Remember the Alamo?

It's a mission in Texas wherein was fought an epic battle. Every one died. Well, not every one. The women and children were left alive and allowed to go home. I know this because my family, niece, and brother went to San Antonio last weekend and took a tour.

It also happened to be field trip day. I now begin my diatribe concerning field tripping children. They are beastly. And I have found that all that their chaperones do is watch them climb on exhibits, run down the halls and shove people out of their way. Fifty chaperones means fifty people watching punks in the assigned t-shirt color make everyone else miserable. I almost decided to start pushing back. Diatribe over.

Anyway, from there we walked around the riverwalk. Very exciting.

We decided to make this trip a camping trip and we camped on Mustang Island in Corpus Christi. It was very windy. One of our tents poles snapped causing us to retire that tent. Oh well, it served diligently for almost three years.

The next morning we went and toured a battleship called the "Lexington". It was hot, smelly and awesome. It was even more awesome because my brother, a world war II history fan, shared "nerdy trivia" around every corner. I loved "nerdy trivia".

We swam some, we toured some, we sun burned lots, we came home. I can't wait to do it again.

Oh, one more thing. The second morning of our trip, we took our delicious and nutritious poptart breakfast with us to the beach. Mr. D thought it would be fun to feed the winged rats which only encouraged them to harass us. One particularly bold seagull decided he was not waiting for handouts and snatched an ENTIRE poptart from Eeny's hand. After the initial shock, she burst into tears. I have taunted her with "seagulls stole my poptart!" every day since.

Schooooools out for summa...

Sing with me! Schooooools out for eva. Not exactly. I still have a milllion years before I'm done but at least I have something to do.

My final final last night (that's right, I said final final) was 200 questions. No, they don't make a scantron with two hundred answers. You have to use two scantrons. Anyway, my exam had 200 questions and was comprehensive. Do you know how hard it is to dredge up sixteen weeks worth of information? It's a head compressing event.

Here's how it went down. After I answered question one (correctly, I hope), my thought was "only 199 questions left." After question two, "only 198 questions left", and so on until I completed the test. I can't remember most of what the questions were but I do know that I can count backwards. Little victories, see.

Then there was my Philosophy exam on Monday. I know I got at least two right. I know you're all thinking "Two?!" in a panicky mental voice so calm down. I'm sure I got more right, I just KNOW I got two.

See, question fifty-one only had one answer. Fifty-two also only had one answer but just in case that was too hard, Professor had written just under that "NO MISTAKE-The answer to question 51 and 52 is A." I had to laugh. When I got home I sent an e-mail to Professor, thanking him for the extra points. Then I asked him how many people will miss them anyway. He hasn't answered.

So now, I am free to focus on my next book. And I have several other books to write as well. I'm so excited! On a side note: It's been about four weeks since I sent my manuscript in. I'm hoping to hear back by August at the latest. Wait patiently with me. Uh, wait patiently for me.

If April Showers Bring May Flowers, What Do May Flowers Bring?

Pilgrims.

So it's May and I only have three more exams until classes are over. Fortunately, my kids had a school break this week. How does that work, you ask. Well they're home schooled. I have them on a six weeks on/one week off setup. This has worked out really well. Since they had the week off, I was able to focus more on my studies.

However, home schooled children are just as bad as public schooled children in that they all know the words to the "I'm bored" song and it isn't long before they start to sing it. My oldest started Monday. But she was quickly singing a new tune after I sang the "I'll give you something to do" chorus.

At any rate, this was the week when I could devote more time to study. It also happens to be the week where I ran out of steam. I just can't force myself to do any more. So I worked out a little compromise with myself. I would study for a time, then take a wee break. Sounds like a good plan right? Well, as my mother always said, the path to hell is paved with good intentions.

Now just to be clear, I have an A in all three of my classes and even if I bomb all three of those exams I'll still walk away with B's. Right now B is okay with me, but I studied. On Tuesday and Wednesday.

Monday and Thursday, I looked at my books. Then I spent the day cross-stitching and watching X-Files. Don't judge.

The End Draweth Nigh

but not nigh fast enough.

There are only two weeks left of this semester and I'm having to hunt for motivation to keep going. I was trying to finish reading for my Philosophy class yesterday and it progressed from "for all being kings as much as he" to blah, blah, blah, to I DON'T CARE!!!

To be fair, Philosophy and I have had a tenuous relationship from the start. I think there is some value to philosophy-ing but, like some many things, it has been taken to the extreme. Thus my slow burning disdain for Philosophy has turned into a raging fire of disgust and constipation.

Now, I know I should cowboy up and get it done but... Have you ever found yourself almost to the end of some dreadful experience that you have tried valiantly to soldier through only to find, when you get to the end, that all of your patience is just gone?

For example: You've put in your two week notice and you're counting the days until that two weeks is up, when the office whiner comes to perch on your desk and warble his (or her) complaints. Before you put in your notice, you would have been sympathetic or ignored him (or her) but now that you don't care about office politics, you direct him to shut his pie hole and get his hinder off your work space. That doesn't sound like something you'd do? Well good for you, but it happens to me all the time.

Would you like some cheese with that whine, you ask.

Yes. Yes I would.

Heaven Help Me

Or rather, heaven help her.

The "her" in question is my near eleven year old designated "Eeny". She used to be a pleasant, easy going little girl but, I kid you not, in the last three weeks she has become disagreeable, moody and generally a pain in the aft end.

Now I know what you're thinking, she got her 'tude from me, but that's not it. Okay, that may be part of it but seriously! I'm not ready for this. I know it's too late and I should have been a preparin' afore now but I thought I had time. I'm not ready for buttheads...I mean butting heads.

I'm doomed.

Coming Up Next, Your Local Weather

Expect rain and severe shingle removing wind gusts for the next six days.

It's perfect, really. Perfect for our insurance company. See, they only consider damage caused by each storm. So when we called last Friday to have them come assess the bald spot on the back of the house, they consider that one claim. Therefore, when the front of the roof was scalped yesterday, they told us that we had to open a second claim. So if we continue on this little dance WE will have replaced our entire roof by next month and they don't have to pay for any of it. See how that works boys and girls.

So what have we learned? We don't call in a claim until the roof is gone. Entirely.

First Time its Funny, Second Time its Silly,

Third time deserves a spanking.

I left my school parking permit in Mr. D's car again. That's twice this week.

Here's the dealio. Mr. D's work schedule changed at the beginning of this month. Before that, he made it home just in time for me to hop in the car and head to school, leaving him the children and the van. Now, he gets home at the same time I should be there. That wouldn't be a problem except I have to take the children to a sitter then drive to the school with the child transport vehicle so he has to smoosh our four children into the rubber band driven tin can to get them home from said sitter. I take the tin can on Saturday mornings so he can have the transport which is why the parking tag was in the can and not the van.

So Tuesday, I realized I didn't have the wretched yellow permit about an hour before I had to be at school. It was a debacle trying to get it.

I called Mr. D to tell him I had left the tag in his car and he said "It might be in there, I'm not sure." To which I responded "No. I'm not asking if it is, I'm telling you it is." So he said "I'll meet you at the school before class and we'll trade cars." I agreed to that plan.

However, he still wasn't there at five minutes before class started.

Starting to feel a little frustrated, I went and dropped my things in the classroom to let it be known I WAS there on time. Now, you might ask why being late is a big deal. Well, I'll tell you. It's because I have an intense need to be there on time. The end.

He finally showed up ten minutes after class started. I had to wait outside until he got there because I thought it was less obnoxious than waiting for a text before leaving class in the middle of lecture.

So I'm at home this morning, minding my own business, when Mr.D sends me a text saying I left the tag again.

DANG IT!!!