Skip to main content

Algebra Is Still Confusing

17 + x = 25

If I had only paid closer attention in Algebra, I'd know what "x" is; and I'd know how many days there are until Christmas.

From what I can tell, it's close. Like breathing down my neck, whispering in my ear in an inappropriate way close.

Given that, our frasier fir, once aromatic when replanted in our living room last week, and is now on the verge of collecting dust like my elliptical, was introduced to the ornaments only a mere hour ago.

I like to think that I'm organized. Like, maybe I'm not organized about myself (e.g. packing a healthy lunch, eating a healthy dinner, regularly working out, hanging up my clothes...well, you get the idea); but at least I'm organized about family stuff. Birthdays stuff. Kid stuff. But not this year.

To be honest, I'm not sure if it's peri-menopause, stress, work, trying to get this blog off the ground or a combination of all of the above, but all of the sudden, Christmas is staring me in the face.

So here's what I'm looking at from now until whatever the value of "x" is:

  1. Grocery shopping. Bonus if I can hit the store on Double Coupon Day.  (12/17) DONE!  Saved $33 too!
  2. Flat ironing Georgia's hair.  This is a big, big job and a big, big deal with her semi-nappy, semi-curly hair.  At any rate, "Party Hair" is a must for Wednesday's Christmas program. (12/19) DONE!
  3. Finalizing the presentation (12/18) DONE! I said I'd do for Tuesday's night-time meeting of wanna-be-big muckety mucks. It'd be good to not embarrass myself on this one.
  4. Getting Georgia's Christmas Program Dress. (12/18) DONE! Can I get a woot-woot?! Refer back to #2.
Did I mention today's after-party-party for Jamie's birthday?  (12/17) DONE!  He's happy, it was fun; and all it took was another birthday cake, fun people and a pizza dinner with pipe organ accompaniment ...and then there's general Christmas shopping.  Whether it all gets done before I figure out 17 + x = 25 remains to be seen.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

What 6 Christmas Songs Got Wrong

After Thanksgiving, a birthday party last week, another birthday party this week and Christmas coming up next week, I am officially overwhelmed. It'd take more time than I have to explain what yet needs to be done and if you're like me, you're probably overwhelmed and don't have the time nor inclination to read it all anyway. But even with an overflowing plate, I still love the Christmas season -- from setting up the Christmas tree that we got two weeks ago and decorated only yesterday, to lighting bayberry scented candles, to every Rankin & Bass Christmas Special, and the music. Oh, the music. Songs have a way of putting you in the Christmas spirit, warming your heart and next thing you know, you're hugging a stranger in the elevator. Okay, um...maybe that's just me. But alas, all songs are not created equal; and the following Christmas songs inspire and awaken anything but peace on earth and goodwill to men. 1. Christmas Shoes : This song makes my

Racism & Prejudice: Brothas from a Different Mother

Next week I’m attending  a seminar on defining racism. Should be interesting because: 1) I’ve been living in the skin I’m in for nearly 43 years and I’d like to hear about any advancements on the topic; and 2) back in college, some class I took defined racism as movement, advancement or otherwise being prevented and/or restricted based upon race .  Embedded in the definition was that racism took two parties – someone in power (the racist) and someone whose rights were being violated. So according to that definition, racism is an action , not an attitude . One is a disabling trespass while the other is prejudice . I tend to agree. It’s my belief that Martin Luther King and the thousands of civil rights fighters stood up against racism . They stood up against actions that prevented people from the pursuit of happiness – whether that meant voting, drinking from a common bubbler, or not ending up as Strange Fruit on a Poplar tree when all they wanted to do was get from P

The Occasional Car

There's nothing special about our neighborhood. No quaint cul de sacs. Just streets that run north to south, sandwiched in between two busy avenues. It's a throwback place -- a hub of post-WWII homes and tree-lined streets whose limbs form a sort of cathedral ceiling. It's a silent night neighborhood . After dark, outside of a few who power-walk dogs begging them to go potty or poop and the occasional car slowly driving north or south, everyone's inside at nighttime. At midnight, Jamie and I were driving that occasional car, returning from a date night while Georgia was at a sleepover. The sky was clear, snowflakes sprinkled past the streetlamps and the streets and sidewalks were empty. Modern Love came on the radio as we began making the slight ascent to our block. We sang along and I knew we'd have to abandon it and our singing by the time we parked. We reached a stop sign at the top of the hill, and Jamie checked for any occasional westbound or eastbo