Hey, Mom! The Explanation.

Here's the permanent dedicated link to my first Hey, Mom! post and the explanation of the feature it contains.

Thursday, September 8, 2016

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #429 - Talking again #8 - Throwback Thursday

Mom with Delbridge family for Lois Graduation Party -June 1986
Back row: Wilbur, Lois, Ward; Front: Mom and Grandpa Foster Delbridge
Mom's brothers, niece, and father
Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #429 - Talking again #8 - Throwback Thursday

Hey Mom,

For those who have read these talking posts before, I promise no organization, as you well know, Mom, this is random and very stream of conscious with pocket universes of focus as I roll.

So, school started this week. For me, I was already teaching four classes that started earlier in August. CTU basically never has more than a week break at a time for the whole year, so that school runs pretty much all the time. But I felt strong resistance to wanting to start up the rest of it, the class I am taking and the classes I am teaching. It's so much the classes themselves that I mind, it's just being busier, having things that require me to leave the house and maintain more of a hectic schedule, and the way in which all of that compromises my ability to get work done, get to bed on time, walk the dog, exercise, eat good food, and feel like life is not a high-speed train that I cannot seem to catch and hold onto.

The craziness of the week starting and Labor Day caused me to fall two days behind on the blog through Wednesday, but I was prepared for that, so I caught up quickly. Still, I wonder at my ability to maintain a daily regimen, especially in terms of generating original content like this. I can always re-post something. But if all my blog is consists of reposts, that's not quite what I had in mind when I started it.

FUN FACT: I left for class yesterday -- off to the bank first -- without the room number of where the class I was to attend was meeting. I considered calling my wife or asking when I got to the CS department office, which I walk right by. And then I remembered that I had a computer connected to the Internet IN MY POCKET. I logged onto the wmu site easily as Google Chrome remembers my log in information. I looked up the course's room number in a few minutes.

I have been thinking a lot about work flow. Lately, I have been trying to manage a great deal of work. I have an excellent blog entry to re-post about work flow, which is an actual thing with a Wikipedia page an everything. One of the things I was dreading about the start up of school in the Fall is interruptions, fewer days with nothing to do, classes to teach and attend, meetings, STUFF. Being hectic helps my work somewhat as I am closer to deadlines, but there's other issues, such as how I want to take off Sundays. So far, this week is not a good test case because I lost half of Labor Day. In a normal week, I might be a half of a day farther ahead.

I broke the ceiling fan. I do stupid things for which I feel so much embarrassment that I feel sick. So, the other night, I lifted two weights over my head and creamed the ceiling fan, shearing off a blade. The thing was already out of balance and now it's completely broken, so it's a small consolation that we needed a new one anyway.

Dad has pain, but he's bringing us honey. So, Dad emails me in the middle of the night earlier this week that has going to the ER with pain in his side. It's his potassium. He thinks. This is the theory. It's been a few days, and though he will not take ibuprofen, the pain has come down, and he's feeling better. Now, he's getting a blood test to check his potassium levels.

Rude student. Some students, usually male, just rub me the wrong way. I had a student yesterday ask to whom he would speak to test out of the class. I gave my usual spiel about going to the LS office but encouraged him to stay as the class is super awesome. I have found this offer to work in 90% of the cases and have inspired students to stay in the course rather than test out. He said, "no, I don't think so," and walked out. In and of itself, that is not so rude. But it was his manner and the tone of his voice. I should have responded with "rude!" but I am not that quick. Also, I don't want to respond with negativity, Mom. You know what I mean?

No CTU classes yet. This makes me nervous. Scratch that. They're posted. Every semester -- which for CTU turns over every 5.5 weeks -- I go through this nail biter. It's why I am taking computer science classes. But since I wrote that comment for this part of the post, the classes have been scheduled. CTU is my main money maker, so I depend on those classes, especially since, given the way that Park does credits, I will only have, at most, one course in the Fall II semester.

Taking breaks. I am trying to be better about working and taking breaks. I have been doing exercise breaks and match breaks in addition to my usual food breaks and laundry breaks. But now with daily deadlines for when I have to leave the house, the days are less leisurely and thus fewer breaks. I am not fond of this set up.

Thinking about fiction and re-reading OSC's book. As I often do, I am re-reading Orson Scott Card's (OSC) book on writing science fiction and fantasy to inspire me to work on my own novel. It's working, a little. That's all for today, Mom. Thanks for listening.


Reflect and connect.

Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you.

I miss you so very much, Mom.

Talk to you tomorrow, Mom.


- Days ago = 431 days ago

- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1609.08 - 10:10

NOTE on time: When I post late, I had been posting at 7:10 a.m. because Google is on Pacific Time, and so this is really 10:10 EDT. However, it still shows up on the blog in Pacific time. So, I am going to start posting at 10:10 a.m. Pacific time, intending this to be 10:10 Eastern time. I know this only matters to me, and to you, Mom. But I am not going back and changing all the 7:10 a.m. times. But I will run this note for a while. Mom, you know that I am posting at 10:10 a.m. often because this is the time of your death.
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