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Word problems, Red Lobster and Schizophrenics

March 20, 2016

Part 2 – (‘Siderodromophobia’ and Other Word Problem Woes)

Okay, dear reader, I hate to keep you in suspense any longer as to the solution to the word problem I blogged about in my previous blog….

My hubby, David, solved it. I had also sent the problem out to my kids – all grown, via text on their phones. The discussion went like this:

Solve the word problem

“Can you solve this word problem? I
couldn’t. But your dad did. That
second sentence is the foggiest of
any sentence I’ve seen in my 62 1/2 years”

Meredith, our daughter-in-law, answered back within 5 minutes …

“30.333333 for her, 60.333333
for him….?”

Me: “‘A’ for speedy response.
He must have robbed the cradle
for sure..”

Meredith: “Sugar Daddy.
I think my decimals are off tho…
Math gives me question marks.
Oh, duh, 30.5 and 60.5
Wait, no, that’s not it either. I’m
bowing out and leaving it to the scientists”

Me: “I hear you Meredith. I’m into
pulling numbers out of a hat
here and seeing if they fit. Yet,
more inclined to think about this
relationship, why they are
together in the first place and
assuming money is a factor”

Then son, Ben pipes in:

“He is 52 and she is 39.
Pretty simple system of
equations.” (Ben has a Physics degree)

Meredith: “LOL, Jody. I guess we’ll just have
to stick to sparkling narratives”

Ben: “Kind of crazy that they were
born on the same date, and
today is their birthday.” (HUH?)

Meredith: “Maybe that’s what brought them
together … they met at a Red
Lobster where they were both
getting a stupid birthday song
with their all-you-can-eat shrimp.”

Son, Adam (married to Meredith) joins the conversation:

“Nice try, Ben, but it’s a trick
question. He’s actually a
schizophrenic and there is no wife!”

Meredith: “Hahahahaha”
“Oh I love you”

Ben: “LOL”

Okay, so here’s the solution, the set of equations that describe the word problem, per my husband, David, the physicist:

“If you add the age of a man to the age of his wife, the result is 91”

x (his age) + y (her age) = 91

“He is now twice as old as she was when he was as old as she is now” (HUH?)

Okay, since the difference in their ages is a constant, (x-y), when he was her age, y, she was (x-y) years younger.

So mathematically that statement is written as:

x (his age now ) = 2 [y-(x-y)]

To solve:
x = 2(y-x+y)
x = 2(2y-x)
x = 4y-2x
3x = 4y
x = 4y/3

Substitute into the first equation: x+y = 91 (where x = 4y/3)

4y/3 + y = 91
4y + 3y = 273
7y = 273
y= 273 / 7
y = 39

So, …. x + 39 = 91

x = 91-39

x = 52

So he is 52 and she is 39. (Yes, he did rob the cradle.)

And now, somehow, when I think about this problem I can’t get beyond the vision in my head of me at Red Lobster, smelling shrimp, with a bunch of employees around my head singing “Happy Birthday”, surrounded by schizophrenics.

Tags:Algebra word problems, Red Lobster, schizophrenics
Posted in travel, Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

‘Siderodromophobia’ and Other Word Problem Woes

March 8, 2016

I was recently on a 45-minute Delta Airlines flight from Salt Lake City to Idaho Falls. I had finished my book and decided to do the puzzles in the back of Delta’s Sky Magazine. The Sudoku puzzle was just too tiny to mess with. The second puzzle was a word problem:

Solve it before we land!

Yes, surely I can solve it before we land.

I’ve always prided myself, that if I spend enough time with a word problem, break it down, tease out the relevant information, simplify the logic into equations, then I can solve it.

So let me see here…. Uh, his age plus her age equals 91. Okay. Read the problem again. “He’s twice as old as she was when he was as old as she is now.” Huh? “He’s twice as old as she was when he was as old as she is now.” I feel my heart now, beating against my chest. Anxiety? From trains. Remember? Those word problems with trains students try to solve in high school?

Example: Two trains are driving toward one another. The first train leaves Town A at 5am traveling at 60 miles per hour. The second train leaves Town B at 7am traveling at 70 miles per hour. The distance between Town A and Town B is 455 miles. What is the EXACT time the two trains collide head on?

What? They collide? I don’t know! That’s awful. Hope they aren’t passenger trains! OMG! Could exposure to one too many of these train word problems bring on siderodromophobia? Yes, there does exist in humans a fear of trains (siderodromophobia), the single biggest cause of which might be Algebraic word problems.

Here, a similar word problem, involving trains, with a bit of extraneous information, you know, for extra brain exertion:

Three girls shopping for prom dresses board a train and head to the next bigger city 200 miles away where they have a mall second in size to the Mall of America. This first train is going 60 miles per hour. A second train, carrying eight mothers with screaming infants headed to the same mall, leaves the same station 30 minutes later on a parallel track, going 75 miles per hour. How long does it take the second train to catch up to the first train?

Whew. After telepathically signaling to the girls buying prom dresses that the trip really isn’t worth it, you breathe a sigh of relief that at least the two trains are on parallel tracks. Then you wonder how much room in the aisles the diaper bags and strollers are occupying on train # 2, how long before the babies fill their diapers, and whether the passengers on train 2 have thought to bring ear and nose plugs. I dunno. How mathematical is your brain?

Back to the word problem of the day, on my Delta flight. I have 20 minutes to solve it. “His age plus her age equals 91.” x + y = 91. “He is now twice as old as she was when he was as old as she is now.” Say that again? “He is now twice as old as she was when he was as old as she is now.” Huh? Say it out loud. Say it in simpler terms. How? My brain just won’t make any sense of it whatsoever. For those of you who just love this problem, solved it, and you eat this stuff up, here is a link where you will find three more word problems – involving trains and same direction travel, round trip travel and opposite direction travel.

One last practice strategy for solving word problems is to look at the answer and work backwards. Doesn’t work in this case, as far as I can tell, but here – you can have at it:

The answer is: ‘He is 52 and she is 39.’

Yeah, right. Prove it? Is it true, or did those ‘trick’s on you, passenger!’ Sky Magazine puzzle makers just pull those numbers out of a hat?

I don’t know. The plane landed. Safely. Guess that puts things in perspective. Thank you Delta Airlines. I do wish those Sudoku’s in the back of your Sky Magazine were 5 times bigger and, excuse me, but, is that word problem really solvable through any method except trial and error? Is that answer you gave even correct?

In Idaho Falls we do have an airport, but the nearest Amtrak train depot is in Twin Falls, 138 miles away. At least I can rest assured I won’t be involved in any head on train collisions anytime soon.

Please, Delta Airlines, don’t be making up word problems for your Sky Magazine involving same direction travel, round trip travel, and opposite direction travel with airplanes. (Ever heard of ‘aviatophobia’ or fear of flying?)

P.S My husband, David, (a physicist) just announced that he solved the Delta Airlines word problem. What a kill-joy. I guess I’ll have to share his solution now in another blog.

So, never mind. Think I’ll go buy a prom dress or something …

Tags:Algebraic word problems, Delta Airlines Sky Magazine, Siderodromophobia
Posted in travel, Uncategorized | Leave a Comment »

New Roof!

August 8, 2015

Our house was built in 1966 with a fabulous cedar shake shingled roof. I loved the roof. But at 50 years old, it was at the end of its life. Over the past 15 years (since we bought the house) we’ve had to make lots of repairs.

our 1960’s shake roof

David has been up on the roof about every summer dealing with leaks.

Rudy pointing out a leak

We’ve hired roofers to make repairs, we’ve oiled the roof. Shingles blow off, exposing the felt under the shingles, which practically flakes apart. The shingles themselves, about an inch thick, could probably last another half century:

the original 1966 shakes

But the felt under the shingles is shot.

So this summer we replaced the roof. (Ouch!) I so loved the look of our shake roof.

But you can’t buy those shakes anymore. The shakes we could get to replace our roof aren’t nearly the quality they were in 1966. We’ve heard some bad reviews, like they curl after a couple of years and within five years you are already making repairs. So we decided to go with asphalt shingles.

We did lots of research, looked at roofs all over town, and found an asphalt shingle that has a 3-dimensional look: ‘Grand Canyon’ in Black Walnut. The roofing company, Wright Roofing, had us in their queue by early May, and would give us a few days notice that they were coming. I was dreading the call.

The call came Friday, July 24. They would be here the following week. I had this long convoluted nightmare Sunday night that the new roof looked hideous, it completely clashed with our brick and shutters; we’d have to completely change the colors of the house to go with the new roof. Awful.

Tuesday, July 28, about 6:45 AM, we hear voices. I raise up from my sleep and peer out the window. Roofers!

Roofer invasion

Soon they’re lined up on top of our roof like carpenter ants, ripping off shingles.

They flung the bulk of the shingles into their massive trucks parked alongside the house. Shingles were also flying onto tarps in front of the house.

yes, it’s a mess

The crew is back on the house at 6:45 am Wednesday morning.

6:45 AM! Rise and shine..

Needless to say, we’re up too. What are they doing? It sounded like 500-pound boulders with protruding nails being dragged across the roof, right next to our heads.

The foreman said it was the dirtiest roof they had ever done in the 40-plus years they’d been in business.

Huge messes accumulated by the end of the day…

By the end of the second day, the roof was stripped and prepped for the new shingles, with a new layer of plywood over the existing roof.

Thursday morning now – The shingles have arrived!

Here comes the shingles!

Each bundle of shingles weighs 60 pounds. They must have unloaded 90 bundles from the conveyer belt along the top of the roof.

Pulling the belt back down now…

Roofers are exhausted!

Soon they get busy. Part of the crew on each section of the house. The pattern is taking shape!

view from across the street

I’m happy to be the observer.

This is how I imagine it feels on the roof!

Whoa!

I’m loving the three dimensional look of our new roof:

Roofers laying shingles on the back side:

Rudy steps in to help

“Hey, I can hammer!”

Hammering the last shingle now…

Blowing debris off the finished roof

Final cleanup begins

Rudy dashes in to assist

Rounds up the rest of the crew to pitch in

Boy the roof looks great

Rudy dismisses the crew. Job well done!

A couple of days later, we notice burn spots in the the grass left by sun-baked asphalt shingles…

Rudy assesses the damage

That jack-o’-lantern face on our front lawn creeps us out when we glance at it from our upstairs bedroom window

Hope it’s gone by Halloween

But the house looks great.

“The roof’s a keeper!” I allow.

“Well, I should hope so!”

(Yeah, like we could change our minds, rip it back off and start over.)

Tags:cedar shakes, Grand Canyon Asphalt shingles, Wright Roofing
Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

Childhood Easter Accoutrements and Other Stuff

April 22, 2014

Easter has come and gone but not without my recalling memories from childhood of my family dressing up for church on Easter Sunday. It was no small feat with a family of eight children – 4 boys and 4 girls. I was nestled smack dab in the middle of the 4 boys – so my parents had 2 girls, 2 boys, then me, then 2 boys, then the youngest was a girl. It’s an ordeal just describing the number of kids, gender birth order, etc. well, just imagine the ordeal of getting us all ready for Easter Sunday Church Service. Of course, we were never on time, and so that was also a huge ordeal – the ten of us blowing in the doors with the Service in full session, cramming ourselves into already crowded pews. We were never on time to church, period, per my recollection, save the one Sunday morning that both my dad and my older sister, Steph, unbeknownst to each other, set the kitchen clock forward 10 minutes. That Sunday we arrived to service right on the button, and it seemed a miracle (who says miracles don’t happen in church?).

So this past Sunday I was amused to find our paper delivery man had slept in – like, by four hours to my calculation, since our Sunday paper didn’t arrive till 11 AM. I guess that’s what triggered my childhood memories of Easter. Lateness. Anyway, I emailed my sister Steph, wishing her a Happy Easter, and reminisced about our large family trying to pull off church with the girls in their stiff white hats with the brims piled high with pink and yellow silk flowers, white gloves, and the weather was usually terrible – so our hats would blow off our heads and halfway across the lawn as soon as we stepped out the front door. Steph replied back, “Mom always took so seriously getting us our accoutrements for Easter. I remember how much I loved that little ‘muff’ – that fluffy white contraption you could tuck your hands into to keep warm.”

The muff!

I remember that ‘muff’. It was a white tube, maybe 12″ long, 7″ wide, made of fake rabbit fur. Lined with satin. You stick your hands into each end where they can nestle in and keep warm. I wore it on Easter one year and it must have been a hand-me-down from Susie and Steph – because I can’t imagine (1) mom buying two muffs and (2) any girl wearing a muff more than once. You shove your hands into the muff which renders your hands completely useless – you’re now a double-hand amputee – I can’t imagine even wearing the muff in the car, are you kidding? While sitting next to your brothers? You need your hands to defend yourself. What, do you bop your brothers over the head with the muff when they start picking on you? Then they grab the muff and play keep-away, tossing it over your head in the back seat, you madly groping the air trying to get it back. I must have worn it on my forearm, actually – what a pain-in-the butt accoutrement. Yeah, you don your hat and muff and walk out the front door – your hat blows off – so what do you do with the muff when you shed it to chase after your hat, whilst trying to keep from getting your patent leather shoes all muddied too?

Even ‘Barbie’ had a muff as a fashion accessory. I Googled it just in case your’re skeptical – here is the link -(Hey, maybe I’d like to buy a muff for Barbie, you know, if I still had one …) My Barbies from childhood had zits, boobs punctured with needles, bitten off toes, singed hair, and were usually found naked, compliments of my brothers. If any of my Barbies had a muff it was probably last seen wrapped around one of the kitchen knives. Or maybe affixed over the end of the dog’s tail. One of my friend’s Barbie’s had a muff, for sure. I distinctly remember it. Except I don’t know how you would play with a Barbie wearing a muff. You shove the muff up on her forearm, bind her hands together, then slide it back over her bound hands. Then you jump her up and down in her stilletos, stiff-legged since her legs don’t bend. What else would you do with her? Move her around so her pony tail flies up and down. You certainly wouldn’t put her behind the wheel of her new Ferrari.

Well, since anyone under the age of 55 will not likely associate the word “muff” with a female fashion accoutrement that hails from the early sixties (specifically worn at Easter) and the Victorian era of history – I will clarify the term using the dictionary – which gives you four definitions: (1) (noun)- “A warm tubular covering for the hands” (2) (noun)- (Sports) “Dropping the ball” (3) (verb) – “fail to catch, as of a ball” (4) (verb) – “make a mess of, destroy, or ruin”.

Well, then if you Google ‘muff’ you will find a fifth definition that arose from “That 70’s Show” – Apparently, ‘muff’ has became slang for ‘vagina.’ That figures. And I suppose anyone reading this who is under the age of 50 (and every male over the age of 10?) already knows this.

“Muff.” Well, it does have a colorful history. For me, anyway.

Tags:Easter Dress, Muffs, Vintage Barbie Accessories
Posted in Holidays, Uncategorized, Women's health | 2 Comments »

Make Way For … Duck Blog2!

June 12, 2013

Of course I would write it. You were wondering, weren’t you, about how things would play out with that wild duck nesting in our back yard … Well,

At first I ran the back sprinklers a lot. It got hot here and I thought any nesting duck would appreciate a cool mist.

But then I read online that mother ducks have to wet their feathers – to maintain a certain level of humidity for the developing eggs.

So I went out and bought a kiddie pool.

Slid it in only a few feet away from the nest and filled it up with water.

If you look really closely you will see her gray round head (looks like a smooth, gray rock) poking out about half way between the short and long swatches of sunlight on the left side of the picture.

There you see the pool, under the spruce tree, from a distance.

Now the mama duck could step off her nest, take a few hops for a quick dip and then hop back to her nest. It’s a tough job, sitting on those eggs, and I could help her here.

I then called the local animal shelter because I had heard they had a bird expert on staff. I talked to the receptionist.

“We have this wild duck nesting in our back yard under our spruce tree. Don’t you have an expert there who can tell me how I can help her?’

“No. He’s not in right now, but I can help you.”

“Yeah? What should I do?”

“Leave her alone.”

“Oh.”

(I really didn’t have too many heads working on this duck problem since David was out of town for several days – uh, now you know about the pool, honey.)

So, as not to look completely stupid (to the duck if no-one else) and not create a breeding ground for mosquitos, I got rid of the pool … as quietly as I could – (by rigourously splashing the water out of it with my hand and thrashing the pool around to where it was finally empty enough to drag it out of there.) I gave the pool to a friend with small children.

I checked on the duck every evening.

She is very well camouflaged, but if you look carefully under the lower extending limb you can see her.

Along about 7 PM the sun was far enough west that she could bask in it.

I’d see her head, poking out of the nest, illuminated with sunshine. But I couldn’t capture it in a photo.

I planted flowers.

Rudy was invariably out in the yard with me. I’d keep an eye on him. He’d be this normal flopped-out-hanging-with-the-pack dog, then suddenly morph into a bird-dog

Pointing right at the duck.

“NO, RUDY!!” “COME!!” “TREAT!!”

I had bought him special new ‘Stay away from the duck” treats.

Crunchy with Real Pomegranate! YUM!

“EAT IT, RUDY. No, you’re not getting Bacon Cheese Beggin’ Strips!”

Well, Rudy flushed the duck out one morning last week. Right in front of my nose. She flew up over the house and I corralled him into the house, scolding him profusely. The duck landed right back in our yard, looked in all directions, then hop, hop, hopped (she ran, really) back to her nest. Whew!

I’ve spent a lot of time in discussions with Rudy as to why he doesn’t need to go out.

We’ve been eating dinner on the back deck with the duck nesting in the background.

David, Glen, Megan, me, and Rudy.

I told my neighbors across the street, Marion and Armand, about the duck and how I expected the eggs to hatch around June 26.

I checked on the duck last night. Ran the back sprinklers just for her, because the temperature topped 90 degrees yesterday.

I was out deadheading flowers this morning. Left with Megan about noon to run some errands. Pulled back into the driveway a little after 2PM. We weren’t in the house 1 minute when my cell phone rang. It was Marion from across the street.

“Jody, quick!” Your duck was just in our yard with her ducklings!”

WHAT??

“Armand is following her and taking pictures!”

I dashed out the front door. The duck and her 5 ducklings had already reached the house on the corner of our street – I snapped a photo quick as I could –

Not the best photo you’ve ever seen of a mother duck and her ducklings, but before I took another photo I thought, “Megan can’t miss this!” and ran home and got Megan. We ran back to where I had left the ducks maybe 90 seconds before and now there was no sign of them. We ran further – looked all around. No sign of her and her ducklings. Armand had gone home. WHAT? Was that it? Was that really OUR duck?

I ran back to the nest.

Sure enough. The babies had hatched all right. And to think when they hatched I was going to be sure and open our gate to let them through!

Well, that mama duck and her babies were at least headed in the right direction – toward a canal just two blocks west of us. Of course, they have to cross a busy street. (Make Way ….!!!)

I feel a little sad that she’s gone. But at least I can freely let the dog out now. I don’t mind a bit his chasing the squirrels.

Tags:nesting duck in your back yard
Posted in Empty Nest, Spring, Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

Duck Spring

June 3, 2013

Spring! It seems that everything bloomed at once here. It warmed up at the beginning of May and everything popped. I’ve missed it some years. This year I buried my face in the lilac blossoms

to inhale their fragrance.

I took photos of the snowballs in spring.

and the towers of flowers

perched on their branches like Christmas trees.

The flowering crab in the center of our back yard

is maybe not as showy as some of the other trees in town.

Here is a photo of our front lawn.

Grows fast this time of year. If you look very closely you can probably see it growing in this picture.

David is having to mow it about every five days. ‘Tis the season, honey!

For the last few summers he’s been hauling the grass clippings to the back yard and dumping them under the spruce tree by our storage shed.

Spring flies by so quickly. Early on we had ducks flopping out in our front yard. We found it amusing – pairs of ducks waddling around the neighborhood – napping in front yards. Our dog, Rudy couldn’t abide the ducks. He’d bark at them through the front windows and run them off.

A pair of ducks started frolicking in our back yard. We were amused. We’d let Rudy out, and he’d tear after them as if protecting us from an armed invasion.

Then one day I was out planting flowers and noticed him behaving very un-poodle like. Poodles see a squirrel or some other movement in the yard and they tear after it without hesitation, barking like maniacs. They are not your quintessential hunting dog. But this particular day Rudy pointed toward the back spruce tree, froze into a hunting-dog pose, lifted his right front leg, took a step forward, posed, lifted his left front leg, nudged his nose forward, then … CHARGE!! he went after whatever it was under the spruce tree to flush it out.

“FLAP, FLAP, FLAP” out flew a female duck with Rudy on her tail. I thought the duck would collide with the house trying to escape, but she soared up over the roof. We laughed.

I really wasn’t paying much attention, but did notice that that duck was hanging around. One day I noticed her sitting in the yard maybe 10 feet away from me as I was pulling weeds.

Meanwhile, Rudy got into this ‘patrolling the backyard’ mode. It would start in the den, where I was relaxing.

“Okay! You have my attention, Rudy!”

He wanted out.

Scoping out the yard now…

He runs to the east fence and barks at the neighbors, just in case there’s any kids around. I have just called to him to get him to stop barking:

He’s at the gate now…

you know, scoping out the action on the street.

Now he turns his attention to the spruce tree, strikes his hunting-dog pose, and …. CHARGE!!!

“FLAP, FLAP, FLAP”…out flies the duck from under the spruce tree.

Huh? Surely, she couldn’t be nesting back there?

OMG!

She is well-camouflaged – hard to see her but …. she’s there

Here you get a little closer view of her – her cute little tail is curled up out of her “nest” (which is, basically, a hole she scratched out of the middle of a pile of grass clippings).

I couldn’t get to sleep that night for thinking about the fate of that poor mama duck and her babies. Why did she make a nest on the ground in a suburban fenced yard with a dog? How could she possibly keep that nest safe for her ducklings to hatch – what with the crows, blue jays, robins and squirrels, AND DOG lurking about. If those ducklings do hatch, how are they going to make it safely to water from our back yard?

On Friday I went back out there. The duck was gone.

Oh, look!

Something got to the nest already! These broken eggs were out in the yard maybe 15 feet from the nest. Oh, how sad. Oh well, thank goodness. It’s a relief, really. The whole scenario was doomed from the start.

Whew! On with our lives. I’m planting flowers. Rudy is patrolling the yard.

Then he does it again. He charges under the spruce tree.

“FLAP, FLAP, FLAP” Out she flies.

You’re kidding!!! She has more eggs! She is still there, sitting on her nest.

Now it’s Monday. Rudy still patrols the yard, but I watch him and every time he pauses and strikes a pose toward the spruce tree I call him – and award him with a treat for coming. This morning he walked near the nest, peered over at it, I called him and he left it alone. Good dog!

How is this going to play out?

I am going to try and help that nesting mama duck under our spruce tree in the back yard.

Leave her be as much as possible for the 28 days her eggs will be incubating.

The only predictable outcome is that Rudy will surely grow fatter from all the treats he’s getting for coming when I call him away from the duck. If we do see this thing through and those babies hatch out there’s no telling how Rudy will react to a chirping tiny yellow duck invasion.

Uh, did I also mention our neighbors have cats?

Tags:Duck nesting in back yard
Posted in pets, Spring, Uncategorized | 5 Comments »

Being Mitt Romney

May 30, 2012

Over the past four years I have received in my email a steady dose of forwarded messages containing anti-Obama propaganda – Undoubtedly you’ve heard it all too: “Obama hates whites.” “Obama is a socialist.” “Obama is a Muslim.” “Obama caused the current economic crisis.” “Obama Care has death panels.” “Obama is not patriotic.” “Obama was not born in America.” etc etc Blah, blah blah blah.

Well, I have a little poem I’d like to post – written by my brother, who is a very hard working local business owner. His business has been in operation for almost forty years, but he has never worked so hard as now, during the recent economic downturn, to keep his business afloat, letting workers go, taking more and more on his own back, while other numerous local businesses go under.

Alas, in his frustration he penned this poem:

Being Mitt Romney

I’d like to be Mitt Romney
Where every day is sunny
And it’s never stormy
Where the streets I walk upon
Are paved with gold

And Joseph Smith
Is watching over my soul
Where flower petals
Are falling at my feet
And everything is just so gosh darned neat

Yes, I’d like to be Mitt Romney
I’m thinking about making
Another acquisition
But let me first firmly
State my position

I’d like to be your President
But I’m keeping my cards
Close to my chest
What I’ll really do
Is anybody’s guess

Just don’t be thinking
About where
All the money was spent
When the American dream
Has come and went

I’ll just be sitting back
Thanking God
That I’m
Such a
Big Fat Cat

It’s good to be Mitt Romney
Yes it’s good to be Mitt Romney

Getting ready
To do another
Hostile Takeover
To cover the costs of my
Ocean beach front home makeover

Don’t want no government regulator
Checking out my car elevator
But I would like another tax cut
To add to the padding
That’s behind my butt.

Nothing like a big fat billfold
To keep you warm
When it’s Oh So Cold.
But it’s never cold in the Cayman Islands
That’s where I’m always smiling

Thinking about all
Those obscene amounts
Sitting there
In my
Offshore bank accounts

Oh it’s good to be Mitt Romney
Yes it’s great to be Mitt Romney

Chorus:
I Want to Be Mitt Romney
And have piles and piles of money

Instead of posting a link to depressing article(s) (okay I will) about the filthy rich top 1 percent and how the top-1-percent-control-42-percent-of-financial-wealth-in-the-us-how-average-americans-are-lured-into-debt-servitude-by-promises-of-mega-wealth), and how the poor keep getting poorer, the middle class is disappearing, etc. I would like to post a more uplifting article that recently appeared in the New York Times that highlights a few of President Obama’s accomplishments over the past four years:

friedman-president-obama-should-seize-the-high-ground.html?_r=1&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss

It’s nice to read an article giving President Obama at least some recognition for his many accomplishments as President.

Tags:anti-Mitt Romney propaganda, President Obama, the top one per cent
Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

From Vegas to Pot Holes

March 7, 2011

February’s gone and I don’t know where it went.

Although, my husband and I made a whirlwind trip to Vegas over Valentine’s weekend. That, I remember. Plus, I have photos from the trip on my i-Phone. I blogged about it in February. You didn’t see the blog? Huh. That might be because I didn’t actually write the blog. I just thought about what I would write if I happened to write it, which, it ended up, I didn’t. I’m blaming it on February.

But hey, it’s March! Why not share it now? I can spare you, o’ dearest reader, the travel, time, and stress, but mostly the beaucoup bucks it takes to spend a few days in Vegas yourself. Are you ready?…

We are there now, looking over Las Vegas Boulevard near the south end of the strip, crossing an elevated walkway

toward the ‘New York, New York’ Motel/Casino.

Home of the Statue of Liberty ‘Las Vegas”. We enter the casino and beyond, into the neighborhood streets of Manhattan, with its low-lying streetlamps, Irish pubs and deli’s. And expensive shops. And the erotic Zumanity show.

Back outside, heading north on Las Vegas Boulevard, we arrive at the newer ‘Cosmopolitan’. The interior is dripping with crystal lighting and shimmering liquid ceiling treatments that flow out from a 2-story crystal chandelier:

Nice place to pass through. Or check in, if, perchance, you are attending an all-expenses-paid conference or something.

Vegas is all abuzz in celebration over the Chinese New Year –

February 4, 2011 begins the Year of the Rabbit!

In Vegas’s case, GIANT Rabbits

Excessively large rabbits

Huge fuzzy organic rabbits – adorn the indoor conservatory at the Bellagio.

Vegas goes green!

But, hey. What are we doing looking at rabbits when we could be shopping!

Might as well check out the shops in the Bellagio while we’re here.

On someone else’s dime, obviously. Since these shops cater to, say, about 1 percent of the world’s population, economically speaking.

Maybe you’re independently extremely wealthy or find yourself sauntering by these shops on the arm of a filthy rich mama or sugar daddy who’s just itching to buy you something.

Looking for shoes?

Behold the mighty stiletto. Huh? What the … Whatever happened to Women’s Lib? Women burned their bras in the late seventies because, uh, bras could be a little snug in the front at times, or a tad itchy under the armpit, or something, and women back then flat out refused to put up with such physical bondage and abuse! So they threw off their bras and burned them in protest. Remember?? And the modern ‘savvy’ woman has been duped into wearing stilettos???

What the @#&$ happened?

Pink sport coats for men. A wardrobe staple.

Van Cleef and Arpels?

How about we shop for a $600,000.00 watch or maybe some new winter diamonds to wear until spring.

If I happen to have an extra half-million bucks sitting around – I might just venture in there. Let’s see. Let me check my pockets one more time…

We tromp back up the strip past Caesar’s Palace

to the Palazzo, where we are staying the three nights we are here.

Entering the lobby now. (Feeling a tad under-dressed, Jody? Yes, I was.)

We wander over to the Venetian which is connected to the Palazzo.

We ascend to the top floor and, uh, suddenly we’re in Venice in early evening under partly cloudy skies. Anyone up for a gondola ride?

Ah, but we’ve caught our fligt back to Idaho now. I captured the Vegas strip from the air.

Within an hour we are flying over the mountains in south central Idaho. The Pioneer Range, maybe?

We are descending now, over the farms just west of Idaho Falls. Coming in for a landing…

Yeah, we’ve been back home a few weeks now-

We’re still getting snow, but we’ve had rain too. The temperatures are gradually rising and the snow pack is melting

into puddles large enough to swallow trees.

March skies are mostly dreary

And filthy snow

litters the street sides.

The chaos of early spring

aggregates in corners, open fields, and parking lots.

Abstracts abound

to inspire dreamers and painters.

Be careful of the gaping pot holes

Or is it a black hole?

Exposed piles of rotting leaves, pot holes, filthy black snow … the first hopeful signs of spring!

Yeah, well, not so fast. I’m not running out in the garden looking for crocus. Spring in southeast Idaho ain’t here yet. Not even close.

I stepped out our front door this morning, and snapped this photo:

March sure looks an awful lot like February.

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Fall’s Last Gorgeous Hurrah!

November 15, 2010

Fall was absolutely stunning this year. I tried to savor it – took a lot of photos with my iphone, mostly on our walks through Tautphaus Park.

Where some of the trees are a century old.

And giant Maples abound!

This year the colors were incredible.

I kept taking photos through late October, thinking, Oh, now, this is it! This is the peak! The snow is coming! Maybe next week! But sixty degree temps prevailed throughout October.

I snapped a photo of our plum tree out our kitchen window on Oct 23.

And our back yard on October 28.

Halloween is coming!

Our black cat, Tee-Box even posed for this picture.

On Friday, October 29, Megan was a witch by day

and ‘Lady Gaga’ for her party in the evening.

On Halloween I snapped another photo of our old plum tree out front through our kitchen window.

It’s knarly looking, with half its leaves gone. There’s our vibrant Canadian Maple standing in contrast in the front yard.

The weather stayed nice. Really nice. David and I hiked Rainy Creek on Thursday, November 4th. It was 65 degrees, a near record high.

The sky was a crystalline cloudless blue.

Ah, but the weather was changing. We knew it. Storms were moving in, but we had one last weekend of warm weather to enjoy. On Sunday, Nov. 7, we enjoyed one more balmy walk through Tautphaus.

The trees were as stunning as ever.

On Sunday, Nov 7, I took what I knew was the last photo of the flowers blooming in our back yard.

The wind was already howling before we went to bed on Sunday night, Nov. 7. And the next morning we woke up to … uh … well, suffice it to say that as you entered about any hardware or dept store on Monday you were met straight away with a stack of shiny new snow shovels. Luckily we have a large snow scoop, which David is very adept with. He shoveled Monday evening, Nov. 8, and I stepped out the front door and captured a picture.

The light wet snow continued throughout the night and we woke up Tuesday to a winter wonderland, with scenes you’d find on Christmas Cards.

Snow was clinging to every accessible tree branch

and piled up an inch high on even the tiniest branches.

Here we are taking our down-right-invigorating walk at noon on Tuesday. A stark and bitter contrast to our walk in Tautphaus, just two days before!

Some trees seemed more jolted by the snow, and unprepared, than we were.

And unwilling to give up the orange. Although admittedly, that tree clinging to its orange glory faces some stiff competition for beauty next to it’s shimmering flocked neighbor.

And here’s our knarly old plum tree again – on Nov. 10.

Yeah, well, it’s the weekend again now – a week after those last balmy walks through Tautphaus. The trees in our yard are stark naked, the flowers all froze. Here’s a picture of our back yard.

Care to sit down?

Yeah, well, me neither. I took this photo of our deck furniture from inside the house. I suppose the snow has receded enough so as to run me out of excuses as to why I can’t rake.

Turning again to our front yard, here’s a picture of that stunning Canadian Maple.

Well, it was a stunning gold up to about three days ago, when the leaves dropped off en masse.

A stark naked May tree adorns the west side of our front lawn.

Okay, so we’ve got some serious raking to do.

Get out there, quick! Rake like maniacs!

Yeah, before Old Man Winter returns with a vengeance.

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“Go Dawgs!”

October 9, 2010

Last Saturday, October 2, we were in Boulder, Colorado, at the college football game between the Colorado Buffaloes (the ‘Buffs’) and the Georgia Bulldogs (“GO DAWGS!”). Our son, Aaron, a UGA Alumnus, had purchased 8 tickets to the game, and our family (plus a couple of friends) met in Boulder for a four-day vacation centered around this game. The Dawgs were favored to win and we were psyched! Aaron had warned us all a full week ahead to wear Georgia RED or WHITE attire to the game, because, although Black is a UGA color, the Buffs were having a ‘Blackout’ – their fans would be decked out in black gear (or gold).

Not to worry. GEORGIA fans were descending on Folsom Field like fire ants, filling the stands…

Meanwhile “Ralphie,” the mascot for the Buffaloes, waits in her pen (barely discernable in the buzz of activity in the front right corner of the field). To set off the game she will be set loose, ushered by a group of strapping young cowboys, to run along the perimeter of the field. (Hopefully, well, that’s the plan, anyway.) (See the link here, to learn more about Ralphie, who is, by the way, always a female bison. Yeah, like, what male would put up with that kind of abuse with even the slightest measure of compliance?)

We take our seats and watch as the fans keep filing in.

“GO DAWGS!”

Oh! There goes Ralphie down the sidelines! …

It happens so quickly – she is out, she is running, she is … at the far end of the field, running down the other side now … gone! In about 20 seconds. The crowd is in a complete roar now … time for the kickoff …

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH….OOO! OOO! OOO! OOO! OOO! OOO! OOO! OOO! OOO!” scream the GA fans, pounding the air with their fists. KICK OFF!

Well, from here, I try to keep my eye on the ball and my mindset into following the game. I’m not a seasoned football fan. Colorado scores the first touchdown. But before the first quarter is over, the Bulldogs score a field goal. It’s 7-3 (Buffs) going into second quarter … where Georgia lets loose with two touchdowns to Colorado’s one. At half-time the score is 17-14, – Georgia! –“GO DAWGS!” Georgia Fans are pumped! Some of our group heads to concessions for food, some stay and watch the half-time show featuring the CU Marching Band…

Georgia is entering the field for the second half!

“GO DAWGS”!

Here we are in the stands.

Georgia scores again!

GO DAWGS!!!

Here we are again!

What a great game! Note the, uh, untethered enthusiam maybe? in David’s expression …

Okay, I admit, we’re all just a little nervous here, too, because, uh, the Buffs have also been scoring. (Why would I photograph THAT?) Like, 15 points in the third quarter to Georgia’s 7. Going into the 4th quarter the score is Bulldogs – 24, Buffaloes – 29.

During the fourth quarter Georgia makes a field goal. Then, Colorado misses their field goal attempt! Score 27-29.

OKAY! Georgia is heading down the field for their final drive, trailing by 2 points, with 3:37 minutes left in the game! They are within field goal range -on the 27 yard line! They’ve got time, they’ve got the downs – they are going to make the field goal and win!!

You can read all about it in this CBS Sports News link to glean more details here.

Bulldogs run the ball. Bulldogs … fumble the ball. BULLDOGS FUMBLE THE BALL? Colorado jumps on it to capture the turnover. We stand there frozen as we watch Colorado run the clock out. First down, second down, third down, game over. GAME OVER??

We stand there stunned while Colorado fans break through the sidelines and storm the field. A mass exodus upward and out from the stands ensues. I feel a tug at my sleeve and pressure against my body to move! “Go!” Exit!” as I attempt to shoot a photo with my iphone of the scene on the field.

I try again:

But the crush and frenzy of the situation is too much – I just can’t steady my hand to take a decent photo. Or is it my nerves? My devastation? Too Bad! AARGH!

Well it was just a football game. The Bulldogs lost. In fact, this game marks the first time the Bulldogs have lost four games in a row in twenty years.

But they do play again this Saturday … And it’s only October.

Oh, and come to find out David caught the photo on his iphone that I was trying to capture:

The absolute mayhem on the field.

Our son Aaron, the UGA Alumnus who got us all tickets to the game to begin with, sent me this link – to a great commentary about how storming Folsom Field cheapens the CU Buffs’ win, which, I bet, is how many of the Georgia fans feel about it, too.

You know, I just thought I’d throw that last link in there to provide additional commentary for all of you avid sports fans who can’t stop thinking about, reading about, talking about, watching, interpreting, and attending college football games.

‘GO DAWGS!’ Actually, if I were a serious college football fan, I’d probably be rooting for the University of Idaho Vandals.

That is, if I thought my heart and nervous system could take it.

Tags:CU Buffs, CU vs. UGA Football, Ralphie
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The Decompression of a Boomer