Crevette (crevette) wrote,
Crevette
crevette

What to write, what to write?

I'm sitting here at O's karate studio updating.

Why, you might ask, are you not out on the Pinellas Trail, doing a training walk of 16 miles in the Florida sun?

Because I do not have gills. Today there is no sun.

I woke up at 4:30 AM to get myself ready for the 5:45 AM meet up. (Meeting place is 1/2 hour--with no traffic) from my house, so I have to wake up early enough to try and choke down some food (hah!) and allow my lower intestine enough time to wake up and function (double HAH! Usually that bad boy kicks in about 3 miles from the nearest bathroom--which is assured of having absolutely no toilet paper, no water pressure for flushing, and a floor so filthy-sticky that I'm liable to lose sneaker tread on it).

So this morning I woke up and it was lightning and thundering and POURING. I checked the radar and there was more on the way.

I agonized over it. I really did. You might not think I would agonize about crawling back into bed at 4:45 AM, but I did. I texted telaryn that with the lightning I was not going. Plus with the blister issues I've been having, the last thing I need to do was sixteen miles in wet shoes. I'll do 14 tomorrow.

And to put it in the most simple, most basic terms I can: Given my propensity for freak accidents, who do you think will be the person most likely to be struck by lightning? I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count.

Yeah, I'd be a 5'2 1/2" (I work that 1/2 inch too, baby...) frosted blonde lightning rod.

So here I sit. I talked briefly to telaryn and she went and was almost done. Rain? Stop perky Bataan Death March Cheerleader? NEVAH! Rain is for PUSSIES! (and to be honest, the overcast makes it so much easier to walk long distances because even though the humidity makes it like walking through a wet, hot towel, doing in the sun makes it like walking into a wet, hot towel wrapped around a dog with a high fever.)

I was being mightily mocked by telaryn and the walkers in her group till I pointed out my likelyhood of becoming a blackened grease spot on the pavement. It went silent on the other end of the phone--probably because they were all wondering who would really want to be standing next to me when that shit went down? telaryn and tinne have already had their turns. I don't think anyone else wants to do that.

So I got up this morning and did my hour on the elliptical at the Y. O is doing 2 hours today at Choi (we cut back one of her weeknight classes because of her homework load--more on that later) and I might go back to the Y later to go lift weights. Haven't done that in a while.

But it's pouring right now. The rain is coming down so hard on the metal roof I can hear it over my Ipod and the kids doing their screaming.

Liv is doing well in school. She's in the super-de-duper math and science classes, as well as advanced and gifted everything else.

I've watched her do her math. She even tried to explain it to me once. Something about 'Mod 7' or something where you do this function, and add that and then divide and the answer is your remainder and it goes on this chart here.

A few minutes after this explanation, she asks me, "So... mom. Did I explain that well enough that you might be able to help me with my homework?"

Uhm... NO. I'm a math 'tard. I don't like math, can't do it.

Let me qualify that. I work with math all day. I figure square footage, cubic footage, square yards, linear feet, perimeter, yadda yadda all day--anything needed for estimating. I figure unit costs based down into materials and labor. I figure tax rates. I figure depreciation figures and insurance settlements all fucking day.

Note that in all those computations--in math, mind you--there are no letters. I work in numbers. Math is numbers. Once you throw a letter, such as the ever present 'x' or the lovely 'y' or even a vowel and it ceases to be math for me. It then becomes ancient Greek or Sanskrit or something even more obscure.

Now that doesn't preclude me from using formulas to figure out geometric area. We all know how to figure the area of a right triangle.

But Liv is not doing triangles. Noooo... she's doing... doing... I honestly don't fucking know what the fuck she's doing. But she's making good grades at it, so I can't complain.

Do they make a Hallmark card for that? "Congratulations for excelling at something that I can never comprehend, but good on you!" Probably not.

The homework is pretty overwhelming in sheer volume. We went to meet her teachers the night before school started and we sat through each of the six period and heard about the expectations.

Teacher 1, Science: "This is a hard course. There will be at least a half hour of homework every night."

Teacher 2, Geography: "This is a very hard course. There will be at least a half hour of homework each night, more on the weekends."

Teacher 3&4, Obscenely hard math: "This is an incredibly hard course. Kids will be failed if they don't maintain a B, and there will be a minimum of two hours of homework each night." (At this point, Liv's eyes got so big they almost rolled out of the sockets, down her cheeks and bounced on the desk)

Teacher 5&6: Obscenely hard language arts and gifted reading: "This is a very, very hard course. Expect at least a half hour of homework every night, plus independant reading, plus special group projects, plus additional at home computer work."

At this point Liv looked like she wanted to open a vein. In between this, the stress of worrying if she'll be able to open her locker (which she was, but it kept her awake for two weeks in a state of sheer fear) and the fact that she's probably going to start her period pretty soon (and if she doesn't I will FUCKING KILL HER MOODY ASS) made the first week of school interesting.

Of course, now she's all better. telaryn got her a tshirt from some comic series called Girl Genius that she wears like an ID tag/badge of honor.

Her mad Karate skilz will keep her from getting beaten up, and she has made best friends forever with several of the girls in her class (because even though they change classes, all the same kids go to all the same classes--go figure). (as an aside she has proclaimed all the boys in her class "stupid morons" for some reason--and I'm very happy and relieved that she still perceives them this way. Praise be.)

So now I have to figure out what to do for the rest of the day. I'm used to coming home barely able to move, smellng with a funk out of the 9th pit of Hell and the need for a nap.

Maybe Liv and I will go turn off all the lights and watch Aliens. We let her watch the first one with us last night--I admit I was pretty worried how badly it would freak her out (It still makes me jump and scream) but then she explained to me the Alien lifecycle in great and gory detail--because she's seen the PG13 Alien vs. Predator. So really, the stuff I thought would freak her out, she's already seen.

She pronounced the movie "Okay", not very scary and the only reason she was jumping and screaming was because I was. Yeah.

Personally I like the second movie much better--no suspense. Just shoot 'em up, and Bill Paxton screaming, "Game over! Game over, man!" That might be fun for a rainy afternoon since the Y just went out the window (I let O go swimming in the indoor pool while I lift, but she can't swim if there's lightning).

The bright side of this weather is that the Jehovah's Witnesses that have started covering the neighborhood again won't be out.

That always intrigues me, actually. Not the fact that the JWs are out in a neighborhood that is at least 85% Scientologist, in a city that is 70% owned by the Church of Scientology (the visual of the two groups trying to convert each other until they're blue in the face--amusing but not realistic since the Scientologists don't go door to door. They just have yard sales and shit--you've never lived till you go to a yardsale and find Church of Scientology tapes, DVDs and bridge materials being cleared out for pennies on the dollar.)

Let me just say that I have every respect for the Jehovah Witnesses. Their faith says they have to do this, fine. I politely tell them: No thank you, No I don't want a Watchtower. Have a nice day. And they thank me politely and go on their way. No problems.

What I always wonder is why in a faith that says that there are a limited number of slots for paradise (I understand that JWs say that there are 144,000 elect that get to go to heaven), why are they going door to door to try and get more people in?

I'm a simple woman with no mad math skilz but even I can see having the advantage of odds on your side. If there's 144,000 slots, and you've got a million people fighting for them, that's a 1.44 in 10 chance that you're going to heaven. I assume those slots are for everyone, living and dead, given that a ressurection seems to a lynchpin of most Christ based faiths.

Wouldn't it make more sense to tighten those odds a little? I don't think I'd be going door to door. I'd be all quiet and silent and "I got a secret... I know something you don't know." and stuff. And when people say, "See you later" I'd be all, "Probably not in the long run. Hee!"

People would have to come to me. I might actually make them beg. (If I were to say "And pay obscene amounts of money" to that, we'd have the Church of Scientology, actually. I wonder if L. Ron had a Jehovah Witness problem in his neighborhood...)

Maybe I'll ask them that next time they come to the door. That could be fun and if the answer is good enough, maybe I'll buy a copy of the Watchtower.

Just to give them false hope, of course.

Heh. No wonder I'm afraid of being hit by lightning. It all comes clear now.
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