When I Grow Up

I said recently that I didn't know why I was doing that thing I do.  You know, school, school, and more school.  Something else I know, is that the easy part of decision making is deciding what's wrong, or what isn't a good idea.  The hard part comes in when we try and come up with alternatives.

TCoTFW: I actually proposed a research project focusing on the different types of cognitive reasoning and how to produce the most understanding in students with all the different types of questions.  It was all good until I decided that teaching high school is not for me.  In no small part due to the fact that high school should be a compound word, in my opinion.

So, since I'm slightly less than thrilled about this current course of action (no doubt brought to the limelight by the fact that I'm entering yet another semester, and people keep asking, "How many years left?" and "What are you going to do when you're done?" and I don't have answers to either question.  "Quite a few." and "Who knows" are my answers right now.) I decided to entertain some alternatives.

Thoughts from the early morning garden

Today I got up with the sun.  Well, nearly.  And after sending Handsome packing, I decided to take care of those pesky bugs out in my garden once and for all.  So Duke-a-loop and I set out armed with gloves, spray, a mini cultivator, an iron will (one of my favorite movies, but not what I meant here), and a ridiculous ability to slobber (that ones all Duke).

While we were fighting the pesky foes, I realized something about myself that I probably should have known before: I trash talk inanimate objects.  More specifically, bugs.  I do.  I don't know if the fact that they're so small makes me feel strong and tough or if its something deeper, but here's how it went:

Me: Oh, I see you're hiding up under that leaf.  You'd better hide.  Thats right I'm coming for you

Bugs: ...

Me: Yeah, you thought you could get away with eating my tomato leaves, well think again!

Bugs: ...

Me: You ought to be ashamed of yourself, freeloading like that.  I'll bet you never worked a day 

      in your life.  You're an embarrassment.  

Bugs: ...

Me: You heard me.  An embarrassment.  And you know what else?  *pulling out the big guns* YOUR 

      MOM'S AN EMBARRASSMENT.

Bugs: ...

And it goes on.  Perhaps this is not a healthy practice, but honestly, I enjoy it and I'm not going to stop.  I do the same thing to bugs I find in my house.  For example, after watching the glorious Pittsburgh Steelers tromp the Browns two seasons ago during Monday (Thursday?) night football, I saw a cockroach palmetto bug crawling across my wall. 

DISCLAIMER: They're everywhere down here.  The presence of them has naught to do with the cleanliness of your home.  They're just a fact.  Its one of the only things that make me want to move back to cold weather.

Now, normally, this situation is cause for extreme alarm and emotional distress, but I was so pumped up about the Steelers game and so I grabbed a nearby shoe and in true Braveheart style went leaping from the couch shouting "NOT IN MY HOUSE!!" and boom.  Dead. 

So, now you know that about me.  And if you ever come up to my door and hear me really going to town bashing someone's mom, its probably a bug.  Or it might be a brother of mine.  Because for some reason, I also find it funny to throw a "your mom" into conversation when talking to my brothers.  I know, then I'm talking about my mom too.  Thats why its funny, duh...

Now I'm heading out to go shopping for some business casual wear, so that tomorrow when the clock strikes way-too-early o'clock, I can head out into the world of grown-ups and real jobs looking like business.  I also plan to have my hair in curlers during my commute; because its efficient.  

Putting insects in their place,

TFW