on a first name basis since I anticipate a daily, if not twice daily visit to drop stuff.

School starts in less than TWO weeks for me. I'm almost excited about it.

Labels: my life, ramble

They um, pretty much suck.

Never let it be said that I am without profound insight into life.

Labels: announcements, my life, rant

I'm off to tackle a monstrous amount of laundry in a public washing facility. I do this from time to time out of sheer frustration and in order to wash the really big things all at once--spreads, blankets, coats, etc. I just found Jay's winter coat that had been left in my classroom since, what February? in a box of junk that I'd dropped at the end of school. Needless to say, it needs a wash. So, off I go--dressed in the appropriate costume of slouchy clothes and a ballcap, practically no makeup (mascara, though, natch), bottle of water, real estate book and calculater (grrrrr), and four giant receptacles filled with an assortment of things in need of laundering, some detergent, a few hangers and the fabric softener...oh, and fuckload of cash for the change machine. It's always something of a social experiment and even if I don't get much studying done, my van will smell nice and I will have plenty of blog fodder when I return.

Labels: my life, ramble, white trash

I've never claimed to be anything that I'm not, well, other than allowing folks to think I'm a redhead and not really correcting people who assume that I'm essentially perfect, but on the really core things, I'm pretty good at admitting my own shortcomings. As such, I'm submitting the following statement:


Seriously. And I'm not even giving to hyperbole as is my natural tendency. I swear on Pythagoras, Newton and even the beloved Aristotle that I'm just about two steps over incompetent when it comes to anthing that involves "computations" or "figuring" or "forumlas". For some of you, this is probably incomprehensible because I have some very smart friends--some of whom even make their living doing all sorts of bizarre things with numbers that I can't even fathom (hello, Cary and Tonya)--but for me, math might as well be presented in Russian pig Latin because I'm totally and completely bumfuzzled by pretty much all of it.

There are those who would be embarrassed to admit this. Me? Not so much. You see, I've come to embrace my complete lack of mathmatical comprehension. Really, there's no sense in fighting it--one might as well try to make a lefty thread a needle with their right-hand as make me figure algebra. It's against my nature, you see. I'm a word person, not a number person--or I should say an abstract and concept person, not a concrete and application person, since I do very much enjoy a nice Suduko-- and it's time that those who are of my ilk stand tall and be proud.

We Englishy types have a tremendous skill set that should be embraced; we create something from nothing. We dissect the written word and add to the breadth and depth of the human experience...or at least give folks something to read in the bathroom or on the subway and I think there's a universal appreciation of either one of those contributions. The fact that we can't figure out percentages without a calculator, a forumla and a quizzical look is really irrevelavant in the grand scheme of life because, honestly, when is one NOT going to be able to find some sort of calculator-things on the Internet or a little cheat sheet for your wallet to help you with that? Ratios? I mean, really? Ditto on that one. Area, volume, blah, blah, blah...in this day and age, one can buy any mannner of little gizmos to measure and calculate the stuff for you. All one has to do is point and click and make the laser stand straight and then hit enter. Trained chimps are capable of that...but can they craft a poem? Are they able to make someone cry from laughing or yell at their computer monitor simply by writing a paragraph? I think not. They can fling poo, swing around on ropes, play with toys and solve puzzles and puzzles=math when you get right down to it, so, well, you see the correlation, don't you? I mean, I took statistics for my doctorate program (and actually made a B) and I'm sure that I could make that work given the time and the effort and the right little computer program with which to run some sort of T-test or whatnot.

Englishy people are entirely too creative and nuturing to be worried with the constraints of something like a formula. Mathy folks like to do things in a certain order and if you screw up and multiply before you've added your dear Aunt Sally or whatever, then nothing you do after that will be correct. Or, if you've been asked to create some sort of statistical analysis, half a page of work can be for naught simply because you accidently forgot that 2x2 was 4 and not, say, 2 and then you'd have to erase an entire page of work and start all over again with a ridiculous table of numbers and you'd be worrying about running out of time on your exam, so you'd start to stress...well, uh, you get the picture. Math is very structured and confining--one could almost compare it to a jail of the mind, I think.

English? It's free and flowing. We let you put subjects and verbs just about anywhere you please. Want a sentence with one word? Fine. How about a sentence that has two hundred words? Go right ahead. If you can't think of just the right word, then by all means, just make one up. We're not elitist. You don't have to be some dead Greek in order to have control with the Englishy...even if we do pay an inordinate amount of attention to commas and Shakespeare, we're really very flexy on just about anything when you get right down to it. Some where along the way, we realized that we could have rules just like the Mathy folks, but we could also adapt those rules so that more people could play and, to be perfectly honest, so that we wouldn't all have to do the detail thing that some of us aren't really so great at. Voila! If you're an Englishy type, you may create your own style. Doesn't that sound divine? How very dashing and all, and there's just no way in the world that a Mathy person could ever get away with creating a new style for doing calculus. How dreary is that? The one time that anyone really tried to be adventurous in math was when the idea of New Math came along and, while I'm not even sure to this day what that was, it was pretty much roundly criticized by whom? Mathy types, of course. They're very proprietary, methinks.

My real estate class has served to highlight what I already knew--I'm not so much of a detail person. One has to be to be a Mathy person. I'm forever forgetting a decimal here or a zero there and, unlike a rough draft, it actually, uh, matters in figuring out interest rates or market values. There isn't a Math Check, which is just a damn shame, because it would really make things easier.

I'd like to be able to have a calculator that allowed me to choose a task, say, "Capitalization Rate" (I know, you don't really give a damn about a Cap Rate, either, but play along, just don't ask me to explain it because, frankly, I can't) and then be presented with a screen. Sort of like Word does when I choose New Document. Then when I enter totally stupid figures that don't have a chance in hell of computing correctly, I'd like a nice squiggly green or red line and some text to alert me. For example, if I'm supposed to figure out the value of a property with a cap rate of 25% and a net yearly income of $15,000 per month, there's a myriad of problems that can arise.

You divided the percentage rate by the income a property generates. Note that the number you have could not possibly, in any currency, be converted to a value of any kind. The forumula is Rate/Income=Value.

See, how helpful that would be? Instead, I get this:

.0000192

And no helpful hint, no suggestions, nothing. For those of us who are more literal and, I'll admit it, spastic when using a calculator, there is now a conundrum of sorts.

1. Did I enter the numbers wrong?
2. Should this convert to something and if so, what?
3. Was I supposed to divide or multiply?
4. Damn, how do you move the decimal again? Did I put a decimal in the percent?
5. What was the question again?

So, we have to start all over. Obviously, even I can't make .00092 turn into a number that is even remotely representative of value, so if you flip the two, you can get this:

60000

Which at least could be a value, but it's wrong.

In order to figure Cap Rate, you should use the Net Yearly Income, not the Net Monthly Income, which anyone with a basic understanding of simple accounting or who had read the book would know.

Ha! Screw you, pretend real estate calculator and math and logical thinking and Mr. Pythagoras and Texas Instruments and even that stupid little pi. Phfffft. The fact that I'm not one with my algebraic self is of no consequence to me. My inability to string together long sets of numbers and come up with numbers that don't make my calculator go EEEE is irritating, yes, but look at all the words I can string along. So what if the most important Mathy thing that I really care about is Word Count or my PIN number? That's why God made bankers and CPAs and all those other Mathy people--to serve at the will of the Englishy, who will in turn, entertain the masses and shape culture and history for years to come with our finely crafted words and painstakingly edited bits of literary goodness.

Disclaimer: Of course, when I get my real estate license, I will pretend to be pseudo Mathy and turn all actual mathmatical stuff over to W. or some fine assistant if one of the numerous gadgets that I'll be purchasing should fail me. I do like that other numbery-thing--money--after all.

Labels: English, my life, rant, real estate, work stuff