
This is an actual headline from the New York Times.
I don’t want my eyes any more.

This is an actual headline from the New York Times.
I don’t want my eyes any more.
The boys are out of school next week. Spousal Unit is taking them up to Canada, to visit a family property before it’s sold out of the family. I’ll be staying here, because my week off from school was last week.
Last night he said, “What are you going to do next week while we’re gone?”
“I’ll probably really enjoy it for the first two days, and then spend the rest of the week wandering around and wondering why it’s so quiet.”
On another topic, I just played Anti-Phishing Phil, a game to teach kids how to spot phishing links. I got ‘em all right. Where’s my prize?
Found the game on Clark Howard’s web site, which also links to a calculator that helps you figure out whether it’s worth trading in your gas-guzzler. As you can see, I’m being really productive this evening.

Meet John Barrowman. He’s been in numerous movies and television shows, most recently starring in the British drama Torchwood. Isn’t he gorgeous? I know what I want for Christmas next year.
He’s gay. I’m married. We’re a perfect couple.
I was going to get so much done over spring break.
Instead, I caught a cold. So I’ve done one extra credit assignment, and about half of the big Practices project. The rest of the time I shuffle around like a zombie, muttering incoherently at my family and hissing when I’m touched by direct sunlight.
Crap.

Can’t remember what twisted friend on LiveJournal posted this one.
Finally made it to spring break, and the first thing I do is get sick. Woke up Saturday with a sore throat and generally feeling icky; Sunday I felt like warmed-over crap and just croaked around on the couch all day, sending the Spousal Unit out for soup and sodas and junk food.
Today I was lively enough to shower and dress, so I must be on the mend. Guess it wasn’t the Flu from Hell that’s been going around.
While I’ve got you here, let me point you over to Match It for Pratchett. You may not have heard that Terry Pratchett has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, which really sucks. Pratchett’s donated £500,000 to research on the disease (that’s about $1 million in U.S. money nowadays), and his fans are doing their damndest to meet or exceed that amount.
Go, now, and toss in a buck or ten, because
The presentation in Practices is over with. Sweet Studious Boy was preparing with his group at the same time my group was going over our notes, so he’s evidently decided to stick it out. I’m glad he didn’t drop the class.

After we’d done our presentation I was finished for the day, so I headed back to my little Honda Fit—and discovered a little red Fit had parked next to my little gray Fit. They were so cute I had to take a picture. Well, maybe it was just an excuse to take a picture of mine.
Got my Intermediate test back, and our Controls instructor posted the grades for that test—A’s on both. Holy crap! I was figuring I’d get a C on Intermediate, or maybe a B.
And now the spring break week stretches ahead of me. Plenty of time to work on the Practices project, the Ethics paper, the Intermediate and Controls extra credit projects, and maybe get ahead on the Software classwork a little bit.
Er… wait, wasn’t there supposed to be a break in there somewhere? Oh, well.
Wow, what a long week. Two tests, a small presentation for Ethics class, and a major one for Practices. They’re group presentations, because part of what we’re supposed to be learning is how to work in a group.
Until this semester, I’ve maintained the delusion that all my classmates were hard-working, dedicated students who are really interested in learning this material and want to do the best they can in their classes. I’ve largely succeeded because those are the students I tend to spend time with between classes. Now, with the instructors choosing our groups for us, I’ve finally gotten to experience the other kind of student.
In case I haven’t mentioned it before, this is the end of the second year of this curriculum. Most of us will be done after this semester (I still have a few straggler courses to pick up). The Practices class, for example, has a prerequisite of Intermediate Accounting I. Intermediate has a prereq of Principles of Accounting.
Basically, if you’re in this class at all, you’ve had at least two semesters of accounting prior to this. More likely you’ve had three, as this is the last semester of the scheduled curriculum.
So could someone please explain to me how a person could be taking Practices and yet not know where owner’s equity should go on a balance sheet?
This isn’t hard stuff. This is stuff we (should have) learned ‘way back in Principles—the class which is required for all the others. Yet one of my group members, when we were going over the financial statements our group is supposed to be correcting, waved her hand dismissively and laughed “I don’t know where any of that stuff goes.”
Here’s a brief lesson for those of you who have no accounting background. The basic accounting equation, the first thing the Principles instructors write up on the board in GREAT BIG LETTERS, the Alpha and the Omega of accounting, is this:
The balance sheet is essentially a detailed report of this equation. It has three major sections. Can anyone guess what those sections are?
Now class, for extra credit, under which section would you list the owner’s equity?
*headdesk*
One thing about a two-year degree in a (relatively) small community college is that by the end of the second year, you’ve pretty much gotten to know everyone else in your curriculum. Most of the more specialized classes are only offered once or twice a semester, so you’re in all the same classes. At this point there’s a group of six or eight of us who take over a table in the cafeteria around lunchtime to do homework together, compare notes, and generally socialize. Other classmates form smaller groups around the cafeteria (we’re in all the same classes, so we’re all having lunch at the same time) and the groups shift and wander as we go back and forth touching base with each other.
So we pretty much all know what’s going on with our classmates. And I was distressed to hear today that Sweet Studious Boy is considering dropping out of our Practices class. We’re two-thirds of the way through the semester, and all I can think of is all the work he’s put in already. I don’t know if he’s trying to lighten his course load because of problems in his personal life—he’s been very tired and withdrawn the last couple of weeks—or if it’s a conflict with a member of his group.
I also don’t know if I should try and talk him into hanging in there—the group project only has one more week and then it’s done—or if my solicitude would only make things harder for him. He’s very shy; the instructor has been calling him the wrong name all semester and SSB hasn’t protested once (I asked him about it the first week: “It doesn’t bother me.” It may not bother SSB, but it’s driving me nuts).
He may already have done it; the withdrawal deadline is tomorrow.
Sunday night I reminded my kids they had a dentist appointment Monday.
My oldest said, “Okay, how’s this going to work?”
I was puzzled by the question; the kid’s had braces for a year and is quite familiar with dental procedures. “It’s just a cleaning and checkup,” I began.
My husband intervened to provide a translation. “What he means is, will he be getting out of school for this?”
Ah. Right.
Me: We could watch one of our Netflix movies.
He: I’m not really enthusiastic about any of the ones we’ve got.
Me: Neither am I. They’re like cars on the freeway.
He: *puzzled look*
Me: It’s like how some cars go slow on the freeway, and the fast cars catch up to them and then get all bunched up because they can’t get past. That’s how our movies are that we only sort of want to see. We watch the ones we’re really interested in first, and then we’ve got the slow movers left, bunching everything up behind them.
He: Sometimes I think you’d be happier if you were less intelligent. You wouldn’t have so many thoughts.
Me: I wouldn’t be nearly as entertaining to you, though.
He: True.
My youngest is 13 today.
I now have two teenagers living in my house.
God help me.
I love Instant Messaging. I use Trillian, a client that lets me hook in to most of the major IM networks from one program. That’s useful when seemingly every friend you have on teh intarwebz is using a different IM network.
Like anything else on the ‘net, instant messaging is under seige from spamming bastards who want me to pay for their advertising. So I’ve got my preferences set to only accept messages from people on my friends list. Only problem is, AOL keeps trying to hijack my IM client—every few weeks it spontaneously adds a new “AIMbot” to my friends list, without my permission. I delete the bot, a few weeks later another one shows up.
And one showed up this morning. There is no setting for “I do not want your bots, ever.” I’m sick of deleting them, and the few contacts I have on AIM aren’t online enough to make it worth dealing with a company that doesn’t respect my stated preferences. AIM is out. Sorry to anyone who can’t reach me now; I’m still on Yahoo, MSN, and ICQ, and I can add others if necessary. As long as they aren’t from AOL.
A touch-screen display that can be inserted under the skin and is powered by your own blood. Never lose your cell phone again!
I find this simultaneously really cool, and extremely creepy.