My children are driving me crazy. I'll fix them! They're going back to school next Thursday. So there! They can put that in their pipes and smoke them. How do they like them apples?
I have contracted a bad case of dontwanttodoanythingitis. There is no cure.
I had some leftover soup for lunch, which was more like colored salty water, since HH and the #1 son eat soup like it is a stew. They don't even need bowls for their soup. They can eat it with a fork. I drank mine out of a cup. I could have used a straw. A narrow cocktail-stirring straw.
The bridge workers take a lunch break from 11:00 to 2:00. Then they hang the trash on a tree. If they think of it, they burn the trash on the giant levee of dirt and rocks they have created on one side of our road. Yesterday, it was still flaming when we drove by. We passed those workers on the county road as they were leaving. At 3:30. They had not yet started work that morning when we drove by at 8:15. It's a good job if you can get it, I suppose. Plus, they get to wear those neon green shirts.
I am a bad-driver magnet. When people get near me, they forget that their vehicle is equipped with signals. They lose all depth perception, and think I am much farther away than I appear. They think the center turn lane is a conglomeration of decorative lines. Those in front of me are timid, and drive 10 miles under the speed limit. Those behind me are daredevils, and want to drive faster than my 10 miles over the speed limit.
Tomorrow I'm going back to school to see if I still have a SmartBoard. I'm not holding my breath.
I gave T-Hoe a treat of 7-11 gas instead of Casey's General Store gas. That is because my last tank of Casey's gas netted me a whopping 14.9 miles per gallon. That was not the T-Hoe I know. I thought he was sick. Then I remembered the time Ol' LSUV got sick on Casey's gas. He choked and sputtered like a bronchitis patient running a 100 yard dash through a tire incineration plant. Now don't you fret over the past health of Ol' LSUV. He was fine after being hospitalized for a fuel filter transplant. It so happened that the last tank of Casey's gas in T-Hoe came from the exact same Casey's General Store. There's no shortage of them around here. There are five of them that I pass on a weekly basis. But I felt guilty about feeding my dear T-Hoe junk food. So I splurged another 10 cents per gallon for the midgrade at 7-11. It cost me a total of $2 more for the 20 gallons I pumped in. And on this tank, I'm getting 15.8 miles per gallon. Upon much mathing, I figured that on this 20 gallons, I can go 298 miles on the Casey's gas, and 316 miles on the 7-11 gas. That's 18 miles more. That's a little over a gallon of gas that I save by paying $2 more. Since I paid $3.60 per gallon for the good stuff, I still come out over $1.60 better. If I take that times 52 weeks in a year, I can save at least $83.20 while I pay $3.60 per gallon. Just by feeding T-Hoe the good stuff. I'm not ready to put him on the gourmet diet, though. The super-duper gas will have to wait. I don't think I'm ready to pay 20 cents per gallon more.
Don't you hate mathies?
The #1 son is going to a sleepover paintball pool party tomorrow night. I am worried that I can't be there to overprotect him.
I don't feel prepared for school to start next Thursday. But I seem to be catching dontcareitis along with my other malady. I am teaching the exact same subjects I taught last year. Which hasn't happened in...oh...since I've been at this school. Which has been 10 years. What could possibly go wrong? If it was good enough for last year, it's good enough for this year. Right, Mabel?
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Stop HM Before She Adopts Again
Oops! I did it again. But please don't call me Britney. Angelina would be more fitting. Or, if you're from a different era...Mia.
Today I made another addition to the family. I barely know her yet. The #1 son has been playing with her all afternoon, and The Pony has grown quite jealous. We didn't even have to go to China to pick her up, though I will admit there was a fee. She really was not planned. It was one of those spur-of-the-moment adoptions. The #1 son came up with the idea yesterday while we were at school. And I thought, what the h*ll, we can afford to take her into our Mansion.
The boy found her on the internet. She is originally from Japan. And she was handpicked just for ME. #1 could hardly sleep last night, what with the anticipation of bringing her home the very next day. He rushed me through my unpaid school work day. "Isn't it time to leave, Mom?" I had planned on 11:00, but it was 11:20 when we got out of there.
We had to drive T-Hoe to a neighboring town to see if she was ready for us. She was. Lucky we got there when we did, because the guy in charge thought she had already been given to someone else. Whew! That would have been a load of disappointment all around. Except for The Pony. The #1 son carried her to the car, cradled in his arms, and set her in the back seat right behind him, next to The Pony, who was indifferent. When we got home, she was the first thing he carried into the Mansion. He set her on the couch until he finished carrying in our other stuff, then he sat down beside her, stroking her sides with his sweaty 13-year-old palms. The next thing I knew, he had slit her open from stem to stern with my kitchen shears.
I am going to call her Shiba.
My new Toshiba laptop.
Today I made another addition to the family. I barely know her yet. The #1 son has been playing with her all afternoon, and The Pony has grown quite jealous. We didn't even have to go to China to pick her up, though I will admit there was a fee. She really was not planned. It was one of those spur-of-the-moment adoptions. The #1 son came up with the idea yesterday while we were at school. And I thought, what the h*ll, we can afford to take her into our Mansion.
The boy found her on the internet. She is originally from Japan. And she was handpicked just for ME. #1 could hardly sleep last night, what with the anticipation of bringing her home the very next day. He rushed me through my unpaid school work day. "Isn't it time to leave, Mom?" I had planned on 11:00, but it was 11:20 when we got out of there.
We had to drive T-Hoe to a neighboring town to see if she was ready for us. She was. Lucky we got there when we did, because the guy in charge thought she had already been given to someone else. Whew! That would have been a load of disappointment all around. Except for The Pony. The #1 son carried her to the car, cradled in his arms, and set her in the back seat right behind him, next to The Pony, who was indifferent. When we got home, she was the first thing he carried into the Mansion. He set her on the couch until he finished carrying in our other stuff, then he sat down beside her, stroking her sides with his sweaty 13-year-old palms. The next thing I knew, he had slit her open from stem to stern with my kitchen shears.
I am going to call her Shiba.
My new Toshiba laptop.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Now You See Him, Now You See HIM
Here is the Ol' Man Cooler, sitting on the side porch, enjoying his retirement years. If I had it MY way, he would be in a HOME right now. And not MY home. It's a story of If You Give A Husband A Cooler. First, he will be excited and declare that his new Cooler is going in the garage to hold water and soda and beer. Because apparently, the new Frig, the basement mini-fridge, and the BARn mini-fridge can't hold enough water and soda and beer.
When he looks in the garage, the husband sees that it is taken up with our new T-Hoe, a 4-wheeler, and the Scout.
"Ol' Man Cooler will fit in there if I put my collector truck in there to work on," HH declared. This is necessary because the 1986 Mercedes, besides being butt-ugly in a yellow-cream way, is having issues. So HH needs the BARn to work on the Merc, but the collector truck is in there with no wheels and lacking some engine parts.
The husband works on the collector truck for two weeks, which is pretty good considering he has had it for 10 years and it still isn't 'collectible' enough.
He is almost ready to move the truck, once the last wheel is put on. But he has decided that Ol' Man Cooler will serve his needs better in the BARn. "I can have ICE CREAM!" I heard him tell his #1 son.
Which still doesn't explain why Ol' Man Cooler is still cooling his heels on the side porch. PLUGGED IN! He can go to the BARn any time. Any time at all. He's a big mooch, always sucking up electricity.
I blame HH for the bad manners of Ol' Man Cooler.
But here is the glorious new member of our household, Frig. He's fairly quiet. I am enjoying the bejesus out of him.
He's so shiiiiny!
Monday, August 4, 2008
Extra! Extra! Read All About It!
I went to my classroom today to get things ready for school next week. Imagine my surprise when I found NOTHING missing. Instead, I found that I had acquired things over the summer. That's right. I had all my stuff, plus some EXTRA. Can't beat that with a stick!
There was a perfectly good SmartBoard accompanied by a cushy rolling chair lolling about in Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's classroom! You might think this is a stroke of luck, a sign of good fortune, worthy of celebration. If that's what you thunk, you are not a teacher...for we educators know that this could mean trouble, right here in River City. Oops! That's a line from some musical. What I meant to say was that a teacher does not want to be caught with extra stuff. It looks as if you've raided the lair of a colleague.
Thinking it best to dispose of the contraband before everybody shows up for work on Monday, I sent the #1 son with the SmartBoard to the science lab. That's the last area I observed the SmartBoard in May. The rolling puffy chair is still in my room. Tomorrow, I will conduct a tour of classrooms at my end of the building, and see if I can stash it somewhere. If everybody has at least one rolly chair, I will park it in TheParkingSpaceStealer's room. She won't take any guff if somebody accuses HER of pilfering. No harm, no foul. That's what I always say. Unless I am the one being harmlessly fouled. Then I cry like a spoiled schoolgirl.
My computers were up and running. All I had to do was rearrange the furniture back to its previous configuration. The #1 son borrowed a dolly (hand truck, to those of you who are not from these parts) from a custodian, and we carted that cabinet of files back to its habitat alongside the wooden cabinets. So the boy couldn't steer very well and gouged a hunk out of the cabinet. Nobody will know. Because the file cabinet resides next to the wooden cabinet. Harm, but still no foul.
I spent over an hour taking apart my keyboard that apparently has never been cleaned. I dug enough dust bunnies out of that thingy to knit an LSUV cozy for my precious T-HOE. The hardest part was laying the key pieces from the keyboard in order so I could put them back in the right place. Oh, how she sparkles, oh, how she shines. One down and one to go. If it was just a keyboard for the students, I wouldn't bother. But these are MINE, by cracky, and I was tired of the filth. Which I suppose means the original filth came from ME, but only on one of them, since the latest one, (that I cleaned today), was taken from the computer lab last year and put in my room. I rarely let the students on my computers. There is no need. It's hard to share two computers among a classroom of students.
All in all, it was a productive morning. Tomorrow, I'm going to bring back that SmartBoard and fiddle about.
There was a perfectly good SmartBoard accompanied by a cushy rolling chair lolling about in Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's classroom! You might think this is a stroke of luck, a sign of good fortune, worthy of celebration. If that's what you thunk, you are not a teacher...for we educators know that this could mean trouble, right here in River City. Oops! That's a line from some musical. What I meant to say was that a teacher does not want to be caught with extra stuff. It looks as if you've raided the lair of a colleague.
Thinking it best to dispose of the contraband before everybody shows up for work on Monday, I sent the #1 son with the SmartBoard to the science lab. That's the last area I observed the SmartBoard in May. The rolling puffy chair is still in my room. Tomorrow, I will conduct a tour of classrooms at my end of the building, and see if I can stash it somewhere. If everybody has at least one rolly chair, I will park it in TheParkingSpaceStealer's room. She won't take any guff if somebody accuses HER of pilfering. No harm, no foul. That's what I always say. Unless I am the one being harmlessly fouled. Then I cry like a spoiled schoolgirl.
My computers were up and running. All I had to do was rearrange the furniture back to its previous configuration. The #1 son borrowed a dolly (hand truck, to those of you who are not from these parts) from a custodian, and we carted that cabinet of files back to its habitat alongside the wooden cabinets. So the boy couldn't steer very well and gouged a hunk out of the cabinet. Nobody will know. Because the file cabinet resides next to the wooden cabinet. Harm, but still no foul.
I spent over an hour taking apart my keyboard that apparently has never been cleaned. I dug enough dust bunnies out of that thingy to knit an LSUV cozy for my precious T-HOE. The hardest part was laying the key pieces from the keyboard in order so I could put them back in the right place. Oh, how she sparkles, oh, how she shines. One down and one to go. If it was just a keyboard for the students, I wouldn't bother. But these are MINE, by cracky, and I was tired of the filth. Which I suppose means the original filth came from ME, but only on one of them, since the latest one, (that I cleaned today), was taken from the computer lab last year and put in my room. I rarely let the students on my computers. There is no need. It's hard to share two computers among a classroom of students.
All in all, it was a productive morning. Tomorrow, I'm going to bring back that SmartBoard and fiddle about.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
HM Knows How To Work It
I hope you're not disappointed if the post doesn't match the title. Not that I can presume to know what 'IT' you think I'm working.
IT's about my new LSUV, people. About wringing maximum miles per gallon out of every drop of precious gas. The geography that necessitates my gas hog also works against my mileage. I live in the Land of 1000 Hills. Upon leaving my lovely Mansion, I must first go downhill for about a mile of gravel. Forget coasting here...there are sharp curves and blind curves and single-car-width curves.
Once I navigate the goat trail of an opening left by the bridge constructors, it's onto the blacktop county road for a roller coaster ride out to the state road. From there, I descend into the valley and back up to the summit. No matter which way I take to town, it's up and down, a virtual vocal scale warm-up exercise of abysses and peaks. Not that I'm complaining. I am not at all envious of my flat-land friend, Bean, and her new husband. Kansas living ain't the life for me.
My old LSUV puttered along at about 15 miles per gallon in mixed city and highway driving, when it was in good condition. I would not have traded it if it was still in good condition, people! My new Tahoe will get 22 on the highway. Of course, I don't drive on a highway, but on a roller coaster. So it doesn't surprise me that I get...15 miles per gallon. I could probably do better if we fiddled with T-Hoe's brain, according to the brain of HH. But I'm not inclined to do that. It would be like jailbreaking an iPhone.
My only gripe is that unlike my old LSUV, which would roll downhill faster than a runaway boulder after Wile E. Coyote, T-Hoe restrains himself. This is fine when going uphill, and he switches into some mode that maintains a steady pace instead of VROOMING into overdrive like OLSUV. But when I go downhill, I like to coast until I reach terminal velocity. Hey! That's why they put brakes on these horseless carriages.
SO...with T-Hoe coast-blocking me on the downhills, I have to resort to other means to maintain my max MPGs. Here are the reasons to avoid driving behind Mrs. Hillbilly Mom when she goes to town. Or, as I call them,
HM's Gas-Saving Tips
*Drive-thrus are the Devil. Have children so you can send them in to purchase fast food while you remain in the car enjoying XM Radio.
*If you run a stop sign and no policeman is there to witness it, no crime has been committed.
*Coasting two miles on the county road between towns is perfectly fine. If the tailgater behind you wants to go faster than 35 mph, he should have taken the highway.
*Turn your car off at the stoplight. You know it is a 2-minute cycle.
*Cutting through the Smoke Shop parking lot will allow you to miss a stoplight.
*A little sweat never hurt anybody. While waiting to pick up your child, turn off the car.
*Volunteer to drive only the thin people to lunch on your teacher work-days.
Remember, you heard them here first. Oh, and as BObama says, "Make sure your tires are fully inflated."
IT's about my new LSUV, people. About wringing maximum miles per gallon out of every drop of precious gas. The geography that necessitates my gas hog also works against my mileage. I live in the Land of 1000 Hills. Upon leaving my lovely Mansion, I must first go downhill for about a mile of gravel. Forget coasting here...there are sharp curves and blind curves and single-car-width curves.
Once I navigate the goat trail of an opening left by the bridge constructors, it's onto the blacktop county road for a roller coaster ride out to the state road. From there, I descend into the valley and back up to the summit. No matter which way I take to town, it's up and down, a virtual vocal scale warm-up exercise of abysses and peaks. Not that I'm complaining. I am not at all envious of my flat-land friend, Bean, and her new husband. Kansas living ain't the life for me.
My old LSUV puttered along at about 15 miles per gallon in mixed city and highway driving, when it was in good condition. I would not have traded it if it was still in good condition, people! My new Tahoe will get 22 on the highway. Of course, I don't drive on a highway, but on a roller coaster. So it doesn't surprise me that I get...15 miles per gallon. I could probably do better if we fiddled with T-Hoe's brain, according to the brain of HH. But I'm not inclined to do that. It would be like jailbreaking an iPhone.
My only gripe is that unlike my old LSUV, which would roll downhill faster than a runaway boulder after Wile E. Coyote, T-Hoe restrains himself. This is fine when going uphill, and he switches into some mode that maintains a steady pace instead of VROOMING into overdrive like OLSUV. But when I go downhill, I like to coast until I reach terminal velocity. Hey! That's why they put brakes on these horseless carriages.
SO...with T-Hoe coast-blocking me on the downhills, I have to resort to other means to maintain my max MPGs. Here are the reasons to avoid driving behind Mrs. Hillbilly Mom when she goes to town. Or, as I call them,
HM's Gas-Saving Tips
*Drive-thrus are the Devil. Have children so you can send them in to purchase fast food while you remain in the car enjoying XM Radio.
*If you run a stop sign and no policeman is there to witness it, no crime has been committed.
*Coasting two miles on the county road between towns is perfectly fine. If the tailgater behind you wants to go faster than 35 mph, he should have taken the highway.
*Turn your car off at the stoplight. You know it is a 2-minute cycle.
*Cutting through the Smoke Shop parking lot will allow you to miss a stoplight.
*A little sweat never hurt anybody. While waiting to pick up your child, turn off the car.
*Volunteer to drive only the thin people to lunch on your teacher work-days.
Remember, you heard them here first. Oh, and as BObama says, "Make sure your tires are fully inflated."
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Odd Ends
The magnificent iPhone has shipped! The boy was worried this morning, because after 10 business days of checking the queue each hour, he saw that 12 ORDERS PLACED AFTER HIS had shipped on July 31. He was frantic. I told him to shut up, or call the guy at the AT&T store, because I would not discuss it with him until he did. Guess that little rascal enjoys my conversation, because he dialed up Gustave the salesman and read him the riot act. Gustave said that usually doesn't happen, 12 of them shipping out of order (if they are not the white ones). He said he would check on it and call back. An hour and 45 minutes and no call later, the #1 son called the store and requested Gustave. He asked again, and got some line about how they had been having trouble with debit card orders being delayed. Au contraire, my boy objected, it was ordered with a regular credit card. Gustave said he checked, and the order was in the process of shipping, and was probably leaving the warehouse right now and on its way to the store. Uh huh. I told the boy that Gustave was just shining him on to get rid of him on the phone. #1 agreed. He checked the queue over and over all afternoon. Guess what. At 4:12, it said that his precious iPhone had shipped. I'm thinkin' that Gustave got mighty lucky in the coincidence department, and dodged a bullet this morning.
I am in love with Frig. He's my iPhone equivalent. I especially enjoy his ice-making capabilities. No thanks to HH, though. The first day of ice-on-demand, I filled my big water cup twice, and HH and the boys also partook of the frigid chunks of goodness. But the next night, I placed my trough under the spigot, and NOTHING came out. That darn HH had turned off the 'extra ice' button like it was costing him something. I don't want to hear his excuses. He's cruisin' for a bruisin'. Achin' for a breakin'. Yakkin for a whackin'. It does not help his case that Ol' Cooler is still sitting on the side porch. I'm sick of this hillbillyness. HH promises that once he puts the axle back on his 1970 collector truck so he can move the 4-wheeler and Scout out of the garage and park the truck there, he will move Ol' Cooler to his new home in the BARn. I'm not holding my breath. HH has been working on that collector since the year The Pony was born...10 years ago.
Excuse me. I need to calm down. I plan on sipping some icy water and having a discussion with my boy on the merits of 3G.
I am in love with Frig. He's my iPhone equivalent. I especially enjoy his ice-making capabilities. No thanks to HH, though. The first day of ice-on-demand, I filled my big water cup twice, and HH and the boys also partook of the frigid chunks of goodness. But the next night, I placed my trough under the spigot, and NOTHING came out. That darn HH had turned off the 'extra ice' button like it was costing him something. I don't want to hear his excuses. He's cruisin' for a bruisin'. Achin' for a breakin'. Yakkin for a whackin'. It does not help his case that Ol' Cooler is still sitting on the side porch. I'm sick of this hillbillyness. HH promises that once he puts the axle back on his 1970 collector truck so he can move the 4-wheeler and Scout out of the garage and park the truck there, he will move Ol' Cooler to his new home in the BARn. I'm not holding my breath. HH has been working on that collector since the year The Pony was born...10 years ago.
Excuse me. I need to calm down. I plan on sipping some icy water and having a discussion with my boy on the merits of 3G.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Official Notice
I received THE LETTER today. I am officially on notice to return to work on August 11. 8:00 to 3:00, starting with the My-Table-Eats-Last Breakfast, then insurance crapola, then confidentiality (shh...I can't talk about that), then bullying, then violence prevention, then a Newmentia meeting, then lunch, then some technology training (THE HORROR). I'm predicting about an hour of time allowed to work in our classrooms. My suggestion is to leave out the bullying, and we can forget the conflict resolution. Nobody has ever listened to my suggestions before, so I'm not holding my breath.
All this is just for Monday. Oh, and Tuesday night will be Open House from 6:00 to 8:00. Wednesday we only have to go from 8:00 to 12:00. WooHoo! A mini-vacation! The kids start on Thursday, August 14. Now you see why I'll be spending my own time getting ready next week.
Mabel, let's get our story straight for the lunch excursion. You know what I'm talkin' about.
All this is just for Monday. Oh, and Tuesday night will be Open House from 6:00 to 8:00. Wednesday we only have to go from 8:00 to 12:00. WooHoo! A mini-vacation! The kids start on Thursday, August 14. Now you see why I'll be spending my own time getting ready next week.
Mabel, let's get our story straight for the lunch excursion. You know what I'm talkin' about.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
