Stanley Cup jitters
My office mate, Jean-Luc, has been wearing a Sabres jersey since right after the Super Bowl. During the NFL playoffs, he wore a Steelers jersey and guess who won the Super Bowl? We are hoping his good luck holds up for the Stanley Cup, but we are a little nervous now that Philly has evened the series.
But all looks good so far for today's game, as the Sabres are ahead 3-0 with 8 minutes left. Go Sabres!
On the academic front, I stayed home Friday hoping to get lots of reading and writing done without having to drive the 60-mile trip to work. Hubby stayed home too, which meant I got nothing done. I need quiet, and barring that, a sound-proof door for the office/bedroom to drown out the television and radio.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Responses to students who miss class
Just a few responses from posters at the Chronicle of Higher Education's forum:
Student: I missed class today. Did we do anything important?
Professor: [choose one]
Just a few responses from posters at the Chronicle of Higher Education's forum:
Student: I missed class today. Did we do anything important?
Professor: [choose one]
- No, I just wasted everyone's time for 75 minutes.
- No, we only do important things when you are there.
- Only most of what will be on the first midterm.
- Yes, I handed out five dollar bills and Snickers bars.
- We'll know after I grade your exam, won't we?
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Something I found while cleaning the bedroom/office:
Eldest Daughter!
Don't chew with your mouth open, I don't like see-food
Don't run barefoot, I don't like to remove splinters
Don't push your brother into the mud, I just gave him a bath
Don't leave your toys laying around, there is no such thing as a cleaning fairy
Don't sit too close to the TV, you'll ruin your eyes
Don't leave your plate on the dining room table, put it on the kitchen table
Don't plant raisins in the green rug, they're starting to sprout green mold
Don't pull the cat's tail, she'll scratch your arms to shreds
Don't talk too loud, I'm starting to go deaf in my left ear
Don't wear purple with red, it hurts my eyes
Don't stop playing that piano, one note doesn't count as a song
Don't just stand there, swing that bat
Don't bring that bird into the house, that's the cat's job
And most of all, don't ever, EVER, eat too much sugar. You'll get pink-eye.
Don't run barefoot, I don't like to remove splinters
Don't push your brother into the mud, I just gave him a bath
Don't leave your toys laying around, there is no such thing as a cleaning fairy
Don't sit too close to the TV, you'll ruin your eyes
Don't leave your plate on the dining room table, put it on the kitchen table
Don't plant raisins in the green rug, they're starting to sprout green mold
Don't pull the cat's tail, she'll scratch your arms to shreds
Don't talk too loud, I'm starting to go deaf in my left ear
Don't wear purple with red, it hurts my eyes
Don't stop playing that piano, one note doesn't count as a song
Don't just stand there, swing that bat
Don't bring that bird into the house, that's the cat's job
And most of all, don't ever, EVER, eat too much sugar. You'll get pink-eye.
Monday, April 17, 2006
Ten ways to tell we are a nerd family:
1. We spent a good portion of the hour-plus ride to the homestead yesterday discussing Marie Curie, her work with uranium, and how she and her husband died.
2. We speak in movie quotes, usually from Star Trek or Star Wars.
3. We have been known to do calculus at the table at Montana's restaurant, where the tablecloth is a huge piece of paper and they supply everyone with crayons. One server, noting the scribbled equations, said "Gee, usually people play tic-tac-toe."
4. Our dinner discussion topics are usually things like Napoleonic war tactics, the Berlin wall, characteristics of mantis shrimp, etc.
5. We never use a two-syllable word when a four-syllable word (or larger) would suffice. Especially when playing hangman.
6. We IM each other while sitting on the same sofa.
7. We know puce is a color.
1. We spent a good portion of the hour-plus ride to the homestead yesterday discussing Marie Curie, her work with uranium, and how she and her husband died.
2. We speak in movie quotes, usually from Star Trek or Star Wars.
3. We have been known to do calculus at the table at Montana's restaurant, where the tablecloth is a huge piece of paper and they supply everyone with crayons. One server, noting the scribbled equations, said "Gee, usually people play tic-tac-toe."
4. Our dinner discussion topics are usually things like Napoleonic war tactics, the Berlin wall, characteristics of mantis shrimp, etc.
5. We never use a two-syllable word when a four-syllable word (or larger) would suffice. Especially when playing hangman.
6. We IM each other while sitting on the same sofa.
7. We know puce is a color.
8. We have more computers than televisions. Actually, most of our possessions are either computers or books.
9. We have attempted to learn Klingon. Long road trips are great for this activity, but--with Klingon--it would help to have windshield wipers INSIDE the car. We also know the color of Klingon blood.
10. A "C" in gym is cause for great celebration--because we actually passed!
9. We have attempted to learn Klingon. Long road trips are great for this activity, but--with Klingon--it would help to have windshield wipers INSIDE the car. We also know the color of Klingon blood.
10. A "C" in gym is cause for great celebration--because we actually passed!
Friday, April 14, 2006
Taxes suck, and other musings.
I just finished filing my taxes and while the pain was lessened somewhat by an unexpected refund from the state I was born in, and lived in for 6 weeks of 2005, we still had to pay out a hefty chunk of change. Ouuuuuuuuuuuuuch.
But that particular pain is over for this year, or will be on Monday when I mail the checks out. I'm grateful that we managed to scrape together enough money to pay the bill without resorting to a payment plan. Thank God!
Taxes do indeed suck, but I am consoling myself with Oreos.
On to other things.
I had a conversation with my colleague Sam about students the other day. Specifically, about admitting students into schools or programs when they clearly don't have the skills or capacity to succeed. What is our obligation to these students? Administration is focused on recruitment and retention--as a private school, we are heavily dependent on tuition--but behind the numbers are very real people, some of whom should not be in college (or at least this one).
At my alma mater I was stunned to find that several of my students were in their 6th or 7th year at the university and were not yet admitted to the major. Engineering students generally declare and are admitted to their discipline by the junior year, although they can take some 300-level discipline-specific courses if they have the pre-requisites. These students were taking ISE courses, some for the second time, and were in no way close to graduation. AFTER SIX YEARS! One girl was in her 9th year, and at least 3 semesters from completing her requirements. I cannot imagine how much debt these kids carried, nor can I understand why the advisor (same one in all cases) did not have a heart-to-heart talk with these young people. It was plain to me that they did not have the skills or intellect to be successful in engineering; why were they allowed, year after year, to register for and re-take the same courses? Why weren't they channeled into a field of study more suited to their talents and interests?
I teach at a private 4 year technical school that is "moderately difficult" to get into, according to Peterson's. Yearly costs are about $28K, not counting books. The financial stakes are much higher than at the state university I attended, so it's doubly important to make sure incoming students have the ability to do the work. Last week I read a letter from a prospective student who would be much better off taking courses at the local community college for a few semesters to gain some much-needed writing and math skills before coming here. Sadly, I think he'll be admitted--and I think that's a mistake.
Which brings me back to the dilemma of recruitment/retention and the hapless students who should not be in this major or should not be here at all. And I don't think that's a dilemma that's going to be solved soon.
But I have Oreos, so life is good.
Happy Easter, everyone! Christ is risen!
I just finished filing my taxes and while the pain was lessened somewhat by an unexpected refund from the state I was born in, and lived in for 6 weeks of 2005, we still had to pay out a hefty chunk of change. Ouuuuuuuuuuuuuch.
But that particular pain is over for this year, or will be on Monday when I mail the checks out. I'm grateful that we managed to scrape together enough money to pay the bill without resorting to a payment plan. Thank God!
Taxes do indeed suck, but I am consoling myself with Oreos.
On to other things.
I had a conversation with my colleague Sam about students the other day. Specifically, about admitting students into schools or programs when they clearly don't have the skills or capacity to succeed. What is our obligation to these students? Administration is focused on recruitment and retention--as a private school, we are heavily dependent on tuition--but behind the numbers are very real people, some of whom should not be in college (or at least this one).
At my alma mater I was stunned to find that several of my students were in their 6th or 7th year at the university and were not yet admitted to the major. Engineering students generally declare and are admitted to their discipline by the junior year, although they can take some 300-level discipline-specific courses if they have the pre-requisites. These students were taking ISE courses, some for the second time, and were in no way close to graduation. AFTER SIX YEARS! One girl was in her 9th year, and at least 3 semesters from completing her requirements. I cannot imagine how much debt these kids carried, nor can I understand why the advisor (same one in all cases) did not have a heart-to-heart talk with these young people. It was plain to me that they did not have the skills or intellect to be successful in engineering; why were they allowed, year after year, to register for and re-take the same courses? Why weren't they channeled into a field of study more suited to their talents and interests?
I teach at a private 4 year technical school that is "moderately difficult" to get into, according to Peterson's. Yearly costs are about $28K, not counting books. The financial stakes are much higher than at the state university I attended, so it's doubly important to make sure incoming students have the ability to do the work. Last week I read a letter from a prospective student who would be much better off taking courses at the local community college for a few semesters to gain some much-needed writing and math skills before coming here. Sadly, I think he'll be admitted--and I think that's a mistake.
Which brings me back to the dilemma of recruitment/retention and the hapless students who should not be in this major or should not be here at all. And I don't think that's a dilemma that's going to be solved soon.
But I have Oreos, so life is good.
Happy Easter, everyone! Christ is risen!
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
To "Dr." or not to "Dr."
Anyone who has spent many years and much energy pursuing a Ph.D. runs into this question sooner or later -- usually sooner.
"When do I use my title?"
Some people never use it. Some people always use it. The majority of us are, I think, somewhere in the middle, using it in some settings and not in others. And that includes me.
I use "Dr." in academic settings but not social ones. I did use it to keep a certain high school administrator from treating me like some ignorant parental unit, to great effect. I don't use it for restaurant reservations or anything like that. I told my kids that just once I wanted them to call me "Dr. Mom" and I am still waiting. They are being obstinate as usual and are not bowing to my wishes. Maybe if I bribe them.....
But anyway, it can be a sticky question and one always runs the risk of either appearing snooty by insisting on the title or of essentially devaluing one's effort (and making those who use "Dr." appear snooty) by insisting on avoiding the title. Both sides can carry their insistence a bit too far. I remember one new professor, who insisted on using his first name, turning around to bark "Who?" at a student who called him "Dr. X" -- as if the poor unsuspecting kid, who really was trying to show deference and respect to his elder, had called him something unprintable.
In my school, many professors do not have a Ph.D. and the students sometimes are a little confused about what to call their instructors. I've found it helps to be really clear right at the beginning of the semester: "I am Dr. Mom and here is my contact information". Sometimes they still don't get it though, and will come to my office asking for "Mrs. Mom". I don't understand that one -- and I don't teach freshmen, so it can't be a holdover habit from high school. Sometimes it's "Professor Mom" which is fine but my last name has a lot of syllables so that can be a mouthful.
Then there are the kids who went to high school with my son, or who are friends of Oldest Daughter and also attend this school. They are probably really confused and generally don't call me anything. That's okay, as long as I still get hugs and requests for chocolate chip cookies.
Oh, one funny thing - a student from my alma mater called and asked for Dr. Mom; my husband handed me the phone, and the student referred to me as Dr. all through his pitch to join the university's athletic booster club. Now, I love football and ordinarily would give something to help the team--but we owe the TaxMan some big bucks and are pinching pennies until Abe's cheeks turn red to pay that bill. So I declined to contribute at the $250 level or any other for at least three months. All of a sudden my title was dropped and it was "Mrs. Mom"! "DOCTOR," I said firmly. The student apologized and my husband remarked loudly, "You aren't getting a cent now, kid!"
He's right.
Anyone who has spent many years and much energy pursuing a Ph.D. runs into this question sooner or later -- usually sooner.
"When do I use my title?"
Some people never use it. Some people always use it. The majority of us are, I think, somewhere in the middle, using it in some settings and not in others. And that includes me.
I use "Dr." in academic settings but not social ones. I did use it to keep a certain high school administrator from treating me like some ignorant parental unit, to great effect. I don't use it for restaurant reservations or anything like that. I told my kids that just once I wanted them to call me "Dr. Mom" and I am still waiting. They are being obstinate as usual and are not bowing to my wishes. Maybe if I bribe them.....
But anyway, it can be a sticky question and one always runs the risk of either appearing snooty by insisting on the title or of essentially devaluing one's effort (and making those who use "Dr." appear snooty) by insisting on avoiding the title. Both sides can carry their insistence a bit too far. I remember one new professor, who insisted on using his first name, turning around to bark "Who?" at a student who called him "Dr. X" -- as if the poor unsuspecting kid, who really was trying to show deference and respect to his elder, had called him something unprintable.
In my school, many professors do not have a Ph.D. and the students sometimes are a little confused about what to call their instructors. I've found it helps to be really clear right at the beginning of the semester: "I am Dr. Mom and here is my contact information". Sometimes they still don't get it though, and will come to my office asking for "Mrs. Mom". I don't understand that one -- and I don't teach freshmen, so it can't be a holdover habit from high school. Sometimes it's "Professor Mom" which is fine but my last name has a lot of syllables so that can be a mouthful.
Then there are the kids who went to high school with my son, or who are friends of Oldest Daughter and also attend this school. They are probably really confused and generally don't call me anything. That's okay, as long as I still get hugs and requests for chocolate chip cookies.
Oh, one funny thing - a student from my alma mater called and asked for Dr. Mom; my husband handed me the phone, and the student referred to me as Dr. all through his pitch to join the university's athletic booster club. Now, I love football and ordinarily would give something to help the team--but we owe the TaxMan some big bucks and are pinching pennies until Abe's cheeks turn red to pay that bill. So I declined to contribute at the $250 level or any other for at least three months. All of a sudden my title was dropped and it was "Mrs. Mom"! "DOCTOR," I said firmly. The student apologized and my husband remarked loudly, "You aren't getting a cent now, kid!"
He's right.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Happy birthday to my brother!
I had a nice morning listening to a favorite singer and speaker at church. Afterwards we stopped at a local bakery where I proceeded to buy nothing because as usual I had no money in my wallet. Not every place takes debit cards, unfortunately! Having no money in my wallet is a chronic situation. I swear, the stuff just disappears into thin air--or into my kids' mouths.
Speaking of mouths, youngest daughter 's braces came off on Friday. Instead of a retainer, she has this really expensive, really delicate positioner that she is supposed to wear at night and for four hours each day. One problem--it never occurred to the dentist that she still has teeth coming in. That means the positioner was made BEFORE her last molars started erupting, and the darned thing doesn't fit! So do they discover this in the office before she is sent home with said positioner and various dire warnings about its care? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO of COURSE NOT. That means we have to go on Tuesday to see if we can get it adjusted. Grrrr. Just for that, I think she should follow in her mom's footsteps and bite her orthodontist.
Non-sequitor alert: Ever since the report that chocolate has anti-oxidants in it I've been making sure I get a good dose of those helpful things. My doctor should be happy, right?
:-)
I had a nice morning listening to a favorite singer and speaker at church. Afterwards we stopped at a local bakery where I proceeded to buy nothing because as usual I had no money in my wallet. Not every place takes debit cards, unfortunately! Having no money in my wallet is a chronic situation. I swear, the stuff just disappears into thin air--or into my kids' mouths.
Speaking of mouths, youngest daughter 's braces came off on Friday. Instead of a retainer, she has this really expensive, really delicate positioner that she is supposed to wear at night and for four hours each day. One problem--it never occurred to the dentist that she still has teeth coming in. That means the positioner was made BEFORE her last molars started erupting, and the darned thing doesn't fit! So do they discover this in the office before she is sent home with said positioner and various dire warnings about its care? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO of COURSE NOT. That means we have to go on Tuesday to see if we can get it adjusted. Grrrr. Just for that, I think she should follow in her mom's footsteps and bite her orthodontist.
Non-sequitor alert: Ever since the report that chocolate has anti-oxidants in it I've been making sure I get a good dose of those helpful things. My doctor should be happy, right?
:-)
Friday, April 07, 2006
Friday potpourri
Ever notice that people who write music for movies often recycle their stuff? I was watching "Deep Impact" today and noticed that the ominous music played when Dr. Wolf realizes the asteroid is headed for earth is almost exactly the same as the ominous music played in Titanic when the ship hits the iceberg (same guy did the score - James Horner).
I always pick out movie music used in documentaries too. The other day we were watching some historical thing on the Hitler...I mean the History Channel, and the music was from "Raiders of the Lost Ark." The Olympics used the theme from "Rudy."
But the weirdest thing was when I heard an Andrew Lloyd Webber piece (don't remember which one) and recognized at least three bars of a "Camelot" song (written by Rodgers and Hammerstein, for those of you too young to remember).
This skill is interesting but does not make me any money. Too bad. I have all sorts of neat little quirky skills that are useless for anything but idle conversation. For instance, I can glance at page and tell you whether or not there's a word misspelled on the page--before I know which word it is. I remember things I've read by picturing the page, where the word or phrase or sentence was on the page, which side of the page it was on, and what the font looked like. I have what I call a "trivia brain" and remember all sorts of useless information. While watching movies I annoy my children by telling them what other films minor actors appeared in.
And, most important, I am the Queen of Thumb War.
Oh -- another thing about "Deep Impact" - the scene with Dr. Wolf always makes me hungry for pizza.
Ever notice that people who write music for movies often recycle their stuff? I was watching "Deep Impact" today and noticed that the ominous music played when Dr. Wolf realizes the asteroid is headed for earth is almost exactly the same as the ominous music played in Titanic when the ship hits the iceberg (same guy did the score - James Horner).
I always pick out movie music used in documentaries too. The other day we were watching some historical thing on the Hitler...I mean the History Channel, and the music was from "Raiders of the Lost Ark." The Olympics used the theme from "Rudy."
But the weirdest thing was when I heard an Andrew Lloyd Webber piece (don't remember which one) and recognized at least three bars of a "Camelot" song (written by Rodgers and Hammerstein, for those of you too young to remember).
This skill is interesting but does not make me any money. Too bad. I have all sorts of neat little quirky skills that are useless for anything but idle conversation. For instance, I can glance at page and tell you whether or not there's a word misspelled on the page--before I know which word it is. I remember things I've read by picturing the page, where the word or phrase or sentence was on the page, which side of the page it was on, and what the font looked like. I have what I call a "trivia brain" and remember all sorts of useless information. While watching movies I annoy my children by telling them what other films minor actors appeared in.
And, most important, I am the Queen of Thumb War.
Oh -- another thing about "Deep Impact" - the scene with Dr. Wolf always makes me hungry for pizza.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Musings for today
I still haven't gotten the galleys for the article accepted last November. By the time they publish this thing, I'll be up for tenure!
My newest submission is "with the editor" which means they didn't reject it out of hand. Yay!
Now to finish the two articles out of my diss research that my long-suffering adviser is waiting for.....
I still haven't gotten the galleys for the article accepted last November. By the time they publish this thing, I'll be up for tenure!
My newest submission is "with the editor" which means they didn't reject it out of hand. Yay!
Now to finish the two articles out of my diss research that my long-suffering adviser is waiting for.....
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Wow, today was exciting!
Bad exciting:
1. Horrible Driver #1 stopped dead in the middle of the street, for no apparent reason, three times between my house and the entrance to the freeway.
2. Horrible Driver #2 went into the oncoming lane while exiting the freeway, and cut right in front of me to go through the toll booth I was headed for.
3. I wiped out my Outlook email setup.
4. After I fixed #3, I got an email from a student who was confused about assignment due dates. The assignment is clearly marked as due April 3rd, but four students have not yet handed it in. Turns out that the dropbox, which I set to close on April 6th (the last day I will accept submissions for that assignment) says "DUE DATE = April 6". Silly me, I thought it would say "Drop box closes after April 6th" or some such thing. Most professors I know accept late assignments, so why would we set a drop box to close right on the actual due date? I started adding date restrictions because when the drop box remained open students would try to submit assignments over a week late. Now I will have to remember to close the drop box on the drop dead date, otherwise there will be more confusion over MY due date and the drop box due date. Argh.
Scary exciting:
I submitted a single-author lit survey to a top journal. Single author stuff is not usual in my field. Yikes! It will probably get rejected, but at least I sent something in.
Good exciting:
1. See entry under "Scary exciting"
2. I figured out how to remove the "complex script" stuff and annoying corner marks from Word. Of course, in the process, I generated "Bad exciting" entry #3. But I fixed that, so all is good.
Had a very nice late lunch with Son. The campus cafeteria did a credible job on my white pizza. While not as marvelous as my favorite pizzeria offering, it was still tasty.
Work day is over, so now I will head off to the homestead where I intend to recover from Scary Exciting entry by practicing my bagpipe chanter. It's been a while since I've played it, which means I will be breathless in no time. But it's fun!
Speaking of the bagpipe chanter, I thought I might look to see how much an electronic one would cost. Because they have earpieces, I could actually practice in my office and no one would notice (I doubt my colleagues would appreciate endless repetitions of throws on D, no matter how supportive they are of my endeavors). Well, electronic chanters run about $275-$300 which sounds expensive to me. On the other hand, I was looking at backyard ice rink kits the other day, and those run about the same amount of money--and I was thinking how cheap that was! It's funny how cost is so relative. I hate spending $60 to buy a new pair of sneakers, but think nothing of spending $60 on dinner out or a book or even a computer gadget.
Oh - and one more thing that I was thinking about today. I live in a neighborhood that has been declining over the past 10-15 years. One symptom of that decline is people walking in the street instead of the sidewalks (What is up with that?? There's no snow on the sidewalks--use the sidewalks!!). I have noticed a new symptom in the past few days: parking one's big, blue, 95-gallon garbage tote right by the front door. Talk about curb appeal!
We had a lady on our street who in nice weather could be found outside, dressed in white from head to toe, washing down her driveway and sidewalk. She installed an L-shaped rail "fence-let" in a corner of her front yard, with a large boulder surrounded by white stones nestled in the grass inside the L. Her flag was always flying. Every time we drove past her house we would yell "The driveway's wet!" And it usually was.
I don't think the driveway will be so wet anymore. Two rails have fallen off the fence-let. The flagpole is empty. And, as a sure sign we won't be seeing the Lady in White washing her driveway anymore---there's a big, blue, 95-gallon garbage tote parked right by the front steps.
Sigh.
Time to move.
Bad exciting:
1. Horrible Driver #1 stopped dead in the middle of the street, for no apparent reason, three times between my house and the entrance to the freeway.
2. Horrible Driver #2 went into the oncoming lane while exiting the freeway, and cut right in front of me to go through the toll booth I was headed for.
3. I wiped out my Outlook email setup.
4. After I fixed #3, I got an email from a student who was confused about assignment due dates. The assignment is clearly marked as due April 3rd, but four students have not yet handed it in. Turns out that the dropbox, which I set to close on April 6th (the last day I will accept submissions for that assignment) says "DUE DATE = April 6". Silly me, I thought it would say "Drop box closes after April 6th" or some such thing. Most professors I know accept late assignments, so why would we set a drop box to close right on the actual due date? I started adding date restrictions because when the drop box remained open students would try to submit assignments over a week late. Now I will have to remember to close the drop box on the drop dead date, otherwise there will be more confusion over MY due date and the drop box due date. Argh.
Scary exciting:
I submitted a single-author lit survey to a top journal. Single author stuff is not usual in my field. Yikes! It will probably get rejected, but at least I sent something in.
Good exciting:
1. See entry under "Scary exciting"
2. I figured out how to remove the "complex script" stuff and annoying corner marks from Word. Of course, in the process, I generated "Bad exciting" entry #3. But I fixed that, so all is good.
Had a very nice late lunch with Son. The campus cafeteria did a credible job on my white pizza. While not as marvelous as my favorite pizzeria offering, it was still tasty.
Work day is over, so now I will head off to the homestead where I intend to recover from Scary Exciting entry by practicing my bagpipe chanter. It's been a while since I've played it, which means I will be breathless in no time. But it's fun!
Speaking of the bagpipe chanter, I thought I might look to see how much an electronic one would cost. Because they have earpieces, I could actually practice in my office and no one would notice (I doubt my colleagues would appreciate endless repetitions of throws on D, no matter how supportive they are of my endeavors). Well, electronic chanters run about $275-$300 which sounds expensive to me. On the other hand, I was looking at backyard ice rink kits the other day, and those run about the same amount of money--and I was thinking how cheap that was! It's funny how cost is so relative. I hate spending $60 to buy a new pair of sneakers, but think nothing of spending $60 on dinner out or a book or even a computer gadget.
Oh - and one more thing that I was thinking about today. I live in a neighborhood that has been declining over the past 10-15 years. One symptom of that decline is people walking in the street instead of the sidewalks (What is up with that?? There's no snow on the sidewalks--use the sidewalks!!). I have noticed a new symptom in the past few days: parking one's big, blue, 95-gallon garbage tote right by the front door. Talk about curb appeal!
We had a lady on our street who in nice weather could be found outside, dressed in white from head to toe, washing down her driveway and sidewalk. She installed an L-shaped rail "fence-let" in a corner of her front yard, with a large boulder surrounded by white stones nestled in the grass inside the L. Her flag was always flying. Every time we drove past her house we would yell "The driveway's wet!" And it usually was.
I don't think the driveway will be so wet anymore. Two rails have fallen off the fence-let. The flagpole is empty. And, as a sure sign we won't be seeing the Lady in White washing her driveway anymore---there's a big, blue, 95-gallon garbage tote parked right by the front steps.
Sigh.
Time to move.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
You can blame this blog on my oldest daughter. She is the one who said I should get one. I still don't understand why, because I have just about the most boring life anyone could have.
Take today, for instance.
I had oatmeal for breakfast. Now, you have to understand that I am a grown woman with three children and I stay at my parents' house a couple nights a week because I live 60 miles from my job. Gas is over $2.50 a gallon, so I figure it's worth it to stay in town in order to save some money for retirement. Retirement---now THERE is a subject. Probably, by the time I can retire, the money I've saved not commuting back and forth will just buy me a couple more cans of cat food-- dinner!--but I digress.
Back to the oatmeal. When I stay at the homestead, which isn't really the old homestead because it's not the house I grew up in so I call it just the homestead without the "old", my mom often makes oatmeal for breakfast. I always joke that Dad is going through empty nest syndrome without his five children but Mom wasn't unhappy at all to see us go. Well, maybe I was wrong. Because she made enough oatmeal this morning to feed Dad, me, my four scattered siblings, and the latest pet ladybug that has taken up residence next to the coffeemaker.
Let's just say I was full, Dad was full, Mom was full, the ladybug was full, and there was enough for lunch.
After choking down that last bit of breakfast, I went to work where I answered for the fifth time that pressing question: "Where do we submit the peer evaluation forms?" I teach an online course to mostly adult students. You know, professors love to complain about young people not being able to read or not paying attention. In defense of young people, I have noticed that just being an adult does not endow one with good reading comprehension skills either. The interesting thing about this recurring question is that RIGHT SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE of the course home page is the apparently obtuse statement:
"Each team member should fill out and submit the peer evaluation form to the team dropbox. The evaluation form is due the same day as the team assignment."
This statement is SO obtuse that one student, who copied it verbatim to the group discussion forum on Sunday afternoon, IM'd me Sunday night to ask "Where do we submit the peer evaluation forms?"
I sent the entire class a screen shot of the course home page with the offending phrase conveniently highlighted.
Next, I tackled the mountain of reference formatting I have to do in the paper I am currently writing. I think instead of impact factors based on number of citations we should rate journals by the silliness of their citation style--in which case this journal will rank first. My school doesn't supply us with personal copies of EndNote, and I am too poor to buy it, so I am reduced to painfully formatting each and every reference bit by bit. By noon I was up to the P's and ready for a break. And, incredibly, I was hungry.
Fast forward to evening (believe me, nothing special happened between noon and 7 p.m., other than the library study room I reserved two weeks ago being occupied by snotty students who double-booked it and then refused to leave) and I am making chocolate chip cookies for Son. He requested the cookies for the Lovely Rachel's birthday on Friday. I am so fond of his high-school-now- college friends that I drove home through an April snowstorm so I could make the cookies for her. While mixing the second batch, hubby walked in and we had a surreal "Who's On First" type conversation about the company our daughter is interviewing with in a couple of weeks.
Hubby: How is Daughter?
Me: She is fine. She got a call from a company in B City and they want her to come for an interview.
Him: B City is a housing company.
Me: No, it's a town in X state.
Him: Who?
Me: It's a town where President Q used to live
Him: The housing company?
Me: NO! B CITY IS THE TOWN THE COMPANY IS IN! I DON'T KNOW THE NAME OF THE COMPANY!
Him: What's the name of the company? Is it a housing company?
On that note, I think I've posted enough for now.
If you've found this boring, blame Oldest Daughter. Her fault. I *told* you it was boring.
Take today, for instance.
I had oatmeal for breakfast. Now, you have to understand that I am a grown woman with three children and I stay at my parents' house a couple nights a week because I live 60 miles from my job. Gas is over $2.50 a gallon, so I figure it's worth it to stay in town in order to save some money for retirement. Retirement---now THERE is a subject. Probably, by the time I can retire, the money I've saved not commuting back and forth will just buy me a couple more cans of cat food-- dinner!--but I digress.
Back to the oatmeal. When I stay at the homestead, which isn't really the old homestead because it's not the house I grew up in so I call it just the homestead without the "old", my mom often makes oatmeal for breakfast. I always joke that Dad is going through empty nest syndrome without his five children but Mom wasn't unhappy at all to see us go. Well, maybe I was wrong. Because she made enough oatmeal this morning to feed Dad, me, my four scattered siblings, and the latest pet ladybug that has taken up residence next to the coffeemaker.
Let's just say I was full, Dad was full, Mom was full, the ladybug was full, and there was enough for lunch.
After choking down that last bit of breakfast, I went to work where I answered for the fifth time that pressing question: "Where do we submit the peer evaluation forms?" I teach an online course to mostly adult students. You know, professors love to complain about young people not being able to read or not paying attention. In defense of young people, I have noticed that just being an adult does not endow one with good reading comprehension skills either. The interesting thing about this recurring question is that RIGHT SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE of the course home page is the apparently obtuse statement:
"Each team member should fill out and submit the peer evaluation form to the team dropbox. The evaluation form is due the same day as the team assignment."
This statement is SO obtuse that one student, who copied it verbatim to the group discussion forum on Sunday afternoon, IM'd me Sunday night to ask "Where do we submit the peer evaluation forms?"
I sent the entire class a screen shot of the course home page with the offending phrase conveniently highlighted.
Next, I tackled the mountain of reference formatting I have to do in the paper I am currently writing. I think instead of impact factors based on number of citations we should rate journals by the silliness of their citation style--in which case this journal will rank first. My school doesn't supply us with personal copies of EndNote, and I am too poor to buy it, so I am reduced to painfully formatting each and every reference bit by bit. By noon I was up to the P's and ready for a break. And, incredibly, I was hungry.
Fast forward to evening (believe me, nothing special happened between noon and 7 p.m., other than the library study room I reserved two weeks ago being occupied by snotty students who double-booked it and then refused to leave) and I am making chocolate chip cookies for Son. He requested the cookies for the Lovely Rachel's birthday on Friday. I am so fond of his high-school-now- college friends that I drove home through an April snowstorm so I could make the cookies for her. While mixing the second batch, hubby walked in and we had a surreal "Who's On First" type conversation about the company our daughter is interviewing with in a couple of weeks.
Hubby: How is Daughter?
Me: She is fine. She got a call from a company in B City and they want her to come for an interview.
Him: B City is a housing company.
Me: No, it's a town in X state.
Him: Who?
Me: It's a town where President Q used to live
Him: The housing company?
Me: NO! B CITY IS THE TOWN THE COMPANY IS IN! I DON'T KNOW THE NAME OF THE COMPANY!
Him: What's the name of the company? Is it a housing company?
On that note, I think I've posted enough for now.
If you've found this boring, blame Oldest Daughter. Her fault. I *told* you it was boring.
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