Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we didn’t have to endure torrential downpours and seventy plus mile per hour winds, but after all the work preparing for the storm I was expecting a little more than the cool breeze and soft drizzle we had yesterday.
All in all, though, I am very pleased. We didn’t have to listen to the wind howl, board up our windows, or clean up felled tree limbs, we didn’t even lose power! What amuses me is how dramatically the storm veered from it’s projected course. Earlier it looked like the hurricane would sweep across the coast, maybe head straight down the center of the state, but at the last minute it took a turn and missed us.
I just picture Mathew (the hurricane) barreling towards Florida chanting, “I’m gonna get you! I’m gonna get you! I’m gonna get you!…Just kidding!”
I think that I’ve mentioned before that I drive a convertible. This is not a good thing, it’s a great thing. I love the feel of the sun in my face the wind in my hair (that sounds a little feminine for me, but you get the pic…
Get it?! Get ?!…I’ll show myself out again).
The glories of bad puns aside, there is one major problem with driving a roofless car, and no, it is not the sudden Florida gales, and no it is not the cold weather (it’s Florida people). Sometimes while you’re carefreely cruising in coveted convertible you come across a scent that is less than succulent. Usually these atrocious aromas pass quickly stemming from a local garbage dump or the carcass of an unfortunate animal. This is not the major problem. This problem is minor, trivial even, when compared to the joys of riding the vehicle.
The major problem is when you’re driving along and the noxious smell follows you. After a few minutes you wonder how that stench of petroleum and exhaust is traveling the road with you? Has some toxic waste dump gained sentience and started chasing you down the road? Then you look up and notice the semi ahead of you belching fumes and you think, “That’s gonna be in front of me the whole drive…” and you’re right.
I was helping Nathaniel with his Algebra today when we came upon a problem about converting from rectangular form to polar form. Suddenly it occurred to me, why is it called polar form? I mean rectangular form I get, but Polar Form, how does that work?!? It doesn’t have any polars. It doesn’t even look like a polar! Did they start using this system exclusively in the North or South Pole? Or maybe some guy named Polar invented it, or perhaps polar bears just really love using this coordinate system.
Hi everyone, I’m Stephen. Today in a flash of genius I realized I could create different accounts for each member of the family. What does this do for us you ask? This makes it so the poor readers(that would be you) can finally tell which family member has written which post! What? You knew that all the time? Why didn’t you tell me?
Anyways my genius (or lack thereof) aside, in case you’re not sure which member of the family Iam I’ve attached a family picture.
That’s right, Veronica is learning the clarinet! So as the senior woodwind player (well now I feel old), I am in charge of teaching her.
As you may know, Veronica is the youngest in the family (only seven years old). You might not know that we did not give her the nickname tiny girl. Rather, this was self inflicted. When she was a toddler Veronica would declare, “I’m a tiny girl,” pretty much in any and all situations.
But I digress, At 42 pounds Veronica’s still pretty little, especially since her brothers look like a football team when all together (minus the shiny pants). She’s so little in fact that her slim fingers don’t cover the bottom holes on the clarinet! (well I guess playing scales is out). Furthermore, when she first started playing the instrument I had to hold the bell while she was playing because she wasn’t strong enough to hold the massive woodwind! Despite this small obstacle (get it?) she’s doing amazingly well and can play five songs! Great job Veronica give yourself a pat on the back (just not while holding the clarinet please!)