Air Hockey Rocks!!!!

I haven't played air hockey in many, many years. Ok, maybe add another "many" or two to that.

Nevertheless, tonight I was inflicting serious damage on the youth of our parish, who were unwittingly encountering an old lady that was whipping their butts. To my distress I actually heard one of the teens tease my opponent by pointing out that I am, in fact, an "old lady."

He's lucky I was concentrating on tearing up my latest victim, but I have my suspicions.

Anyway, here is the delightfully full-lipped Baker, pouting after I destroyed him on the floor. He thought he was gonna win, but he went down. Likewise for everybody else, too. And then, Michael had to challenge me. Interesting watching the young male psyche at work.

The way I figure it, it's a win-win situation for me. I'm an old broad, what's special about beating me? The real game is watching the fragile male egos going down.

I started aggressively, and jumped ahead, 3-0, but then I started getting sloppy. A series of errors led to a point for Michael, and then another one. I was sweating, but held on, and then another spurt by him, tying the game at 6-6. In the end, Michael banked an aggressive series of shots that got by me, scoring the final point.

I lost the crown. It's a good thing he's a cutie.

From the sublime to the ridiculous...

In life, things that are noble and magnificent are never far from things that are trivial and laughable.

Perhaps this little observation by a little guy, Napoleon Bonaparte, sums up what happened in the news today. It turns out that this poor schmuck--really, what else to call him when I share his story--has had a bad day thanks to a bad decision.

I understand the need to make money. Especially when we are young and going to school, we do tend to take on unusual jobs because they either pay well, or they fit the difficult schedule of working around classes.

Certainly no one plans to grow up and be the guy that transports dead bodies to the morgue. That would be really weird. Can you imagine what the high school career essay might have looked like? Anyway, I digress. The point that I was making is that there's this guy who has that very job. He takes the dead people to the morgue. It probably pays well.

On second thought, maybe it doesn't pay all that much after all. He was moonlighting as a pizza delivery guy. One hopes he was able to keep his orders straight. Anyway, the trouble began when he had to take his regular car in to the shop. He was called to the pizza place to work, so he took the other vehicle. Yeah, the one with the stretcher in it. As luck would have it, he got pulled over for some minor violation, and the cop saw the stretcher and started asking questions.

When asked about the stretcher, this loser volunteers that he uses it to transport dead bodies. Man. Like that answer isn't going to launch a full-blown investigation?

I'm still not sure what was wrong with the whole thing. I mean, of course, beyond the gross and weird. He was hauling pizza and a stretcher, not pizza and some random dead guy.

Anyway, he loses the job at the morgue. They fire him. Then, he goes and quits at the pizza place. Too bad.

Incidentally, the cop found that the kid had done nothing illegal. Thought I'd share that with you in case anyone is looking for some part time work.

If the intent to pray is a prayer...

please stop a moment and say a little prayer for my friend, Jeff, who will have a cancerous kidney removed late this afternoon.

I love to torment him with public displays of affection.

One Nation, under God

Political correctness sets me off. Generally, I make it a point to antagonize my students and make fun of the choices they make.

So, today, courtesy of a sweet, if misinformed young lady, I will share with you our conversation:

Student: Am I allowed to say "God" in my essay?

Me: [after a moment of silence, trying to figure out if there was any complexity to the question] Um. Yes.

Student: Oh, I thought we weren't allowed to mention God.

Me: Why not? I mean, I imagine God is relevant to the point you intend to make, right?

Student: Oh yes, it's about God.

Me: I see, if it's about God, how can you avoid saying "God?"

Student: I thought there was a special way of saying it without, you know, using the word god.

Pause. At this point, how many of you think she was striving to use that ever present and ridiculous politically correct term, Higher Power? Yeah. Me too.

Me: God is acceptable, and appropriate. Just out of curiosity, what were you going to use?

Student: I thought we had to say Heavenly Authority

Me: [words cannot capture the dazed and amazed look on my face] Um. No. God is good.

Teehee, did ya catch the pun? Frankly, I rather like Heavenly Authority. It's sure to antagonize way more than "God"

For the record, Jeff...

that dead deer on the side of the road? Yeah, that one.

It wasn't me.

What's that smell?

I'm back to the reigning complaint in my life: the laundry. Why oh why does it multiply the way that it does? I know we've all been very busy doing stuff, but it seems to me that somebody at some point has been running a load or two. Of course, when you consider how much dirty clothes 5 people can generate, it's easy enough to see how that's not going to be enough.

Alas, I must make a concerted effort to do a bunch tonight, and every night, until I catch up. Hmmmm, who am I kidding? I'm never going to catch up.

I wonder, if when I die and become famous for all time, if scholars years and years from now will determine that the underlining theme of all my writing is an inability to keep up with a simple task like the laundry.

Some scholar will note that I suffered from angst, driven by societal pressure to be a supermom and a career woman, and a writer, and the expectations drove me to drink.

Nah, I hardly ever drink anymore. Unless we're talking about coffee.

Maybe some other scholar will deduce that laundry symbolizes the drudgery in my life, and my reluctance to engage in an act as mundane as washing clothes is an indication that I treasure adventure and the unknown.

True, but I like the comfort of the tried and true, too. Adventure is fine by me, but so is sitting around staring at the ceiling. Maybe I'm just crazy.

Perhaps, then, some scholar will draw the conclusion that I spent hours and hours writing, and the laundry was a nuisance.

Well, give that scholar a cookie. I certainly think laundry is a nuisance. But that part about writing tomes and tomes of stuff? Nope. I'm caught in a writer's block that stinks just about as much as the gigantic pile of dirty clothes.

Maybe the cure will be to do the laundry. At least things will smell fresher around here.

Post # 100!!!

Whoopee, or surprise, or something.

Feel free to shower me with champagne or chocolate or a brand new car.

OK, now that I've acknowledged that, time to move on to today's actual post...

If you really want to help me celebrate, log in to the frappr map on the bottom right under my archived posts, and show me where you are!

The Eagle has landed

At least, that's what Pop terms his return home from the hospital. See if any of you young whipper-snappers know what the reference is--hint: it's not a movie line, although, I'm sure there's a movie of it.


Meanwhile, the usual Johnson SOP, which is hectic and goofy. I could have titled this entry: Attack of the killer topiary. Yes, Vicky had another prop incident with the same topiary. This time, she was wearing ballet slippers because of her smashed toe (see yesterday's post) and so was shorter. She ended up walking onto the hem of her skirt and walking up the inside of the petticoat until she fell on her---astibule.

You gotta give her credit for composure because she stood right up and continued pushing around the blasted tree.

Who likes topiaries anyway? I think they look stupid, the plant world's answer to the French Poodle.

Irony of Ironies

Achito is the one keeping up with the blog. What's up with that?

Things around here awfully hectic. Just a recap of some exciting things that have sucked up my time these past few days. So, appearing in no particular order, my black hole:

"The Secret Garden" opened on Thursday. Magnificent. Lovely. Just beautififul. Vicky's depth and breadth as The Nurse is a show-stopper. Tonight, she broke her toe on a prop. It's torn and bloody. The toe, of course. No apologies from the topiary forthcoming.

John set fire to the kitchen while cooking 120 hamburgers and 80 hotdogs. CO2 creates mud when sprayed on a grease fire. We were up until 2 am cleaning the stove.

It's been raining constantly. The Drill Meet had to be moved to the gym. We still made money, but not the kind of cash we expected. Of course, we didn't expect to blow up the kitchen, either.

Chris lost. Again. At least the season is over, bittersweet as it may be, and they can move on to planning for next year. I expect a strong showing in '07.

Jonathan is working the tech part of the play, and was introduced tonight in the tech acknowledgement at the end of the show. He was given a moment to say his name and what he does, and all he could think of was, "I move the door. Uh, yeah."

And me? I'm a zombie. Tune in tomorrow.

Luly is a beast!!!!

Oh, no...I mean Luly is a Brave Warrior Princess. Look, she's holding a snake!!!! She's a better man than I, Gunga Din.

Klingons, Cubans and Catheters....such alliteration!

Those of you who know me well, know I'm a trekkie (not that gross affectation of TNG: Trekker). In spite of my refusal to call myself a trekker, I do enjoy TNG characters, and think that Worf is just brilliant. I especially love "Today is a good day to die."

My father is most decidedly NOT a Klingon, and he would never embrace that philosophy. On the contrary, my father, a Cuban and thus of a heartier stock than Klingons, will brave the backbreaking sugar cane fields to make sugar, and that most Cuban of spirits, rum, and gather some mint leaves to make a mojito before complaining that there was too much work in the fields.

In short, my father is the kind of guy that looks Adversity in the eye, and gives him the finger. He doesn't just take lemons and make lemonade, he makes a Tom Collins, gives a round to everyone, and leads the crowd in a Bronx cheer.

That's why it was so startling to hear his puny voice this weekend, obviously drugged and still in some pain from a bad turn from his surgery last week. For starters, he was having some issues urinating (teehee, how sophomoric to say that) so they gave him a catheter. Lovely. I still feel like I had too much information, and yet here I am broadcasting it. Anyway, like a dutiful Mommy, my mother gave me daily reports that he had made pee-pee at the end of the week, and they had removed the offending appendage from his....um, appendage. TMI again, sorry.

All was well, and then he was hospitalized sudddenly from a great pain. It turns out that he had a clot in one of his legs that caused a pulmonary embolism. If those words sound frightening, imagine the phone call I got from my mother. Agitation and fears ruled, and his puny breathless voice was no comfort, but finally, today, we had a lovely conversation, where he recounted at length and with great detail, his adventures in the hospital.

The Old Man is connected to all kinds of wires. One is an IV filled with blood thinners, another is some wiring that he claims is a satellite signal on his condition (OK, sure, whatever) and finally, his little friend returned to aggravate his little "friend." HA! Do you know how I know he is feeling better? He has named the catheter the Pingo'metro. Vaya, how crass is that?

He has gleefully stashed a digital camera in the room because he wants to take a picture of Josie the Bigmouth, a large nurse from the islands who performs miracles bathing him in bed while he is hooked up to all the tubes and such. Clearly, Pop has too much time on his hands if he is fascinated by a sponge bath. He called it magical. I would call it annoying, uncomfortable, embarrassing, unnnecessary. You get the picture.

This morning he put in a request to have Josie give him another bath. He said it was "very refreshing."

I think the hospital staff better release him soon. He is starting to entertain himself with the system, and that's not going to be pretty.

Note the Chesire cat grin. He's up to something already.

Another Manic Monday

Okay, so quoting obscure chick rock from another lifetime. Nevertheless, it has been a rather manic day. Up and down, and all around. Let me first say that there's nothing like working full time to see what you're really made of--aka, I have done more today than all of last week put together.

For starters, let me just share a little bit of religiosity, that is, a guiding moment brought to me by the Blessed Mother. I was stuck in such a horrendous traffic jam, that I got off the interstate and took a backroad that only goes partway to my destination. I had resigned myself to being late for class (believe me, those poor guys would have just sat there until it was time to go--another tale for another day). So, I go this route that only gets me partway to work, and pop in the rosary cd, because, hey, I'm going to be lost in traffic for an hour. The cd skips, so I revert to the tried and true style: I whip out a rosary and use it! I am ambling along, praying and praying, when I miss my turn to get back onto the interstate. Ooops, very bad, as I really really don't know this neighborhood, and frankly, not all that interested in finding my way around....Right when I am going to pack it up and turn around to head into the nightmare on I-20, I see a road with the same name as where I work. Hmmm. Could it be? Yes!!! I found the rest of the way to my destination. Cue the dramatic music.

Incidentally, I was on time. Betcha didn't know the rosary had time altering qualities in addition to everything else.

After starting class and discovering that those ninnies hadn't done their homework (is this college?) and launching into a tirade about preparation, I ended the class and retreated to my temporary quarters. I love my little breakroom/office. Um, Greg, does that make it a broffice? Anyway, there's always coffee brewing, so I am a happy camper. I set up the gradebooks, reported no shows and other paperwork and red tape, graded papers, and then typed my Monday Musing (you can read it at Rosary Army) but I was a chicken to post from the computer at work. I'd rather not have them think I'm blogging from work, thankyouverymuch.

Then, off to visit my cubanita friend, Lourdes, at the county health office. Jonathan has been thrown out of school effective tomorrow if I don't have a certificate saying he had the chicken pox. How stupid is that? No worries, I got the paper.

Then, a visit to the school to deliver said paper, where I ran into my friend, Mr. C, who is a nice Jewish fellow, agitated by an idiotic kid who felt it was approriate to give the old guy the Nazi salute. That kid is a moron. I can't believe anyone would want to teach middle school today. I wish him a restful retirement. If he believed in purgatory I'd say he had served his time.

On to other exciting things---trying to track down Vicky's graduation announcements---paying the garbage bill (somehow, the bill got stacked in with who knows what, and those meanies left my garbage on the curb)....there's nothing more depressing than wheeling garbage back into the house. Yuck.

And it's not even 6 yet. I still have time to work on yard sale junk.

You can't beat practicality

Sometimes I am mortified by the things my children do. Frankly, I'm sure my own mother has horror stories about faux pas and other behaviors from me (and my siblings--my brother greeted our brother-in-law for the first time by blowing a burp into his face--but that's another story).

So tonight, we are enjoing a very casual Easter dinner. Very. Casual. The operative word here is casual.

We had a very pleasant day of nearly nothing, although I did attempt to tackle the sunroom, which was supposed to be a yard sale that never materialized, but that is another story,too. Anyway, a day of nothing. We slept late, had brunch at one, took some naps, and then I made dinner.

With a lovely collection of china and crystal, and several beautiful table cloths, we ate instead on the everyday stuff. Okay, that's fine for a family dinner. Except, that Christy felt that she was getting up too many times to refill the water glass, so--once again I remind you that we have a lovely assortment of crystal and other lovely serving pieces, including pitchers of all kinds--she felt it expeditious to use whatever was available.



A 2 quart measuring cup.

I would be embarrassed, if I was that kinda gal.

He is Risen!!!

A Happy Easter to everyone! It's a lovely morning, and while the Easter Bunny hasn't made a pit stop around here in ages, the Bego Bunny did something way better than bringing me chocolate. He braved the Saturday-before-Easter mob at Walmart and surprised me yesterday afternoon with a full grocery, unloaded and put away by his minions, the Easter Troll and the Easter Princess. Thanks to my bunnies, we'll be munching on an Easter Ham, and not PB&J.

I'm sure the Easter Lieutenant will find this ridiculous, but she contributed to my leisure, by chauffeuring me to church last night. Which, by the way, is the longest mass ever, but it does have my favorite: the litany of the saints. I'm still humming it. Does anybody give kids those names anymore? Not being one to sling aspersions at other people for their names (mine really is Bego), I admit that I know someone named Wenceslao, and he's younger than me.

But I digress, I really wanted to give a shout out to the wave of insanity that has struck my friends and family. I'm talking about the increasing list of people on my reading list. Yes, you know who you are, the bloggers and pseudo-bloggers posting daily, or at least monthly on the 12 on 12 game. This has turned out to be fun.

If you scroll down the right panel, at the bottom is a little box that looks like it could be an ad. It's a frappr map--an opportunity for you to log-in your city, and then on a map we can all see what locations this readership represents.

And then, it will no doubt start a slew of frappr maps popping up in the other blogs.

Who'd a thunk it

Some recent conversations and random comments have led to the revelation that a whole bunch of people I know are blogging. What a voyeuristic people we've become, that instead of clamoring for People and Entertainment Weekly, we are anxiously awaiting a blog update from one of our friends.

Sad and pathetic.

And darn funny, if you ask me. Which you didn't, but it's my blog so I can say whatever I want.

So in light of this new revelation, I thought it'd be cool to make a little logo, you, know, something like the banner for those gossip magazines, only it's not gossip--it's my life.

I hate technology

OK, not true. It's more like I hate not being able to do what I want to do with the technology. But, there's more than one way to skin a cat, and while I may have taken long routes, fixed (not to my satisfaction) my problem with the 12 of 12 posts. I left my frustrated tizzy as a separate one, though.

Oh, and a smarty pants has already noted that there appears to be a beaded rosary in my hand. Who has time to detail pictures? ok, it's true...

But...but...there's a reason for that. How about: I can't keep a twine rosary for longer than 2 or 3 days because I give it away. Or maybe, I keep it in the coin/ash tray, and twine will get dirty.

Or maybe, I'm busted.

Whatever.

I'm off to do the teaching thing.

The 12th one

11:17 pm

I'm pooped. I couldn't get the format right. Use your own imagination.

Finally, the 12

6:03 am

The love affair with Mr. Coffee. What a lousy time to be up.

7:23 am

Stuck in traffic on I-20. I hate the commute, except that I listen to a good rosary cd, and sometimes, it's entertaining to watch other motorists looking at their watches and getting agitated.

10:38 am

My makeshift office. A.K.A. the breakroom.

It does have some amenities. A phone. A computer and printer. A constant in and out from people I don't know. The coffee is always ready, though.

1:48 pm

After an eye-opening department meeting, I got to go home. Lovely. The campus not as beautiful as the other one, but they try, see the pretty flowers?

3:25

After changing, back to what I usually do. Waiting. this time for Jonathan to get out of school. He has refused to be photographed. Here I'm talking to Mom. The waiting in the pick-up line if interminable, and usually hot.

6:30 pm

Selling concessions at the lacrosse game, with Nicole's mom, Virginia. We've made quite a bit of money selling candy and drinks.

7:10

Guess who got their butts handed to them,again. In spite of an excellent game by the Samurai.

8:00 pm

Meanwhile, look who was double promoted to 1st Lieutenant.

8:30 pm

Ran into Iris when I went to pick up Jonathan at church. She's the coolest.

9:00pm

Time for homework. No one smiles for this.

9:45 pm

Look at who was fighting dragons, or something.

12 shots today!

OK< so today, 12 pics of what I do throughout the day. Note that I have a class at 7:45, so you won't see an update until late tonight or early tomorrow. Tough. Get over it.

For your entertainment this morning, though, I'll recount to you last night's adventure.

After a week of classes with substitutes, my students were happy to meet me, and actually have a lesson. It's a 2 hour class, and after about the first hour, in the middle of giving them the criteria for an assignment, the lights went out. No way...another wasted evening for everyone. They insisted I finish giving them instructions in the dark, so they finished taking notes. In the dark.

They illuminated the room with the light from their cell phone displays! It was amazing. I've never seen anythinglike that. Man, I was the one ready to pack it in, and those guys were busy scribbling in the dark and telling the security guy kicking us out to hold on a minute. Classic.

The Return of Samurai

I've been somewhat negligent in my reports on the Samurai's activities, mostly because there were no games scheduled over spring break, but she's also managed to avoid injury.

Not!

Another game, another bloody mess. At least this time she cleaned it up. I wish I had recorded the mumbling coming from the bathroom. It was mostly nonsense syllables. It sounded like a Saturday morning cartoon.

Here, she's explaining earnestly to her father that she was standing, quite innocently, at her position when the mean ole nasty Sprayberry girl assaulted her--first by knocking her down, then by whacking her with the stick.

Yup, it was unprovoked.

for sale: Brooklyn Bridge

off to teach another class

I have nothing to say at this ungodly hour. Maybe inspiration will jump up and bite me today.

So as I embark on my first full day of work at a new job, I will leave for myself this little reminder from Mother Theresa:

Be kind in your actions. Do not think that you are the only one who can do efficient work, work worth showing. This makes you harsh in the judgment of others who may not have the same talents. Do your best and trust that others do their best. And be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies.

Haven't cracked the code to bi-location yet

But I'm working on it. Sorry to say, posting hasn't been a priority, particulary if I'm nowhere near the computer. Alas, that's just the way it's been.

I started teaching yesterday--a four hour class on Saturday morning. It went very well, in spite of the Dean pretending the students were going to be goof-offs. Well, there were two who slept for an hour, but hey, what do I care? They actually get a grade for work ethic. If they do it two more times, I get to drop them from the course. Hmmmm.

I've picked up a couple of more classes, which are inconvenient, but one sacrifices to get the foot in the door. I have another one at 7:45 tomorrow morning. Then, who knows. Since classes started last week, I'm picking up 2 new ones that have been in session for a week. I have a lot of planning and sorting to do, and as far as I can tell, I'll be doing it from the coffee break room until they can empty out an office for me. Patience is a virtue, and sometimes has tremendous benefits. It seems I will be getting an office that was intended for a dept. chair that moved. So, it's freshly painted and has new carpeting. Unfortunately, it's also filled, floor to ceiling, with textbooks and equipment. We'll see when that gets resolved.

I've got to figure out a working schedule that gets 40 hours in, including what they call 25 contact hours with students, and manage to do it around the Tuesday/Thursday schedule I have at the university (which ends on May 3). Back to that bi-location trick. Too bad the hours I put in organizing myself don't count towards the "work week." Ah, the woes of a teacher, LOL. Too bad we can't clock in and get overtime! Whatever, at least I'll be double-dipping this month, that's a bonus. Literally!!!

I shall endeavor to continue posting in the mornings, but bear with me while I get into the new rhythm. At the very least I'll have new fodder for my musings.

Back in the Saddle, Again

So the Old Man is out of the hosptial, and ready to start terrorizing the folks with the tumba. Reports are that all is well, and naturally, improving all the time. But ladies and gentlemen, can he play the violin?

Rumor has it that the gallstones are on auction at eBay. Can they fetch more than William Shatner's gallstones? We'll see.

Over-acting, Type-cast, Bloated Old Guy vs. Sean Connery's Double. No contest.

Updating and eating some pie (of the crow variety)

I got the job, and start tomorrow. The ole checkbook doing cartwheels.

Meanwhile, met Miss Maisie, who is nothing more than a lovely mail clerk helping out in an emergency. Alas, public apologies from me here, at least.

On the exciting schedule tomorrow, an HR orientation in the morning, and then the Dean gave me the rest of the day off, PAID.

I like this guy, even if he does come to class unprepared.

To Post, or Not to Post?

I've actually struggled with sharing this story, lest I come across as some intolerant awful person, and I had a revelation. I am an intolerant awful person. I detest stupidity in all things. It bugs me to no end when I do something stupid. If you've ever seen the comedian, Carlos Mencia, beat himself on the head, that's what I do when I am guilty of stupidity. In others, stupidity drives me mad to the point of distraction.

Today, I'm so distracted by someone else's stupidity, that I will drive you to distraction with it, too. Call it some cosmic need to vent, if you want. Here goes:

After that wacky interview last week, requiring that I suddenly abandon the interview to model my teaching style, I pretty much went home and hung up the possibility. Frankly, I stated in the interview that I wasn't willing to give up the two courses I'm currently teaching, so if they

Estrogen Night!

So, after spending the day with themselves, the ladies returned to the campground with $57 worth of appetizers, plus an assortment of candy and popcorn, and I think I saw a tub of gummy worms.

It better not be a vomitorium, because there was enough food to feed the Third World. I even asked for a love offering, and couldn't finish the plate. The living room smells like hotwings.

Of course, there was also a $25 trip to Blockbuster for a collection of scary movies and chick flicks. How confusing.

I, of course, made out like a bandit, because I didn't have to cook, and they rented a movie for me, too. I'm afraid I'm going to be sorry about the hotwings later, though.

Estrogen Day!

A day just for women. Of the youngish sort. That means not me. I'm not youngish anymore. I don't think I'm oldish, though. That makes me mediumish. I don't like the sound of that. Mediumish. Nope, has no ring to it.

Jonathan is fleeing the premises with the promise of moving office furniture for John, so I get the house to myself for the afternoon. I'll finish the last chapter of the textbook, and with hope, will have it up and running by next week. Phew, that's been a drag on my time, but I do have a sense of accomplishment. The next one is already percolating in my brain.

So, for now, that's all folks.

just got back from work

So today I did something awful in the workroom. In spite of the fact that I was totally slumming it today, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt (OK, it has pretty little flowers on it), I sat at my desk and watched some of my colleagues while they were grading papers. Shame on me for tearing them apart here.

That was the extent of my remorse. What follows is the report on my observations:

In the corner by the window is the attractive guy in the department. Super nice, a writer, married--and perpetually hiding from the crazed, heterosexual feminists in the department. Who could ever imagine that a militant lesbian could be a lesser threat?

In front of me is a really funny history professor. We've had some good conversations over the years. Clever. Intelligent. A good conversationalist. He keeps getting up and going to his classroom next door. How did he get so lucky to teach next to our office? I like him, but after 5 years, I've never bothered to find out his name. Maybe I'll get around to introducing myself--in another 5 years. I wonder if he knows my name?

Then there's the real estate agent. She's always working on a deal in the office. She teaches English, but I've never seen her students. I'll give her points for being slick, though. She passed out her business card to the adjuncts on the pretext that we might need to call her sometime if we need a sub. Did I say slick?

I've left the best for last because I still can't believe it. The woman sitting next to me has some audio program on her laptop that makes it sound like an old manual typewriter going a mile a minute. The volume is on high, too, but even if wasn't it would annoy the hell out of me. Why in the world would anyone put that sound effect on the computer? Does she think it makes her sound like a writer? Admittedly, writers have some odd quirks, but I draw the line at that little pretend game.

It must be to drive people away, and it worked! The old guy that had his feet propped up on a desk, taking a nap, woke up and gave her a dirty look before getting his stuff and leaving.

I stayed. It was way too much fun watching the others give her the evil eye. If it wasn't for my high entertainment value, I might have been the one to ask her to mute the computer, as I've been risking my life lately by calling people on their rudeness.

Meanwhile, my friend the nameless conversationalist shared an essay exam with me. He is perplexed that the student has signed the essay at the end, a la Hancock. What could it mean?

Who knows? It's just another day at the office. Makes me look forward to class.

gullywashers, pollen, and other idiosyncracies

What's a gullywasher? A big rainstorm. We had one of those yesterday. Just came up, dumped about a million gallons on us, kindly washed off some of the pollen on the cars, and then disappeared. It was a welcome rain, since we have entered into the dreaded pollen season here. My eyes are killing me, and this is only the first sign of it. Wait until I post a really good pollen day for you guys to see what it's like to go out to the cars and leave footprints in the walk, and not be able to see the real color of your car.

Of course, the flowers in the neighborhood are gorgeous. Just check out the house across the street from us. It's still for sale, by the way. It's a buyer's market here, so everything moving slowly, but you can't beat the guy's gardening across the street. The house is empty--they've been in their new house for 3 months. No pressure. You know who I'm talking to. Nothing like moving into a house that's ready to go, no need to even paint. LOL.

Sill-o-meter

It's Spring Break and that means the kids are off, and off to pushing the silliness meter into the red danger zone. The objective: actively avoid everything that is expected, and replace it with craziness.

I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities for more antics later in the week. Although there are rehearsals and practices scheduled throughout the week, you can look forward to Wednesday's report on Estrogen Day, a day spent with 5 women.

Where's Jonathan in all this? He went to bed, knowing he was going to make some money today.

Winter or Spring?

For anyone who has ever stayed in the Johnson household, the revelation that the temperature tends to be abnormally cold is an understatement. For starters, John really likes his air conditioning. That the unit is new, and capable of powering more square footage than it is currently serving also adds to the artic blast around here. Ask Critter, she christened the bathrooms "meat lockers."

The problem is further amplified by the transition weather around here in early spring. Last Saturday we couldn't keep up with the demand for hot chocolate at Christy's Lacrosse game. Then on Monday, heat stroke if you stood out in the sun for more than 10 minutes. Part of it is that the temperature swing is so huge, it feels hotter or colder than it really is, and part of it is that we really never know how to dress.

Yesterday it was so warm, Jonathan gave the dog a bath, and then washed all three cars (and then walked around extorting money for it---hmmm, he was just playing in the water). Naturally, John had the A/C running in the house. Everything was fine and dandy until sometime in the middle of the night the temperature dropped again.

Thus we had Deb and Flo in their winterwear for lounging around an over air-conditioned house on a Sunday morning. They got up earlier than the clock says (DID YOU REMEMBER TO SPRING FORWARD TODAY?) because it was cold.

I say they are lightweights. After all, they've taken the Deb and Flo Show on the road to meet the Ninja Turtles, who knows what they'll be wearing this afternoon, overcoats or bikinis.

7-21-2-29-13-6 !!!

WOW!!! After how many years of playing a random lotto card, my numbers WON!!! Our ship has come in!
check my secret blog, link on the right, for details on how this affects you, and your piece of the pie!!!!