Frog and Goat

Yesterday I was vacuuming and thinking about geometry. Don’t ask. It is impossible to tell you why things pop into my head.

I was thinking about taking geometry in the 10th grade and how I hated it because I’d get papers back with “well written proof but it’s wrong” scrawled across the top. I had at least 4 teachers that year–they all left for a variety of reasons. One, I found out years later, was a raging alcoholic. He showed up at a Don’t Drink thing at the college I went to and told his sad story of how he bailed on a 10th grade geometry class. Man, what are the odds that a smart-ass would say from the back of the room that she was in that class?

Anyway, back to not liking geometry. The class should have been like a dream for me. You make up a story and as long as it’s believable it’s right…wrong. It always annoyed me that the rules for all other writing were just tossed right out the door. Seriously, if you think about writing a story, poem, research paper or whatnot, it is always important that you make it make sense. If you want to write about the little people who live in the front yard, make people believe it and you are on your way to a good story.

Too bad math isn’t like that.

To all the parents out there of future grocery store clerks:

I beg you to please introduce your children to fresh vegetables and fruits. Get them familiar with the idea that there’s more to life than iceberg lettuce. Limes are round green citrus and are frequently sold 3 for a dollar. And, as shocking as it may seem, herbs come right out of the ground. The rest of the world will thank you for the time you spend in the produce aisle prepping your kids.

*A strange bit of numerology…927 entries 297 comments.

Our neighborhood is lame. It should come as no surprise that we moved into the one neighborhood on the planet that is populated by freaks who don’t let their kids trick or treat. The one time of the year I want people to stop by our house and we only get a handful of kids. At least I can go back to my misanthropic ways and hope that no one even looks this way.

Our first trick-or-treater showed up with his mom and baby sister. They are the ones with the house for sale that’s very similar to ours. She said they’ve lived in the neighborhood for three years and there’s never been any Halloween fun. I guess it’s a good thing we put up the pumpkin lights, the strobe and the black light. Otherwise we wouldn’t have seen one witch, ghost or gremlin. As it was, I was practically begging the kids to take as many candies as they wanted. I thanked them profusely for stopping by. Sigh, I’m now the pathetic woman down the street.

The people at work are the recipients of the gummy body parts and all of the twizzler flavors I don’t like. Lucky them.

I’m wearing a freaky hat and our psychedelic Halloween display is in full-on mode so where are the kids? For crying out loud it is almost 6pm.

Update: 8:45pm–6 kids. Disappointment and way too much leftover candy abound.

Yesterday started a little earlier than I had planned. I’m in a training this week and planned on sleeping a little later. The phone rang early and it was my mother. My grandmother died early Monday morning. This last year has not been a good year for her and I believe she’s in a much better place now. I was torn about whether or not I should write about her death here. I decided to go ahead with it because she was interested in technology. The better-half and I would take the laptop over and show her pictures of different things we were working on and for her 90th birthday soiree my mother and I made a slide show that really went over well. My grandmother liked it and everyone at the party got a chuckle. It seems fitting to write about her death here in that context. She may have thought it was cool to be on the internet.

And, this choice of photos? From the slide show. It got a lot of laughs, especially from her.