Saturday, February 6, 2010

The Last Word



I like snow as well as the next person, which is to say not much at all.  This is entirely too much snow. 





My husband loves me, and I love him.  This doesn't stop us from engaging in frequent marital chop-busting.   See here.  And here.  More here.  And some more here

There are variations.  Sometimes, it's event-specific , like after I received my fifth speeding ticket in 2009; or like when security man, who never stops nagging me about locking my car, went out and left the front door WIDE OPEN (an event which he still denies, two years after it most assuredly took place).  At other times, the busting of chops is focused on particular quirks.  I never answer my phone, and he'll interrupt anything to answer his.  I misplace things all the time, while he can engage in a lengthy conversation with me and then just a few hours later, forget that the entire conversation took place.  Today, we went a few rounds of what I call situational chop-busting.  This is distinguished from event-specific chop busting in that it occurs during a recurring situation, such as putting up Christmas lights, or negotiating over music selection for a road trip.  Or shoveling snow. 

My normal snow-shoveling method consists of watching from the kitchen window.  That's why I got married, I'll think to myself as I watch my husband shovel.  Today, however, there's really just too much snow for one person to handle.  So I put on my boots and jacket, picked up a shovel, and started to move snow with it.  How long do you suppose it took for him to begin offering helpful critiques of my shoveling technique?  If you guessed longer than "10 seconds", you're wrong. 

"Hey hon?" he said. 

Holy Mother of God, I thought.  Already?  He has a helpful shoveling hint ALREADY?

"What?" I said, in what I hoped was a "don't start with me" voice.  By the way, I'm not sure why I even bother with the "don't start with me" voice, because it has no effect whatsoever on him.  

"Try to move the snow to your right, not to your left.  See, that just adds more snow in back of your car, and I'm eventually going to have to shovel that out, too."

"Fine", I said, with what I felt was a very clear "shut the hell up" tone.  The "shut the hell up" tone is also lost on him.

Since we were trying to shovel out his truck, because that's the only thing we'll be able to drive in an emergency,  I thought it would be wise to clean the truck off first, so that I could then shovel up the snow already on the ground along with the snow I clean off the truck.  That's good thinking, right?  I thought so too.

"Hon?"

Jesus Christ on the Cross, I thought. 

"WHAT?"  My tone here was meant to say "one more word and I'll insert this shovel into a place that was  never designed to accomodate it".  Once again, completely wasted on him.

"You should use the broom on my car.  Good idea to clean the truck off first, but you should use the broom."

"There's two fucking feet of snow on this truck", I said.  "Nothing but a shovel is going to make the slightest dent in this snow.  I'm not going to hurt your car, but I can't promise that I won't assault you with this shovel."

Ha! I win! I thought, as he continued to shovel without further comment.  How long do you think that his diplomatic silence lasted?  If you guessed any length of time longer than thirty seconds, you are wrong again.

"Hon?"

"WHAAAAAT????"  A blind and deaf person would have clearly discerned the "God help you if you say one more word" tone, but he missed it entirely.

"Don't you see where you're shoveling?  That's the grass, there.  You don't need to shovel the snow off the grass.  Just concentrate on making a path down to the street for the truck."

"NO, I can't see where I'm shoveling because AGAIN, there's TWO FEET OF SNOW OUT HERE.  How am I supposed to distinguish grass from pavement when they're both under two feet of snow?"

"Yeah, but the truck is parked on the bump-out, and the grass is right behind the bump-out.  Even you should know where the driveway ends and the grass begins".

"Oh REALLY?  Well you know what else?  EVEN I know that you're wearing a woman's hat!"

"What are you talking about?  My mom made this hat."

"I know. She made it for me. It's a lavendar and teal crocheted cap with a tassel on top.  What about this hat says menswear to you?"

"The fact that it's keeping my head warm.  I don't care what the hat looks like, my head feels just fine."

"And it looks downright pretty.  I have a scarf to match, I can get it for you."

"No, don't bother.  Just keep shoveling out the lawn in case someone needs play badminton.  When you're finished, you can climb up and shake the snow off the tree branches...you never know if a hibernating squirrel's going to need an ambulance up there."

I crack up at things that are far less funny than that, so the back-and-forth ceased for a few minutes.  I'm nothing if not gracious in defeat.  This was a good-natured argument to begin with, but even if it wasn't, I'd have laughed at the tree suggestion. 

We continued to shovel for a bit, talking about this and that.  Did I see how the mailboxes were just barely poking out of the snow?  Yes, I did.  Did he know that the Postal Service had announced that there would be no mail delivery today?  No, really?  Yes, and they'll probably close school on Monday, too. 

I was finally tired, so I decided to take a break.  "Go ahead", he said indulgently.  "I'm going to keep going for a while...it's good that you cleared off some of that grass, in case anyone needs to practice putting."

I put my shovel down.  "That's still a woman's hat", I said.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

This Just In

In other news, winter would have continued for another six weeks anyway. 

Sunday, January 31, 2010

And the Genie Goes to...


5yo and 8yo have spoken!
Aindrea, also known as Fashionista du Jour, is the lucky winner of this beautiful Wendy Brandes Teeny Genie!  Aindrea, email your postal address to me at cdaltonpak@yahoo.com, and I'll ship your necklace right out!  Thanks to everyone who participated, and for all of the good wishes and prayers for Janet. 

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Teeny Genie Drawing TOMORROW

You still have almost 24 hours to win a Wendy Brandes Teeny Genie.  So go!  Clickity-click, right here! 

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

The Reluctant Pursuit of Knowledge

I was halfway listening to the local news as I helped 8yo search for his goggles for swim practice, and I heard a minute of a story about a 101-year old woman who has finally earned her bachelor's degree.  Isn't that sweet, I thought.  Because at my current pace, I shouldn't be a day over 80 when I finally graduate. 

I'm registering now for mid-winter session; or rather, I'm fixing to get ready to register.  I have to figure out what I'm going to take, and how I'm going to summom the motivation to study and write papers again when I can barely throw together my usual half-baked more or less weekly bilge for this blog. 

If you've been reading my blog since I started it in 2007, you know that I started blogging when I decided to go back to school after a 20 year absence.  That's as good a topic for a blog as any, right?  And life as an adult student has yielded some excellent material.  I'm just tired of school, and after a semester's absence, I'm the least motivated and the most discouraged I've been since I started this. 

No, I'm not going to quit (either blogging or school, though both cross my mind every so often).  I'm making progress, it's just very slow progress.  I started with 71 credits, 59 of which transferred, so I needed 61 more.  61 credits at 3 credits per class comes out to 20 classes (I'm not rounding; I took a 1-credit required research course right at the beginning which left me with the easily-divisible-by-3 60).  Right at the beginning, I tried taking multiple classes at once, and found that working full-time, raising two children, and maintaining a house and a social life allows for no more than one at a time.

I was an indifferent student during my first attempt at college.  Now, I'm an excellent student.  As much as I complain about school (and the blog complaining is only a small part of my complaining efforts.  Among my friends and family, I can really extend myself on the subject of the misery of life as an adult student.  This is why I'm so popular), I am very good at it.  I've never received less than an A on any assignment and I generally receive lavish praise from my instructors for my papers and essays.  Two of my professors have told me that I can count on them for recommendations when I apply for graduate school.  But as flattering as this is, and as much as I like and respect these two professors, I must say that I'll see them in Hell before I'll enter graduate school.  My academic career will end when I receive my B.A. 

Counting the CLEP credit from last semester, I've earned 25 credits, so I have 36 to go.  36 credits sounds not bad at all, but 12 classes seems like a very large number of classes.  If I continue to take three per year, I'll finish at the end of 2013.  And you know what?  I won't be anywhere NEAR 80 years old in 2013.  Onward. 

PS:  If you'd like to win my FIRST-EVER giveaway, you have a few days left!  Leave a comment here.  All comments received by 6 PM US Eastern Time on Sunday, January 31 will be entered into the drawing for Wendy's adorable Teeny Genie necklace. 
All material on this blog copyright CDP 2007-2009 unless otherwise noted.