Just who are you people?

There is just something a tad creepy about blogging.  I was shamed into starting a blog when everyone around me was appalled I was so unenlightened.  I thought of a few witty things to ramble on about and some friends “pimped my blog” until I amassed an average readership of 31 a day.  On 6/26/08 a record 185 people dropped in for a little virtual visit.  Nothing says friendship like a little pimping.  Thanks guys for helping me make it to the big time!

Then came my leave of absence.  Life got busy and blogging takes time.  A good blog can take over an hour to produce with editing, potty breaks, and blurry vision from rubbing your eyes after forgetting you’re wearing makeup.  I just couldn’t bring myself to blog about what I’m having for dinner or why I seem to be the only one with the manual dexterity to install a roll of toilet paper in the dispenser.  Well, I might be able to bring myself to blog about that one.  Give it time.  After getting out of the habit, days passed then months and my blog grew a few cobwebs.  Yet, I still had a loyal following.  It seems at least five people a day visited my blog during those dark months.  Given one was my mother but that still leaves four people who faithfully looked every day to see if I had returned to the blogosphere.

Now that I’m back and have committed to being a weekend blogger (I figure I can be witty at least twice a week), my stats are going up again.  I’m up to a solid 16 visits a day!  Now this may not seem like a huge accomplishment considering some of my favorite bloggers have hundreds of visits a day but I’m pretty pleased.  After all, these are 16 people who are voluntarily wanting to know what I’m thinking.  I’m a teacher.  I’m used to spending my days with 58 people who do everything in their power to ignore what I’m saying!

Lately I’ve been rather fascinated by the “referrers” list.  This is a list of other blogs that have posted links to your site and people have then clicked on them to find you.  Oddly enough, not one of the referrers has been my mother’s blog which led me to wonder, “Who are these other bloggers who have linked to me?”  This past week I’ve been clicking on them to visit their blogs (you may thank me for raising your stats by sending chocolate).  I’ve found a grain of something in common with most of them but then there are the mysteries. 

So, just who the heck are you people?  The only one who ever comments on my blog is my mother.  You’d think if others were such fans that they would put a link to me on their blog they’d at least comment with a smiley face.  See, a little creepy.  So let’s play a little game.  We’ll call it “Fans and Stalkers”.  If you’ve read this post, leave a little note.  Hey, I figure if you can spend hours a day farming on Facebook you have the time to respond to my blog!   Maybe introduce yourself, tell the world how you got here (here to the blog, we already know about the sperm and egg thing).  I’ll keep track of how many visitors I have over the next week and how many comments are left.  Then we’ll see how many fans I have and how many stalkers.  Don’t you just love a social experiment?  Ready, set, GO!

www.braindebris.wordpress.com

Stupid human tricks

In my last post, I wondered who would be stupid enough to program lighted reindeer to blink on and off.  Well, it seems that would be me!  As my darling husband is standing in the doorway watching the deer help the planes come in for a landing, he was amazed that we managed to get both deer to blink on and off at the exact same moment.   Then it occurred to him that I had plugged them into a dawn to dusk timer and every time the deer lit up, the timer said, “Bright light Bright light!”, and shut off.  At which point the timer then said, “Too dark, too dark!”, and turned on.  Ready, one…two…three….DUH!  You will be pleased to know that the problem has now been solved.  I laid the timer on its side

www.braindebris.wordpress.com

Deer on, Deer off, The Clapper

Today my darling husband and wonderful youngest decorated the outside of the house for the holidays.  In their infinite wisdom, they chose a day that was nice enough that they wouldn’t freeze or sled off the roof on their keesters.  Despite all of the butt crackage, the two of them rose to the challenge like super elves.  Darling husband replaced all the old lights on the big wreath with sparkly new LEDs.

Youngest son not only strung lights  ……

 

he asked if he could clean gutters while he was up there!  Do I have cool kids or what!

Together we strung all of the lights and staked down all of the tacky decorations.  Darling husband decided against putting up the blow-up “Santa driving Jimmy Johnson’s Nascar” in leiu of the train and reindeer he acquired last year.  Poor Santa Jimmy.   Yeah me.  I won’t have to go outside and shake the snow off the thing for the next month!  We even got most of the wreaths hung on the windows.  It seems we lose the hangers every stinkin year which explains why at least one of the wreaths is hanging from a flower box!  When I die, my children will find 2000 wreath hangers laughing their hooks off behind a box somewhere. 

So tonight when the dawn to dusk timers kicked on, I excitedly ran outside to see what the house looked like.  Hmmmmm, dark deer.  Electrical cord malfunction?  Timer not working?

PEEK A BOO! 

Yes folks, we not only have the brightest deer in the county, we have the only two blinking deer in the county!  AND, they blink together.  Now you see them, now you don’t!  Just who thought this was a good idea?  I could understand if they twinkled but exactly what’s the point of deer that flash like runway lights?  Have I mentioned we live in the flight path of the airport?  I expect a plane to land on my roof at any moment. 

It looks like Christmas lights take 2 will be held tomorrow!

www.braindebris.wordpress.com

Ebay Cojones

Included on my long list of grading-avoidance activities, is lurking on Ebay.  I search for fond memories of my childhood, the latest and greatest knitting supplies (because one stick or ball of string is NOT just like all the others!), or that gift for someone I’d never be able to afford any other way.  But there are some days my lurking habit leans further to the dark side.  These are the days when I look for items to include in my own personal “I can’t believe you were brave enough to list that” hall of fame.

For your vote, here is today’s entry.  Isn’t it FABULOUS!  Doesn’t it scream “San Fransisco in the fall”?  The gentleman in the photo looks like he could lock himself in a room with that sweater and be a happy camper!  Notice the visible part of the description in the lower right hand corner likens the pattern to that of a “Russian Ballet Costume”.  I can picture my burly husband in it now.

And the amazing thing is……………it’s an unfinished knitting project!  Yes folks, someone not only knew a man who would LOVE this purple spotted sweater, but they knitted most of it before coming to their senses!   

Now I’m a pretty brave knitter.  I figure it’s only yarn and knitting only has two stitches.  Could I knit this?  Why would I try?  I’d be so tangled in yarn I’d need to gnaw my way out!  I don’t know a dog let alone a man who would wear this sweater.  If I did knit this, would I sell it on Ebay?  No way!  I might turn it into a pillow but I’d never sell it.  It’s one thing to get that far into an ugly sweater before you change your mind.  It’s a whole other thing to admit it!

It’s been listed for several days now.  Starting bid was $20 with $10 shipping.  No takers yet.  Shocker. 

www.braindebris.wordpress.com

Doggy Socks and Hats with Ears

Over the years we’ve had quite a few pets at our house.  Of those that lived more than a month, we’ve had ferrets, chameleons, a gecko, the @!^&)#@$ rabbit, a dog, a love bird, a cockatiel, a parrot, russian tortoises, turtles, a bearded dragon, and a whole bunch of fish tanks. 

We were in the pet store shopping for the critters the other day and I noticed the clothing aisle for dogs keeps expanding.  It seems dogs have finally found their fashion sense and have been secretly designing wardrobes for years.  Who knew?  Unless you’re a porn star, owning a fur coat also requires you have an outfit to go with it.  Apparently, sitting around licking their butts isn’t all they do while we’re gone!  (Now I’ll have to use clorox wipes on my pinking shears.) 

I was doing quite well just chuckling to myself over the doggy bling until I came across……….

Dog socks.  Yep, socks for dogs with little rubber paw prints.  A set of four. (I can’t keep my dryer from eating one from each pair.  Keeping four socks together would be a nightmare!)  I had to hurry through the store to find my husband with tears in my eyes.  I kept getting this vision of a dog in a t-shirt, briefs, and socks reliving Tom Cruise’s scene from that movie where he slides across the floor after his parents leave.   Now in all fairness, Prancer is getting old and has trouble keeping her balance on slick floors.  When she runs through the kitchen she makes sure she pounces from rug to rug so she doesn’t slip.  While the socks might prevent her from pretending she’s Tom Cruise, they could keep her from sliding right into the opposite wall while running through the kitchen.  On the other hand, if Prancer had been wearing dog socks when I had been cleaning the rabbit cage she would have had wet soggy doggy socked feet!  

In case you’re wondering, I did not buy the doggy socks for Prancer (copious amounts of fluids and solids would have spewed forth had I tried to put them on her) but I did debate the little doggy rain coat.  After all, she does hate to pee when it’s raining outside.  In the end, I decided against that one too.  Peeing in the rain is less traumatic than having a rain coat strapped to your tummy and I doubt she’d hold it long enough for me to get her in it.

With doggy socks fresh in my mind, my husband and I trekked out for date night last night.  As I’m sipping my caramel machiatto substitute, I flip through a knitting magazine and find a pattern for……….

. . . a knitted doggy hat complete with scarf and ear pockets.  Chuckling in public is becoming a trend.  First, we all know the trouble I have with hat gauge.  I can just see my poor dog pouncing through the leaves with a hat down around her snout.  Then I realize the poor schnauzer in the picture is probably laying down because he can’t walk without tripping over his scarf.  Shouldn’t there be a dog height to scarf ratio?   And if the poor thing does walk, he can’t hear his human calling for him because he has alpaca merino in his ears!  I can just imagine dogs all over the world asking, “Do you think this hat makes my ears look big?”  Do you think Italian Bull Dogs named Brutus wear scarf hats?  “Wha choo lookin at?”

Then it occurs to me that if my dog owned socks, hats, and a rain coat, wouldn’t  I need to buy a dresser for it?  Why isn’t the pet store selling doggy dressers?   Would the dresser need a mirror so she could see how she looks in her hat?  Will she be doing her own laundry?  Will she refuse to pee because she doesn’t have a thing to wear?  If she goes out only in a fur coat is she naked?  Will I get arrested for indecent doggy exposure?  Will I have to move to a nudist colony to own a dog?  Do dog prom dresses have flaps for butt sniffing?  What does one wear to the vet?  Shouldn’t the vet be providing doggy gowns?  Would they be open in the front or the back?  Is this a trend?  Will my fish soon need swim suits?

www.braindebris.wordpress.com

Cool Moments in Teaching

One great thing about my job(s) is that every day is a new adventure.  Sometimes the adventure is the “sit on the deck of a cruise ship sipping something naughty from a pineapple” type and sometimes it’s the “root canal while drinking ice water without the good happy gas” type.  Fortunately, I spend more days sipping from proverbial pineapples than getting root canals but I sure wouldn’t turn down a thank-you tank of happy gas now and then!

Today was one of those cruise ship days.  Rather exhausting but full of little moments that make you want to hum on your way home.  During science class, some students spun orbit simulators over their heads to investigate how weight effects orbit while others used latex sheets and water balloons to investigate orbital pathways using a marble.  No one was injured, nothing got broke, and they all looked ridiculous wearing the safety goggles.  It’s always a good day when goggles are involved. 

As a service learning project, all 58 of my students are learning to knit.  Yep, even the boys.  The Needle Arts Mentoring Project donated all the  needles and some start-up yarn.  I just had to be brave enough to give pointy sticks to 12 year olds!  Their mission is to knit at least one 6×9 inch rectangle to be sent to the Afghan Project: an organization that assembles rectangles into afghans for wounded soldiers recovering in the hospital.  One of the boys has become so addicted to knitting that he has challenged himself to knit a continuous narrow scarf that will go around the mile track.  He’s got 30 feet done.  Only 5000+ to go!  Two of the girls came to me today and needed advice on basketweave and stripe patterns.  They only learned to knit 10 weeks ago.  At least 20 of the students carry their knitting everywhere throughout the day.  It’s a great feeling knowing that I’ve helped others to learn that knitting can give you a sense of accomplishment and peace.  They’ll have 30 more years to enjoy it than I will.

I just returned from teaching my college class.  It looks like I’ll be teaching two next semester!  If the details can be worked out, I’ll be teaching Technology in Education along with my Intro to Scientific Inquiry course.  Tonight I watched as 16 adults measured things using toothpicks, learned about the reproductive habits of bees, and played with prisms and laser pointers.  Everything was new and exciting and I learned that college students still want to make laser pointer swirlies on the ceiling.  Not much changes from sixth grade! 

Whether the students are 12 or 22 seems to make little difference.  They all remind me of why I have chalk dust on my butt and overhead marker on my face.  Because of what I do, there are dozens of people home tonight talking about the cool thing that spun, the new stitch they learned, or how many sparkles an engagement ring produces when a laser pointer hits it.  Not one could say they answered questions in a text book and I’m not the least bit upset by that.  

www.braindebris.wordpress.com

When Guage Attacks

Every payday my husband and I go out for payday date night.  We treck to our favorite chinese restaraunt then jaunt over to the bookstore for coffee.  He grabs a pile of tropical fish and remote control hobby magazines and cools my coffee while I search for the latest and greatest teacher resource or knitting book.  We used to be faithful Barnes and Noble goers but they failed to consult us on their planned move to the mall.  We are not pleased.  So lately we’ve been gracing Borders with our presence.  Much smaller selection but better coffee.  It’s a trade.

A few weeks ago I was happily digesting pepper chicken and sipping my caramel machiatto substitute when I happened upon the coolest pattern.  It’s the Neck Warmer Hat in the book Knitted Gifts by Ann Budd.  It’s knit on circuluar needles until it’s 11 inches long.  You put a few eyelet holes near the top, knit a length of I-cord to string through, and you’ve got yourself a hat that can be cinched at the top, pulled down around your neck, or opened part way to let your hair hang out.  Cool huh! 

Now those of you who know me may be wondering why I think this hat pattern is cool.  After all, I hate hats.  I’ll wear ear muffs or a head band thing but I’d rather shiver than wear a hat.  They are itchy and too tight and my hair tends to point in a thousand staticky directions when I take them off.  Men have tried to get me to wear hats and eat seafood for years. 

So I see this hat pattern and I think, “If this thing can fit down your face and loosely, yet seductively, rest around your neck then it can’t be tight.”  Then I think, “And if I knit it myself I can use the softest yarn and it won’t be scratchy and itchy.”  Then I realize, “If my hair is sticking out all over the place no one will think to notice the width of my hips!”  See, Cool Hat Pattern!

Pattern in hand I get home and look through my stash and find three balls of the fluffiest wool and angora blend yarn you can find.  Enough yardage?  Check.  Correct weight?  No idea.  Well no matter because I am a knitter and it’s close enough.  It’s a flexible hat so we can be flexible with the yarn.

Then I search through my needles for a circular size 7.  Well, better go 8 because I’m a little bit of a tight knitter and always have to use one size larger.  Hmmmm, only had a size 10.  But they are Addi Turbos (magic needles) and maybe I’m a tighter knitter than I think so….close enough.  After all, I don’t like hats because they are tight.  If it’s a little looser than expected that would be great!

So I cast on the required 126 stitches and knit about 3 inches when I look down and realize I’m knitting a skirt for a plus size woman.  Hmmmmmm, maybe a size 10 needle was a tad too much.  But never fear, in my infinite knitting wisdom I put the hat starter (not to be confused with gravy starter . . . family joke) on my head, pinch the excess hat, count the pinched off stitches (I’m so darn clever), and decide if I had just cast on 90 stitches instead of 126 the thing would be perfect!  I cross my fingers and pray the angora/wool can be frogged and meet with success.  (Thank you knitting Goddess!) 

Try number 2.  I cast on 90 stitches and happily knit away until I get to 9 inches and am ready for the eyelet row.  Things look perfect!  Then I try it on.  (I just love circular needles.)  Just a tad bit loose.  BUT if I fold the ribbing up it tightens things just right.  Guess I had better add one more inch to the length to account for that folding up business.  A few more inches and I’m binding off feeling rather proud of myself.  I can now say I’m experienced enough to make adjustments to a tube of yarn that will slide over my head.  Looses some umpgh when put that way but it was a darn good moment!

Feeling very snappy I dug up a few size 7 double points and knit 3 whole stitches until I had over 3 feet of hat rope.  I figured might as well use the recommended needle size.  After all, why take chances.  I laced my I-Cord through the eyelets and pulled that tube of flexible warmth over my head.  Just as I predicted….soft, loose, I could wear this hat.  So I did. 

With a few minor adjustments it will be PERFECT!

Unfortunately, the longer I wore it the looser it got.  In fact, it got quite loose.  At times it slid off the back of my head but I was not deterred!  It was a labor of hope and knitting confidence and I just can’t abandon my dream hat.  As I see it, I have only two alternatives.  I can frog it or I can felt it.  If I frog it I can give that recommended needle size a try and see what happens.  If I felt it I wouldn’t have to spend another two weeks knitting it again but it might become a grapefruit cozy.  I think I’ll leave it in my basket with the 1/2 finished Booby Socks until it decides what it wants me to do.  I’m on to knitting a shawl.  It doesn’t care what size I make it!

Boo!

I thought Halloween would be a fitting time to dust off a few cobwebs and rise from the crypt of undead bloggers.  In case you’re wondering what I plan to be for this wonderous pagan holiday, I’m leaning toward “chubby chick stuffing her face with pizza”.  I figure the world has all the princesses and cheerleaders it needs.  Be forewarned trick or treaters:  anyone coming to my house begging for candy with a size 2 waist gets gum.  I reserve chocolate for people who know how to appreciate it!

Well, where to begin?  I believe my first task should be to apologize to my fans for staying away so long.  I’m sorry to both of you.  It seems while I am away, Val faithfully checks every week to see if I have imparted any wisdom to the masses.  Hi Val!  How’s your dog?  I’m sorry to have kept you in suspense.  My fellow blogger and mitochondrial DNA source peeks in from time to time too.  After all, it’s so hard to keep in touch when all you have are telephones, email, and Facebook.  Hi Mom!   And for the record, my blog has not been abandoned, I have been vicariously napping through it.

Alrighty then. . . awkward silence.  When I logged on I had this whole mental list of things I could chat about.  Each one was amazingly insightful and witty.  What I hadn’t counted on was the constant commentary on Craig’s list coming from the next room.  Each time I begin a thought I’m regaled with shouted details of someone’s used boat batteries or the cost of particle shelving.  Yes folks, my husband is a Craig’s List lurker and feels the need to share a plethora of electronic yard sale items with me.  No respect for my creative juices I tell you!  How am I expected to concentrate with all these fleeting insignificant interruptions?  THAT’S IT!  I’m not chubby or retaining water.  My creative juices are backing up.  I’m retaining verbage.  Whew!  Gotta run, pizzas here. 

 This blog is property of Braindebris@wordpress.com so back away from that copy/paste bucko and think for yourself!

Sissy Hunting Dog and the Dissappearing Blogger

Sounds like a Nancy Drew mystery doesn’t it?!  Yes, I am still among the living.  I’ve discovered that my life is just too busy to dedicate an entire block of time to daily blogging.  Maybe if the computer had a stick with a truffle hanging from it chearing me on.  I’m quite sure I’ve lost my entire entourage of 3 readers due to my extended absence but I can always email my mother and get one back!

So what could inspire me, other than a truffle, to tippy type my way back into blogging fame?  My dog. 

Prancer is an 11 year old Shiba Enu.  Her ancestors were bred in Japan to hunt small game on the sides of mountains.  Apparently, someone forgot to inform Prancer of her illustrious heritage.

She’s always had a few little quirky habits.  When she gets a new bone she carries it around the house for extended periods of time while whining.  Loudly.  She then puts the bone in her bed and lays down next to it.  Apparently bones require a place of honor and comfort.  She doesn’t chew her toys up but does nibble them to death.  She will not sit on a couch or a bed if another human is on them but does make exceptions if it’s thundering outside or no one’s home and she needs a place to deposit fur.  She is also very selective with who gets the honor of letting her outside.  She will sooner explode than tinkle for just anyone.  (Unless you are a vet, an employee of the vet, or a distant relative of the vet.  Any of which will be rewarded by copius amounts of solids and liquids spewing at high vilocity in several directions.)  Which leads us to “the ritual”.

Having such high standards for letter-outers leads a dog to have frequent middle of the night regrets.  It seems that refusing to go outside most of the evening catches up with the bladder around 3am.  Coincidently, this is also the time when various rabbits, raccoons, and stray dogs are cruising through the yard but we’re sure that has nothing to do with it.  So last night when Prancer began her  “scratch at the bedroom door and hope someone lets me in to let me out” ritual, we weren’t buying it.  (And before you all ask why we don’t just let her sleep in the bedroom with us, she won’t.  We’ve tried that.)

She began at the son’s door.  After ignoring it the best he could he let her in.  She layed down just long enough for him to fall asleep before she began pawing his hair.  Once he covered his head with a quilt she became discouraged and started in at my bedroom door.  After shouting “go lay down” as quietly as I could several times I finally got up and let her in.  She sucked her little shedding body to the side of my bed until I stopped petting her then proceeded to scratch the carpet while spinning in circles.  (We’ve learned the scratching is universal doggy communication for “if you’re not going to get up and move my bed then I’ll just have to dig to China before I’m comfortable.”)  Surprisingly, once she settled in she fell asleep.  I should have known something was up. 

When I woke up in this morning Prancer sucked herself to my leg and followed me through the house and into the bathroom.  It wasn’t until the return trip, with her still stuck to my leg like a leech, that I saw it.  A mouse.  Yes ladies and gentlemen, my purebred Japanese hunting dog is terrified of mice.  Well, thunder and mice.  And vets.  Usually she whines when a creature enters her part of the house but I figure she’s getting old.  The panic of the previous night is just the doggy dimensia setting in.  Like her new habit of barking at the front door when you set a glass down in the kitchen but not when someone is knocking on the front door.  Until…………it moved.  (At this point I began scratching on the bedroom door and whining for my husband.  I felt her pain.)

It seems while we were peacefully sleeping, my dog was being terrorized by a mouse who managed to get stuck, but not injured, in a plastic trap.  It’s little back legs were scootching all over the floor like a kid that had crawled into a pillow case to find the last oreo cookie.  (Now don’t tell me you never hid oreo cookies in your pillowcase!)  I can imagine her terror as she scratched on door after door while the dreaded vampire frankenstein mouse scootched nearer and nearer.  Apparently jumping on the couch hadn’t crossed her mind. 

To make up for the trauma, we gave her a bone which she proceeded to carry around while whining and fretting over where to put it.  To add insult to doggy injury, my son looked at her and said, “Poor puppy, and you expected ME to get up and take care of a mouse?”  I’m not sure it was the kind of sympathy she was hoping for.

So here I am, apologizing to my elderly nuerotic dog.  See you at 3am.

www.braindebris.wordpress.com

No Wonder Doctors are 12

My week has been a conglomerate of little projects that have kept me from finishing any one thing.  My soldier son has gone active (that will be another post), I’m fighting with a nasty EBay person, and I seem to have reached the end of my formal education.

A few weeks ago I would have adamantly denied my interest in pursuing a doctorate.  I learned while acquiring my masters that I love to conduct research but I’m not so fond of writing about it until I puke.  I did think about the idea long and hard.  I spoke with several people who have doctorates or are pursuing them.  I weighed the advantages and disadvantages: not much advantage in the education field unless you want to feel important or be a superintendent or professor.  I looked at lifetime salary increases versus the cost of 96 more credit hours.  (I don’t have enough life left to pay for another 96 credit hours!)  And just to give writing up the research a side in the argument, I bought a book called Write Your Dissertation in 15 Minutes a Day.   In the end, I made peace with the decision that a doctorate just wasn’t for me.

Then I woke up Monday.  It’s almost August and I’m not registered for any classes.  Stores are selling school supplies and I have no need to look at the latest and greatest note taking ink pens.  I’m going to have to start paying back student loans!  I’m not a student anymore!  UUUUGGGGGG!  In fact, according to my college licensing board, I am in a position to renew my teaching license until 2027 without taking another class!  I could retire by then!

While many people can’t wait to get out of school, I enjoyed college.  (Well, there was the one professor that screamed at us all the time, never knew what she had assigned, and answered every question with, “You people think you’re smarter than me.   I have a doctorate.”  Could have lived without her!  But then the adorable (insert drool) physics professor who wore surfer shorts and flipflops in winter made up for her.)  The thought of not working towards an achievement, of not having a defined goal, is more terrifying than the thought of having to write that stupid dissertation! 

So I opened the phone book and started the search.  With a 4.0 and maxed scores on my exams, I didn’t have a concern about who would accept me so I started with the university closest to me and spread out from there.  Indiana University: have to spend two summers on the Bloomington campus.  Can’t do but the most likely option.  Purdue University: have to drive 4 hours one night a week to take a class.  Can’t do.  Ball State: many classes online but not all and would have to take a leave of absence from work.  Can’t do.  Notre Dame: I have a department chair willing to sponsor me but I’d have to leave my job.  Can’t do. 

It seems that you can either focus all your attention on going to school or on doing the job you went to school for.  You can’t have both.  I wasn’t ready to start this when I was younger and now that I’m older I have too many other commitments to devote all my time to it.  No wonder all the doctors look like Doogy Howzer.  You have to jump in there before your life starts!  Having started my career in my late 30′s, I want to enjoy it.  So my new plan is to teach until I retire while keeping my radar out for a program that I can complete while working.  If nothing turns up, I take advantage of reduced tuition for senior citizens and get my picture in the paper for being the oldest doctoral candidate in my class!

www.braindebris.wordpress.com