It's A Beautiful Day

So I used to live in Suburbia Disturbia, large houses, big yards, and in our particular subdivision (or living community, as we preferred to be called) an impressive dedication to expensive car ownership. It was beautiful, really it was, and I loved my cool house, which was actually quite unique. But man, we did not hang with the neighbors. Like ever. They were either tense or on call or both tense and on call (I think you had to be an MD to live there, well except for the one single lady who lived in Hogwarts across the street, she was a DuPont). And also I kept getting accused of being the nanny, which was either offensive or a compliment and I never figured out which one it was.

Contrast with tonight, where we hung out in the neighborhood from the time the boys got home from school until bedtime. First we talked to a really nice woman from two streets over for about a half an hour about dogs while our puppies wrestled wildly on another neighbor's lawn. Then our other neighbors came to join us, and my kids ended up in their backyard. I eventually meandered over, had some wine, and we ended up sitting out on their back patio talking while the kids played dodgeball. We ordered pizza, I went home to grab some fruits and veggies, and we all ate in the backyard. Finally the kids went out on the sidewalk and drew anatomically correct chalk figures, labeling them with hilarious things like "butt" and "moron". On that note it was time for bed, and I had two filthy little dudes to corral home. 

Surely You're Joking, Albert Einstein

The Greatest Physics Comeback of All Time was a resounding success, I am happy to report. Without going into specifics, I'll say that I am fantastically pleased with my grade and it represents a fairly large improvement over the shit grade, also known as the Bra Size I Will Never Achieve, that I had about 5 weeks ago. Which I do believe is fairly awesome. To celebrate, I will be doing laundry (folding according to efficiency principles of close-packing), wearing sunglasses (using Malus' law to polarize incoming light into I⁰cos²⊝), and maybe planting the veggie garden after analyzing the wavelengths of light incident upon the patch of dirt (of course after calculating the water potential of the area). Use your knowledge, that's what I always say.

Some haiku, to express my semester:

Physics, govern Earth,

Bodies of the Universe

Leave me out of it

Plants around you die

Allelopathy, Stop It!

Black walnut, you're mean.

Base pairs bond tightly

Electrophoresis, fun!

I cDNA

Bite the Bullet

This is the post in which I cuss madly due to the pain of a festering wound on the arch of my foot. Bottom of my foot, which means that each time I step on it I nearly pass out from agonizing stabbing feelings. Apparently in the race on Saturday I ran so fast that my skin could not even hold up to the friction of the road passing under my feet at the speed of sound. So this big ass blister formed, which I popped that night (of course, who could resist, right? It was mildly satisfying). Then yesterday I engaged in some baseball playing outside with the boyz, and I could feel it rubbing and hurting. I looked at it last night and realized that it had formed an angry chancre, which is so much worse than just a blister. Today I can barely walk on the fucker. I circled the red area in permanent marker so I can time how fast it moves up my leg and kills me. So far it's two days, looking like I'll probably make it till three. But after that it could really gather steam and probably my leg will be off by Wednesday.

Only half the shaving, cool.

Rat Race

I ran a race on Saturday, a local 5k. Have I been training, you ask? No, indeed I have not. I ran last week maybe twice, and before that I think I ran in April once, and then before that it's been cold, so hell no (I'm a wuss when it comes to cold, because I have no personal heating skillz at all). It was nice to run again, and even though I am very much at the back of the pack I enjoy the racing competitive feelings, like "Move over, amputee, I'm probably going to pass you in like the next 3 minutes or so." One thing I hate, though, is those fucknuggets who walk, then run, then walk, then run. Mostly I hate that I am next to them throughout the race even though that is their strategy. It hurts, man, that someone who is walking part of the race is totally within the zone of being able to beat me.

I had a hard time finding my stride, which is always my problem in races, actually in life too sometimes. It is hard for me to be in that large pack with everyone starting out fast without just going along. So this time I started out really slowly, trying to oppose the tide of speed racers, and ended up running the first two miles way too slow, which is actually as tiring as running too fast because it burns your legs like hell. I couldn't figure out why I was sucking wind so bad until kind of a long slow downhill at mile 2 where I finally relaxed and hit my (extremely awesome) stride. Then I passed all those walking douche muffins and finished strong, probably just annihilated all the elderly/stroller pushers/young children with short legs. 

You will be seeing more of me, totally killing the middle of the pack at small unimportant races.

Strategery

As it turns out I am not done talking about physics. I'm still thinking about the exam, musing on possible score permutations, recalling questions and second guessing myself. Part of my strategy was to skip the first 20 questions, which were one point each, in order to start right in with the 2-point questions (21-60). Then I would go back to the one-pointers, time permitting. Mathematically, it just makes sense, especially since I have pretty much run out of time on every exam all semester (physics only, usually I'm like a blur on tests). It's the first time in my life that the clock is my nemesis. Each tick brings me closer to the brink of Physics Mount Doom. Like today, there were about 3 questions that I felt certain I could solve given more time, but moved on for the sake of actually finishing the exam. I sacrificed the relationship of two capacitive reactances (one with 4x as great a frequency!) on the altar of grade schemology. It was agonizing, leaving those problems behind, knowing that I could probably solve them. For the greater good, I told myself. The greater physics good.

It was Sophie's Choice, physics style.

Done

Semester 2 of the Plan was over as of noon today when I handed in my physics phynal. It was not too bad, but for a few moments of neurons collapsing under the weight of deep introspection. The important thing is that it's done.  Now I just have to wait and see if the Greatest Physics Comeback of All Time was successful or if it turned into the Most Average Continuation of Sucking at Physics. Hard to say, really. Mostly I felt pretty confident, but that doesn't mean too much, since I kind of have a large ego that often leads to confident feelings when really I should be prostrate with nerves and uncertainty.

Comeback Kid

So this morning is the terminal moment for the greatest physics comeback ever--the final exam. I've crunched some numbers, written some equations, and formed a statistics-based strategy for the exam. It's highly scientific and backed by many minutes of research. With a little bit of luck and maybe an invoking of the spirit of Neils Bohr, I should be able to pull out a decent grade.  If not I guess it is a sign from the universe that I am not meant understand its fundamental principles. I think a lot more people would be motivated in physics class if there were consequences for not understanding it, like tiny rips in the time-space continuum or possibly the cessation of gravity. Physics seems to be functioning fine, though, without the benefit of the understanding of about 99.5% of humans on earth. Physics does not care. It is a cold, cold motherfucker.

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

Even though hearing about other people's dreams is on my top ten most boring things to hear about list, I just have to share what my probably almost insane mind came up with last night. Translucent seaweed puppies. That's right, one part of my many-faceted extremely fucked up dream last night was sitting on the edge of a body of water, which kind of had pallets of seaweed cubes floating in it (food for the seaweed puppies, duh) and there were greenish translucent puppies in the water. They were made of seaweed. Also part of this dream involved small alligator shaped vitamins. Picture this all set in a very elaborate landscape with a full cast of random people doing various things. 

Like Brian Orser's donkey, I must wonder what this says about my psyche, I mean besides the obvious evidence of severe damage. Does it say that I think puppies should photosynthesize? Or that seaweed should be more friendly? Or that pallets of cube-shaped mucilaginous food should be available for beachgoers? I just don't know. 

It is not very restful, sometimes, to be me.

Yo Momma

I am a complete sucker for school Mother's Day gifts. On Friday my little boys had Muffins with Mom at school, where we had muffins (I know you did not see that coming) and then they gave me presents that they had worked on. The elder gave me a flower he had grown from seed (since December, watering every day!) in a modge-podged flower pot with a ring of sparkly beads on it. He also wrote a story about me, telling every one my favorite color, age, and that I am tall. Luckily he did not mention anything embarrassing like that I wear thong underwear or something. The littler one made me a pin with a shrinky dinked duck and a stepping stone with his big ass foot print in it. I'm pretty sure they had to get extra concrete to make one big enough for his freaky paw and still have room for the broken tile pieces and glass beads.

Anyway, I'm sitting here with a sweaty little curly haired boy asleep on me. That's what I'm doing for Mother's Day, just loving the two little dudes. There's not much you can say about being a mom that hasn't already been completely inadequately said. I will just say, though, to mark the day, that I love these two boys so much that I sometimes wish I could flense a pouch into myself, line it with kevlar, and tuck them inside to keep them safe and close and within range of my heartbeat. 

I Need a Butler

I have only 6 days until finals are over, and I can put Physucks behind me forever and ever. Except for that daily use of physics principles thing, that will go on. Anyway, I have an incredible amount of stuff to do over the summer, almost all of which is house-related. The lady who sold me this house (so reluctantly she was crying and would not hand over the keys at the closing--I was not amused) also left it vacant for about 3 years as she had already moved out. And nobody wanted to buy it, because she had it over priced and was unwilling to negotiate. She caved for me, though. Also I really needed a house because mine was already sold.  So as a result, I have a house with incredible potential but that has been uncared for for a long time. 

Roof

Upstairs bathroom, it's really bad and one tile sticks to my foot and comes out every time I'm in there

Downstairs bathroom possibly morphed into entryway/laundry room/ bathroom

Kitchen backsplash and floor

Paint every wall in entire house

Basement since it flooded last week, boys want an invention room

Landscaping, that bush is coming out. And all the other stupid bushes obscuring the front of my house. Fricking worst landscaping ever. UPDATE: the bush is out.

Front porch/sunroom thing--I'm thinking tear out walls and screens, be a real front porch

Tuckpointing some brick areas

In addition to all of this, I am firmly committed to a total house purge. I have found myself actually envying my friend whose house burned down last Christmas, in a weird way. They were left with absolutely nothing, which sucks and I would never want that to happen to anyone, for sure. But now she is completely free of stuff. Since I moved here almost a year ago, I have not even touched a large portion of the shit that I moved. That drives me insane--all of this stuff for no reason. I am going to ruthlessly go through every closet, drawer, and shelf and get rid of everything I possibly can. I'm going to apply the fire test--would I take it with me? I'm willing to bet that mostly the answer will be no. And then I'll have the biggest garage sale in the world, because that is fun where I'm from (Whiskey Tango, Minnesota). 

Out of My Way

Guy who really, really wanted to look awesome riding his skateboard to class: It looked to me like you thought long and hard about how when the weather was awesome like Monday, you would totally ride your skateboard to class. This might have been one of those times where your fantasy (you looking like a really jammin skateboard dude) did not match what you envisioned. Because instead of looking cool, you were struggling with your balance and very slowly and deliberately executing nonstylish turns. The backpack obviously threw off your already precarious sense of balance. Thanks, though, for cracking me up. It was worth the pain of watching you suck at skateboarding.

Paula Abdul: Too much boobs lately. They are going to fall out of your dress.

Gym at which I spend almost all of my spare time with my sons: The feet smell was originally funny, because everyone walks in and makes a face like, "What the hell is that smell?" Now it's getting a little out of control, smelling more like a corpse foot than a live one. Not as entertaining, more just gross. 

Awkward people who just want to see the puppy: Hey, it's cool. The puppy is cute and draws attention for sure. It's kind of weird, though, when we run out of the what kind of dog is that conversation and then you just stand there for a while, not sure what to say. Exit stage right, please. 

This Little Piggy

Swine flu. I was going to stay away from it but could not resist any longer. In my current state of extreme stress and general bitterness about life (mainly involving a total loss of flooded basement due to a drain backup, in addition to school ending and finals, with the extra added touch of the puppy shitting mightily on a number of non-shit-resistant items in my home), I am less than thrilled with the reaction to this public health issue. It is fast becoming hysteria. In the face of an actual crisis I very much hope that government agencies, information-disseminating entities, and the general public would act with greater efficiency, but current actions of all would suggest otherwise. I'm all for getting worked up when the situation calls for it, but in this case it clearly does not quite yet. 

My biggest rant with the swine flu, however, has not to do with the public's overlarge reaction but with the shitty racist joke I heard two days ago.  Some potential basement guys were giving me their (wildly overpriced bordering on silly) estimate for cleaning up the mess. I was grilling one of them about his estimate, mostly asking him to justify his 350% bigger than everyone else's price. My obvious unwillingness to be dicked over did not indicate to him that I might not be a receptive audience for a funny racist joke, though, because upon conclusion of our discussion (me, and I quote: "With that ridiculous estimate, I'm going to have to look around. I do not plan to rent big fans for $1200.00. It's not going to happen."), he told me (and again, I do not know why he felt this level of random intimacy with me was appropriate, see above hardassedness about quote) that he had gotten a text about swine flu, snicker, smirk. "I probably don't want to hear about that," I said (Note to self: use of probably is wishy-washy. In the future do not leave room for interpretation).

He then said something about  Some Wetbacks Infecting something something (starting with N and E, of course).  I went all Maya Angelou. "Wow, that's really racist. And since it's mostly American tourists returning from vacation spreading it around, it's not accurate." Guy laughs awkwardly, maybe starting to realize that he did not really know his audience here.  "That's not a great way to get business. We're finished here, thank you."

And then I just sat there for a while and thought about that. I had no idea that this would lead to yet another reason to bash immigrants, Mexicans in particular. It always kind of hits me upside the head afresh every time I hear shit like that, even after many years of being married to an Arab (gasp!), possibly the most hated immigrant group of our time. And who in the hell thinks it is appropriate to tell racist jokes while trying to get someone to pay them large sums of money? That is not good business sense.