Wednesday, November 07, 2007

Mid-Week...You Know What That Means!

Yup. It's time for the Wednesday Night Bullet Post, a salute to all things random and a gift for a Sheep who tries to blog nightly but often runs low on material. It's a gift to all of us, really. I mean, I like finding interesting material in the mundane as much as the next gal. But, Great Jumpin' Jellybeans...where would we be without this nice little break in the middle? Let's have at it!

*My Cheerful Teaching Assistant has an outlook as sunny as a spring day. God bless her little heart. She is a treasure. And, thus, it was hard to not catch her enthusiasm regarding what she believed was the imminent delivery of our new laptops. Ordered through the school back in September, they have been a long time in coming. I had resolutely promised myself to simply give up hope and accept the fact that all tech guys lie. They don't have laptops for sale. They will tell you they are ordering them. But they don't. It's all a conspiracy to make us sign up for payroll deduction so they can buy fancy new pocket protectors...

*But, I caught the fever. I believed that my Cheerful Teaching Assistant must have a direct line to some great well of hope that would surely sustain us both and reward us with a shower of new laptops. She firmly believed that today was going to be the day...

*There is a very sad Cheerful Teaching Assistant moping around southern Maine tonight. There is also an older and wiser Sheep who should have known better and is resolving once again to become bitter and untrusting. There were no laptops delivered today.

*I wonder if I can still get my laptop from prison? If anything should happen to the tech guy who did the ordering, I won't have been the perpetrator. But I seriously doubt that there is a jury in this land who wouldn't convict me in a heartbeat based on the many, many muttered threats I've made of late.

*I have never more in my life wanted to give gas pumping instructions to anyone as much I wanted to do so this morning. The poor lady at the pumps next to me was doing it all wrong. And by, "wrong" I mean ridiculously, horrifically wrong. You have to be gentle with the pump. You can't force these things. Her indelicate strategy resulted in the pumps periodically shutting down, forcing her to give up in disgust. The final "Oh to heck with this" yank on the hose as she extracted the nozzle caused a spray of precious go-juice that I wanted to just mop up with a hanky for future use. Gas ain't cheap, people.

*Pumping fuel is not for amateurs...

*My sixth graders are going on a field trip tomorrow. I am sending my Cheerful Teaching Assistant rather than go myself. I should feel worse about this than I do. She is young and can take this sort of torture. I am not. I will stay behind and amuse the fifth graders.

*Don't feel too badly for my CTA. My fifth graders are an "energetic" and "opinionated" bunch.

*Remind me to pack a lunch for the sixth grader who won't remember to bring one. I hope he likes tuna fish. That's all I have. I have pears, though. I know he likes those.

*He forgot breakfast today. Hence, he ate my lunch. No pears for Sheepie today...

*I was struck this morning by my lack of purple socks. I have handknit socks in many, many colors. How is it that I don't have any purple ones? And when did my wardrobe shift to purple? Once the holidays are over and I go back to sock knitting, I'm going to have to deal with the lack of purple socks. You might want to make a note to remind me of that one, too.

*I finally made an appointment to get the oil changed in the truck. I figure it's a three day weekend and I can sacrifice one day to get that done. It is also a good time to hear about all the other things they can find that are wrong with this cursed vehicle. I'm going on Saturday since I like to kick off the weekend in style.

*I'll knit on the Chevron Stripes Scarf so I don't have to look through that big window at the mechanics gathered around my truck, shaking their heads and consulting a variety of manuals. I don't need to see that...

*Every single spot into which I have tried to place a foot has been occupied by a cat this evening. This is going to be one of those nights where two cats seem to have suddenly exploded into three hundred and fifty-two. They are everywhere!!! And they don't seem to be moving.

*Which begs the question: How is it they can suddenly be where I need to be at a moment's notice? Mind boggling, really...

*I really wish I was typing this post on a new laptop. That'd just be wicked keen.

*I turned on the heat last night. Then I left it on all night long. It was delightful! I've been holding out for a while since the weather wasn't really all that bad. But the time has come. Let there be heat!

*You may now all safely assume that my hot flashes have passed. We are back to being chilled and unable to feel our toesies.

*Speaking of toesies, can anyone explain to me the sudden urge I felt at 8:30 last night to begin hand washing all the knitted socks? I know that it needs to be done and all. But washing the socks at that late hour wasn't going to let me get too far and still make it to bed at a reasonable hour. But, at least I will have some clean, handknit socks for the rest of the week!

*Just no purple ones...

Happiest of Wednesdays to all and to all a good night! Tomorrow, I shall be regaling the blogging world with another book review and dazzling the readers with my stunning observations on youth literature. Stay tuned!

SA

16 comments:

Donna Lee said...

I must confess that I could have been the woman at the gas pump. I am a jersey girl and we don't pump gas here. It's against the law and I have to say, I am glad. I have never pumped gas and I am sure I would not like it although I am independent in most other ways.

Mouse said...

We used to have a choice in PA on whether we'd like "self" serve or "full" serve at the pump.. and I must admit that it was really nice when I was dressed for work (pantyhose/skirt/heels) to not have to get out and pump my own gas.
They stopped doing that though and I was forced to learn to pump my own.. which I still hate. I consider myself a liberated and independent woman but there are just some things a girl shouldn't HAVE to do!

Knitting Linguist said...

I think that your sudden desire to hand wash socks last night is a nesting urge that is indicative of some sort of gestation -- probably of the purple socks that you so desperately need. I have some nice Dream in Color that is destined to become my first pair of purple socks, but alas, I am too far away to share...Enjoy not being on a bus tomorrow!

Anne said...

tomorrow my 5th grader (and all of her classmates) is going on a field trip to a local historic landmark. Let's just say I'll be sharing the joy of *not* being on a field trip!

what fun to imagine your first pair of purple socks--although it is bringing to mind an irresistible rewriting of If You Give a Pig a Pancake ... do you know that one?

Em said...

Getting your oil changed shouldn't be traumatic, where do you take it? Do you do other routine maintenance? Is your vehicle doing anything else unusual? Sorry, it's the parts person in me (i work at autozone).

I'm with Momolla (donna), that could've been me. I was trying to pump gas in PA and the automatic nozzle thingy was broken, unbeknownst to me, and it overfilled my tank and spilled a quart or two of gas down the side of my car and my feet. Gas pumps are not for the faint of heart!

Kath said...

Sorry, but I tend to think that knowing how to pump gas into a vehicle is an important basic life skill. I learned how to do that along with learning how to drive when I was a teenager. I'll give people a pass on knowing how to check any of the fluids or change a tire - but pumping gas is essential.

That said - I frequently have to watch people try to figure out how to put gas in golf carts - and that's kind of entertaining!

Yarnhog said...

So many thoughts, so little time. I'm going to resist the urge to make any comments about the source of your progression toward purple (as in "When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple..."), because I have taken careful note of your warnings about menopause and I don't have any chocolate handy to soothe you should you take my humor badly.

As for the gas thing, I'm a native of Southern California, and we learn that along with tying our own shoes, but I did once spend half an hour searching for the gas tank on my mom's Corvette when I borrowed it for a night out. It was behind the license plate. Now how was I supposed to know that?

Rabbitch said...

IMHO people who can't pump their own gas, check the oil and change their own tire really aren't prepared to be in charge of a motor vehicle.

That being said, my husband drove the van without oil in it and it's now an expensive paperweight (not that I'm bitter!) and he supposedly knows about "car stuff". So I suppose I should have said people who ~can~ pump their own gas, check the oil and change their own tire but who don't alre also really not prepared to be in charge of a motor vehicle.

Really. Not bitter at all.

trek said...

Wicked keen, indeed. The Sheep was really the winner of the Furnace Wars this year!

Mia said...

"Great Jumpin' Jellybeans"

I LOVE that one Sheepie hehehe.. I might say it a lot today :)

And when the blessed day comess that the laptop finally arrives.. I DO hope we'll see pictures :)

And I love the part about pumping gas is not for amateurs. Too true!

Julie said...

You are a wise Sheep to send the CTA on the field trip; that'll teach her to get your hopes up about the laptop!

I have the same problem with my kitties always being where my foot wants to go next (of course I have a few more kitties than you).

Beth said...

I love the randomness of your post. I mean, the WNBP are always random, but this week was especially good.

I was never so happy to see a gas station as I was yesterday. I forgot to get gas before taking my mom to the airport. I've never been that low on gas before and I was so thankful I didn't run out on the highway.

April said...

Purple yarn.

Duly noted.

kmkat said...

"...wicked keen..." Heh.

My cats can settle onto my desk chair faster than a speeding bullet, even when I merely lift my petite derrière (hah!) a quarter of an inch to reach a USB cable or something. Then they squawk when I replace the aforementioned petite derrière (hah!) onto the chair. Da noive, they seem to say. This is our chair, you know, and thank you for warming it. Now go make yourself useful and fill our feeder.

mehitabel said...

If the world were run properly, all gas would be pumped by hot guys with nice abs and sincere smiles. Since it isn't, then I guess we have to make do with little old ladies (like me) pumping their own in a truly klutzy fashion, and then smearing mud all over their windshields when trying to wash off said mud.

Lorraine said...

Hmmmm - I never thought of my penchant for purple socks as a sign of age . . . It's just the most interesting of Hockeyman's team colors, the other two being gold and black.

Come to think of it, I don't have any gold socks . . .