Frog and Goat

Today I went down to the School of Education to talk to a professor about graduate school and while I was there, I rummaged through the graded paper box and grabbed the final two papers from the class I took in the Spring. I pawed past a co-worker’s paper and thought about taking it to her on my way back to my office but then I decided it probably wasn’t kosher to pick up her paper. Especially since I didn’t ask her if she wanted me to grab it.

Of course, I also went right past a paper from the other co-worker who was slack in the class. I missed my opportunity to look to see if the paper in the box was her final (she hadn’t turned it in the last time I heard), but I just kept going until I found my paper. Why must I be so good?

Tomorrow we’re creating a birthday present for someone and I volunteered to go by Target on the way home to pick up some supplies. The birthday girl walked in a freshly laid sidewalk right in front of one of our buildings several weeks ago. One of her shoes got stuck and she ended up on her hands and knees. Unfortunately none of us saw it but we’ve certainly laughed over her story. Yeah, compassionate social worker types have the wickedest sense of humor sometimes. It makes me proud (and no I’m not a social worker).

One person in my office has one of those garden stepping-stone kits at home that she’s bringing in. We’re going to make the stone and put a Barbie or a Polly Pocket in it to simulate the birthday girl’s unfortunate and recent encounter with the sidewalk. I couldn’t decide if the Barbie was better or a Polly Pocket. The Polly Pocket actually has the right hair color but it may be too small for our project. (If The Niece’s parents are reading, The Niece is about to score either a Barbie or a Polly Pocket–whichever we don’t use. And, there are a handful of Polly Pockets in the box so she’ll be getting some PP stuff no matter what. Yay!)

Since when did parts of the Barbie aisle look like Hooker Dolls Gone Wild? Have you seen the Bling Bratz dolls? Who plays with that stuff? I have to admit, it would have helped when we played Barbie. We were sick children and our Barbies often ended up in dismaying story lines.

Last week a local news channel presented the story of the governor of California’s conditions on using National Guard troops to patrol the border. The local news nitwit kept calling him the “Governator”. OK, as a member of the media there’s supposed to be a creed of removing bias during the delivery of the news. Let comedians call Mr. Schwarzenegger names, but as long as he’s serious about doing the job he was actually elected to do, then show him a little respect.

I read in the local newspaper about someone who had six wisdom teeth pulled. There was no mention in the article that six wisdom teeth is an anomaly. Most people have four. I think it’s a disservice the article didn’t mention that. If the newspaper slacks on educating the masses, then what’s their point? Delivering the news you say? Fine, what are you doing when you are receiving the news? Learning something.

Tomorrow is the Mark of the Beast day. I can hardly wait to see how that turns out. I think if it were my due date, I’d be pretty excited about it. But then again, I’m a little weird.

Thunder, crackling lightning, stiff wind, brown-outs. Everything screams major thunderstorm on the horizon.

I run upstairs to turn off my computer but then become side-tracked looking up a recipe for a mojito.

What do most people do with a three-day weekend? Hang out, break out the barbecue, play horseshoes and sleep late. What do we do? Rip up the temporary plywood floor of our porch and install the tongue and groove fir floor. Then we sand and stain it (By the way, the stain? All the claims on their website about being top-notch? True. This stuff rocks.) That’s what we do on a perfectly lovely three-day weekend.