Posted by Brad on February 28th, 2009 — Posted in Journal
Friday is a trash-take-out day. On trash-take-out days I scoop Max’s litterbox. When I scoop Max’s litterbox, he immediately jumps in and poops.
This morning, while I was waiting for Max to finish his morning poop, I was standing far away by the utility sink in the basement. I looked down and was startled to see something looking back at me:
It was the rolly, glidey eyeball toy I’ve had since forever! I got it a hundred years ago when I lived in my old apartment on Taylor Avenue. I don’t know where it’s been, but suddenly it was on my basement floor looking up at me. I nudged it a little for old times sake, then scooped Max’s fresh poopings from the litterbox and took the trash out.
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Posted by Brad on February 27th, 2009 — Posted in Gardening
Well, it seems like I was just saying this only a year ago, but my phalaenopsis orchid is blooming again. It’s a little later than last year, but I think that might be because I repotted it.
The reason I repotted it was so it wouldn’t lean. But now the flower spike is making it lean like crazy. Maybe I should just cut the flower spike off. Then the plant would sit nice and straight. Stupid flowers…
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Posted by Brad on February 26th, 2009 — Posted in Journal
I like to have water at my desk at school. Tap water is fine with me, so I usually re-use a bottle over and over again. Gatorade bottles are nice because they have wide openings and are easier to fill at the water fountain.
At the beginning of the year I went to the Gatorade machine at school so I could get a bottle. I kind of like the lemon-lime flavor of Gatorade, so I was looking forward to emptying the bottle. But when I pressed the button, I didn’t get regular lemon-lime Gatorade, I got DIET Gatorade… sweetened with sucralose. Dang! I drank it anyway, and just dealt with the strange, metallic aftertaste.
Since then, I’ve lost my Gatorade bottle three times. Each time, I try a different button that clearly shows regular lemon-lime Gatorade. Each time, I get diet. Grrrr…. Two days ago, I purchased my fourth bottle. I haven’t lost it yet.
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Posted by Brad on February 25th, 2009 — Posted in Journal
Today is Ash Wednesday. As I do every year, I’m requiring the seventh graders to do something during Lent. They have to give something up, or take on something new. They usually do a pretty good job coming up with something challenging. I have four requirements: It must be challenging, it must be measurable, it must be daily, and it must not be unhealthy.
Last year I tried to have daily exercise be my thing for Lent. It didn’t work. I switched to having one raw fruit or vegetable per day. This year, I’m going to try the exercise thing again. I have a few things in my favor: 1) Because of wrestling, I’m used to being busy after school. 2) My perception of time has kicked up a notch again, so time seems to pass more quickly. An hour at the gym doesn’t seem so long. 3) I’ve already started. Monday was my first day.
I’m lifting weights this time. I haven’t done that in years. In the past, I’ve been afraid to start up again because I didn’t know what kind of program to follow. This year I said to myself: “What the heck - doing something is better than nothing.” Here’s hoping I don’t permanently damage myself because of my weightlifting routine.
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Posted by Brad on February 24th, 2009 — Posted in Investigations
Into each life a little spam must fall. Spam comments try to get posted to my site every day. But I’ve been seeing a strange pattern: The ones that make it through the spam filter into “moderation” are almost entirely all targeted at one post. It’s called Crime Scene Investigation. What is it about this post that draws the spambots? I’ve no idea.
I never fully explained the incident. Is this some kind of diversionary tactic by those trying to hide something? Or perhaps some computer-savvy shadow person continues to send the spam to keep this post in the front of my mind. Whatever the case, I continue to delete the spam. Perhaps I should stop. Perhaps there is a message in these comments.
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