The Empty Gas Tank

Let me tell you just a little bit about us.

• We live in the middle of nowhere. 
• Gas stations are few are far between. 
• The gas stations we do have certainly aren't open 24 hours.  
  

All of those are the reasons why I try to make sure that I always have enough gas in the car I drive most often.  Which makes me wonder . . . Why is it that when I got in the car today to take Peanut to school, the low fuel level light popped on almost instantly?

The answer to that question is - Doc and I don't have the same stance on gas.  Doc is a man of efficiency.  He doesn't like to take time out to get gas until he is on empty.  I like to fill up any time I'm near Kroger (to get $0.20 off per gallon) or anytime the needle hits (or is close to) the 1/4 line.  You'd think after 10 years of marriage we would have come to an understanding on this matter.  We haven't.  Though I've fortunately never run out of gas.  He does make sure that there is enough to get to the nearest gas station.

To be fair, I'm sure I am still doing things he's asked me to stop doing (or not doing things he's asked me to do) for the past 10 years as well.  Why is it so hard to change our ways?

Thankful Thursday - Blogging (talking without forcing anyone to listen)

Yesterday I was out shopping with Pumpkin after we dropped Peanut off at school.   We walked into JCPenney just to browse since I had a coupon for $10 off a purchase of $10 or more.  As we were looking at jeans for Doc, I heard an older man say hello to another older woman in the store.  Here's how their conversation went -

Man - Hello.
Woman - Hello.  How are you today?
Man - I woke up this morning.
Woman - Well, that is a good way to start the day.
Man - Yes, I suppose it is.  Can I ask you a question?
Woman - You may.
Man - If a woman is shopping by herself and a man approaches her to ask her a question, is she still alone?

Okay, by this point I was more than a little creeped out.  I don't know if it was the tone of his voice or the fact that he kept walking toward the woman who was obviously just trying to be polite.  Either way, I had taken Pumpkin by the hand and was walking quickly between the clothes racks to a location where I could no longer see or hear the conversation taking place.   As I made my way across the store, I passed a JCPenney employee.  She greeted me as she passed by with a cart of clothes that presumably needed to go out on the racks.  She also greeted another older woman.  Here's how their conversation went -

JCP - How are you this morning?
Woman - Good.  At least I'm better than yesterday.  Yesterday I had a migraine.  All day.  I just couldn't get rid of it.  I'm not feeling great today, but definitely better than that.
JCP - Oh.  I'm glad you're feeling better today.
Woman - I am.  Still not great though.  I'm tired.  Migraines always make me tired.

Honestly, when people that you don't know ask you how you are, they generally don't really want to know.  They are just making small talk.  They are issuing a basic greeting.  We must all try to remember that.  In all fairness, I am a talker.  I blame it entirely on my father.  I sometimes catch myself explaining myself to people that probably could not care less.  I'm sure the waitress doesn't care why I'm ordering one entree over another.  Nor is she concerned that the reason I'm in such a hurry for the bill is that I have to be at a concert in 1/2 hour, for my daughter, who is in the first grade,  and happens to like the color purple, which is fortunate since that is the color of her costume . . .

See, if left to my own devices I would most definitely become one of those people that talks incessantly to anyone that will listen.  Fortunately, I have blogging.  Blogging is a way for me to talk, ramble and rant without forcing anyone to be polite and listen.

Random Rant - CAPTCHAs!

CAPTCHAs . . . seriously?

Okay, I get the purpose of a captcha.   You want to make sure I'm a real person and not a spam bot or program that is somehow designed to enter contests, comments and information without a real person suffering through the process.   Honestly, I couldn't create a program to enter my information if my life depended on it.  I'm just not that technology savvy.  If you are going to make me enter a captcha though, could you at least make it legible?  How about a real word?  Is it asking too much to not include symbols that I've never even seen used in the English language before?  I used to hate those math problems and the questions that would ask something like, "What color is grass?" just because I thought they were stupid and a bit of a waste of time.  Right now, I think I'd take some good old fashion long-division over an illegible CAPTCHA. 

*Rant over . . . Now back to your regularly scheduled posts!  :o)

Why Basic Math Skills are a Necessity

Let me preface this by saying that I am NOT perfect. You will find errors in spelling, grammar, and more on this blog on a daily basis. If after reading this you feel inclined to search and find those errors and point them out to me, feel free to do so. However this is not an attack on any individual person. This is simply observation and my own opinion.

Yesterday, after taking Pumpkin to ballet, I decided to grab some fast-food dinner on the way home. I didn't feel like cooking and wasn't sure if I had enough thawed ingredients in the house to make a complete meal anyway. (As an aside - Now I know why my mom used to make so many casseroles!) After placing my order they gave me my total and I proceeded to the window to pay. Never one to carry cash, I handed them my credit card. Shortly thereafter, I heard, "Oh sh*t" and saw a group of three people huddled around the cash register. They bantered back and forth for a while, and I heard of slew of numbers being rattled around. When I finally got my card and order, the young girl told me that she accidentally pressed the wrong button and had originally only charged me $1.10 for the order. The three workers were standing around trying to figure what the difference was between my total and $1.10 so that they could send a second transaction for the remaining balance. Assuming they had figured it out, I didn't look at my receipts until I got home. Apparently subtraction was not a strength of any of the workers, because they ended up charging me $0.96 less than what I owed.

Now what do I do? Should I take a dollar with me next week when I go to ballet so that I can pay my balance or are they going to look at me like I'm crazy? Do I just let it go and try to live with the guilt of knowing that I didn't pay the $0.96 that I owe. (Yeah, I have BAD mommy guilt issues . . . but that is for another post.) If only they had basic math skills or a nearby calculator, it would have saved me some unnecessary stress.

I'm off to get the girls' cash register out of the closet. It is time we get cracking on on their basic money math skills. :o)