The Unfound Variable In Math Is My Brain

Yesterday when the boys came over after school... that sounds funny to me. Before the split between their mother and I, it was "the boys came home", but they live with her, so that's home now. So I wonder is my place still home to them as well, or just their dad's place (even though its the same place they called home for 7 years)?

Anyways, after they came here they whipped out their homework to do. It was a math day. For Corwyn, being in the first grade, things are pretty simple. Low numbers, adding and subtracting, counting money and the whole less than (<) greater than (>) and equal to (=) business. Yesterday, what he had to do was counting up money, and figuring out which coins shown on the page were needed to buy the illustrated picture with a price tag on it. Simple stuff, like I said. However, after going over one he was having issues. Two problems shown themselves to me, the first one I didn't fully understand, and that was his wanting to keep confusing quarters as nickels...but only some of the quarters. I'm not sure if we have solidified in his little brain that the bigger "nickel" is actually a quarter and worth 25 cents every single time, while the little nickel is in fact a nickel and worth a measly 5 cents. The other problem I fully understood. Right as the boys were getting started on their homework, another little boy came by wanting to play. Which of course means to little kids, most especially hyperactive little boys such as mine, that the brain has now been reprogrammed to think almost entirely about going outside to play. Math, even that involving money, is not only not that interesting, but hard to comprehend even in the simplest of circumstances. But with a little help focusing on the homework from good ol Dad, he managed to get through his worksheet for the day, and as soon as it was done he was out the door. He didn't bother to put it in his book bag to take home with him so he'd have it to turn into his teacher the next day, it literally floated slowly down onto the end table next to the couch, landing sometime shortly after he was already a good 25 feet outside with his little buddy. I would say I've been there, but I was the type of kid who ran out of school so fast at the end of the day, that not only did any unfinished schoolwork not get taken home, but I had actually arrived home 3 to 4 minutes prior to the bell ringing that signified the end of the school day. I defy any physics teacher or those guys running CERN to figure out the possibility of how I performed this amazing feat.

And then it was on to reviewing one of the older boy's (JOSH) math test. Now Josh is in the 6th grade, and compared to 1st grade, the difficulty level has exponentially increased. No easy A's counting money. No we're talking about long division, fractions, algebraic equations and all that other fun horseshit...most of which will never again be used beyond the halls of Academia. I did a LOT of math growing up, and I passed those classes, and true to form never used them again. Until yesterday, when I looked over Josh's test. He had gotten a 78% on the test, which I was expected to sign and have him return it to the teacher. SO naturally I looked it over, and we went over the mistakes he had made, and figured out what he had done wrong, which basically boils down to he doesn't really care, so he doesn't focus too hard on it, and I believe he already understands that he isn't going to be using this stuff later in life. Part of me is confused, because he is so good at his science class, which is basically word problem math put into action. But whatever, I guess he's going to have to figure that out on his own sooner or later.

So then we go to the extra credit portion of the test, which has 5 or 6 questions of its own. The first section asked questions in relation to a Venn Diagram. He got some questions right, and a couple wrong...of which I couldn't see how he got any of them wrong, until I noticed that what I thought was a right answer was indeed wrong, due to the Venn diagram being in a box, with an extra figure in the corner. Apparently Dad needs to focus as well. So we got that figured out. Then we had to figure out probability of a coin landing in a circle on a square mat, figuring out the area of each. Much to my dismay, they represented PI as a fraction (22/7) instead of the commonly used, and much easier to use number (3.14) we all learned growing up. So we had to figure out this probability with the fractions. It took a bit of figuring out, but we got the right answer. Or rather I figured it out after showing him how to make serious mistakes first. Because I'm a math idiot.

And then finally it was onto finding variables to solve equations. He answered one, and left the other blank. The one he answered, I saw absolutely no work done on it, but somehow he decided "7" was a good answer. I asked about scratch paper, or calculators, none of which they had been allowed to use. For a boy whose mind is constantly moving from one thing to the next, he believed he had the ability, and that I had the wool pulled over my eyes far enough to believe, that he could solve the problem entirely in his head. Turns out, while Dad did not know how to figure out the problem correctly, he could figure out that 7 was a bad answer with a simple glance, and that there was no way in hell Josh did all that algebra in his head. Math is not Josh's strong suit, which is fine as long as he tries, but staring aimlessly about and deciding the answer to a complicated formula would come to him out of thin air was not going to cut the mustard. So we looked over the one he left blank, and in an attempt to show him that I had retained my school math knowledge (which once we got into the higher math consisted of someone else doing my daily work in exchange for me doing their chemistry lab projects- which the only math I involved there was calculating how much I owed the school for destroying their equipment regularly), I have begun to understand that because I no longer participate in math classes, I have forgotten what little bit I learned.

SO I was subtracting from one side of the equation, adding to the other side, and trying to get the variable figured out, so we could solve the problem...then erasing what I did, adding on one side, adding on the other, ERASE ERASE ERASE, subtracting on one side, subtracting on the other, and AHA, I have found the number. "You see, Josh?" I asked, "If you do it like that, it will work out neatly." Then I plugged the number in, and my equations didn't line up. This elicited a small chuckle at my very apparent algebraic incompetence. I wanted to say something about how its much funnier that he's actually being told how to do the stuff and he doesn't get it, than his dad not knowing how to do something right that he hasn't even contemplated in 15 years or so. But, I left the thought in my head, mostly because if I was going to put him and his laughing at me in their rightful place, I'd probably better have half an idea what the hell I am talking about first. As it turns out, I didn't even begin to have half a clue. So on the notebook paper we were using I left a note to the teacher that she's going to have to send example work home on how to do equations, because Josh's Dad is a moron who can't even help out with much of the 6th grade math without much difficulty. We'll see if she follows through with that, or leave me wondering if her and the other math teachers get together in the teacher lounge laughing hysterically at the fact that an almost 32 year old man can't do 6th grade level math.

Here's the best way to find your friggin variable!!!:

Christmas...12 Feet Under The Snow!

So, I was itching to get back to write about all the new stuff that has happened this Christmas holiday. Now that I'm here and in front of the computer, I'm a lot more overwhelmed than thrilled about documenting s short snippet into the life that lends itself to the Mind of Mookie.

But first off, a little housekeeping is in order. To all you idealist people who kept wishing and praying for a white Christmas....let me be the first to say thank you very much. In two weeks, I've seen around 30 or so inches of snow. In two weeks, we have met our yearly snowfall average. Winter technically started a week ago. As a man who is NOT a fan of precipitation in any form, you can take your wishes of a snow filled christmas and stick it in some places best not actually said in this public forum. Christmas morning found my car lost...and only by the graciousness of my dad to plow the snow out of the driveway was my car even visible to be dug out. So thank you.



So anyways... On Christmas Eve I get off work at 8am, and we travel the two and a hlaf hours to my parents for Christmas and the ensuing weekend, which lasted longer than anticipated, but we'll get back to that later. Roads weren't too bad, mostly wet, but got a bit icy as we got closer to our destination. Had we left much later, our trip may have been more aptly described by the hit song "An Icey Dicey Christmas" as sung by Burl Ives.

As some of you have already read, I recently acquired a niece after a kindly stork dropped by my sister and her husband's place in Florida. So this was going to be our first time seeing her in person. About 35 minutes into the trip my wife realizes she left the camera at home. Well, given the storm predictions, we'll just have to hope my sister remembered hers and can send us photos. My sister came through not only with a camera, but a laptop to upload the photos to an online storage site, Snapfish (Let me be clear...this is not a paid endorsement. None of these damn companies I ever mention think to offer me money to brag about them on this most popular of blog pages), so they would be ready to be organized once we made it home, and for me to be able to post them here today for you to enjoy.

Well, anyways, we got to see our niece, Sophia. I made her smile, mostly because I'm on the same level as new babies when it comes to maturity. Also, I like to burp and poop alot, so we have lifestyles in common.


So here are a few pictures of my new niece. With her mother in her new Christmas dress. Then again with my wife.
And here is Sophie, slightly intrigued, but still not sure about this Christmas present business.
And of course, helping Daddy play some cards. And trust me when I tell you, he needed all the help he could get. He may be part Rocket Scientist, but when it comes to games of chance, the playing field is leveled out a bit for the reast of us lowly peasants. And there she is laying on a blanket with me looking down on her. Don't mistake my smile for pure joy. I'm still curious about this little one. Hard to tell if I really like her or not. She cries a lot, which disinterests me. Now, I know what you're thinking: Shame on you Mike, she's just a baby. and then there will be my wife telling me to drop the macho uncaring act, and that she'll have me wrapped around her little finger. Whatever, I say. We were busy amusing each other with making raspberry noises at each other. What can I say? I'm easily entertained. We'll see how she is when she gets older. If she ends up anything like her mother was, it wont be good. Any car rides while visiting will be accompanied by a lot fo bickering in the backseat and my brother-in-law incredulous at having to chastise both a child and an adult with the idea of turning the car right back around and going home. And of course, the jeers of "she touched me first!!!" whining out of my mouth. Should be interesting to say the least.



Anyways, it was the 24th of December, which of course means it is Buggy's 6th birthday. Another first and only milestone in his life. He'll never turn 6 again. His "Uncle Jim" usually puts himself in charge of making birthday cakes for the boys. He definitely outdid himself this year with a multi-layered cake, plus a couple cookies, a lot of icing, and a motion sensor dinosaur built into the birthday cake.

So we had a birthday celebration, prior to a bunch of people coming over for the traditional Christmas Eve get together my parents have. Weather, being all snowy and blowy, kept a few people away this evening, but still a good sized crowd for such a small little house.

The next morning, after we all finally woke up. Becky and Vic, obviously awoken by their baby, and quite possibly by my two boys who shared the bedroom with them. I, on the otherhand, not being the center of attention at the ripe old age of 30, no longer get up 3 hours before dawn to raid the stocking and start figuring out which presents are mine. I'll get up when either my bladder or everyone else decides I need to get up. But I have to admit, the tree looked pretty good and sparkly. It was a shorter tree than usual, but rather full and balanced, which always makes for a prettier Christmas tree. Add the presents and the shiny bows that add to the glow off the light-adorned tree, and there is still that little flicker of magic that Christmas always holds over the imagination.

Everybody scored some pretty good loot, but the best present I got was actually the present I gave to my sister. You see, in all my years, I have been able to pretty much pick up a package and guess the contents underneath the wrapper, with almost 100% accuracy. It's a gift that can't be taught. Well, two years my sister has managed to mess up my formula and my guesses were wrong. That was years ago. But this year, after all had been forgotten by most, it was my turn to get her.
I enlisted my mom's help in wrapping up multiple boxes inside each other...add some tissue paper here, packing peanuts there...it was quite the job. In one of the random boxes, I had taped her gift card to the inside front, in a position where she wouldn't notice it. She went on to the next box, pulled another out of the bag, opened it up and found a smaller box. And neatly folded inside this little Jewelry box, underneath the protective batting layers was a note telling her that she had still had some looking to do, and that somewhere in the mess she had made was her actual gift. It took awhile, adn I finally had to point out the box to her. The look on her face (my mom prophecied the night before while we worked on this project that Becky would cuss me out for this, which she did) was more than satisfying. Her frustration and the "I'm gonna kill you!" look made my Christmas.

Quantum Theory Has The Cubs Winning the World Series

Now, maybe I don't have a firm grasp on everything there is to know in this universe of ours. I know what you're thinking. Mookie DOESN'T know everything? Yes, hard t believe but true. And part of that reason is any subject that began with the word "quantum" generally sent me into my own little world to ignore a subject that more theory than possibly conflicting facts.

I now believe in Quantum something or another Theory. I have decided, after working last night, that somewhere in an alternate universe, the Chicago Cubs did in fact win the Wolrd Series. How do I know this. Because Hell Has Frozen Over in Iowa!

Not only did we get more snow in one storm system than we have had since 1996, (we had 16 inches dumped on us), but the temperatures dropped into single digits with windchills WAY below zero. The wind was gusting between 45 and 60 miles per hour, creating white out conditions. And not just regular white out like you use on paper, and can see the mistake...this was Super White Out. It erased the front end of my patrol car from visibility altogether. Recently plowed roads were re-covered by a big blanket of white blown back ontot he roadway by the highg winds...most multilane roads had one driveable path, and if it was a two way road....well let's just say that thanks to a big tractor looking snowplow who refused to hold up until I could get around a big drift that erased part of the road, I became stuck...100 feet from the building my work is located in, and 400 feet from the building that I was responding to an alarm at. Naturally noone was available to help a rentacop out. so, I ran (and by run I mean in slowmo as I bounded through drift after drift like some sort of sled dog with only 2 legs) to the shop grabbed a shovel and proceeded to scoop my patrol car free. In the process I could barely see the car I was scooping free, and simultaneously trying to remain in position to do the job as th wind tried to blow my butt across the road. My already cold legs that had been exposed to lots of snow from earlier events, were now being windburned THROUGH my pants. Already exposed to moisture and frozen half solid, this was not good. I'm pretty sure I died from exposure...twice.

To back up a bit....I got up in plenty of time to go to work, but i spent ten minutes getting unstuck from my parking spot here at home. I make it to the shop..well the south entrance to the parking lot, and spend 20 minutes digging my way out of that with an ice scraper of all things. I go to the north entry, get stuck there, and it was an hour after I originally got on scene before my car was rescued and allowed to be parked in the lot behind our work garage. I braved the treacherous roads, and was forced to do more drive-by checks than actual lot patrols at many of my accounts as there was NO way to access the property without getting stuck again, and I'll be damned if they pay me enough to bound through nut-high snow drifts in single digit temperatures just to walk around a building while I risk my patrol car getting bashed up or buried by the DOT snow plows going up and down the mai roads in fruitless efforts to keep them open even a little bit.

I made a few extra efforts to make a more complete job at properties, btu most of it was simply driving the roads around them and making sure there was nothing visibly wrong with the places. Then at about 4am, I get a call to go to a residential house buried deep in the heart of residential development and about 6 or 7 blocks from any main road. I made it down the side street that intersected the street I was looking for. Then I humped it the 75 yards through snow and high winds blasting my face just to walk around a house that has been drifted shut, and showed no signs of entry. the alarm were interior motion alarms, no perimeters. I leave, I manage to get back to the main road and on my way....20 minutes later, I get teh call for the same place, same alarm. The homeowner is in Denver, and insists we re-check the place. All I have to say is the only way someone was going to burgle that house was to come up from underground and drill through the slab underneath. So back I go down the side road that hasn't seen a plow in probably 8 hours or more, hike through the snow to their house where I could hike through more snow and find out that there still was nothing wrong with their place. I told the alarm dispatch compnay representative that the resident owes me a christmas present for that kind of service...with a tow ban in effect, had I gotten stuck down in that neighborhood, well, lets just say it would be tomorrow or the next day before they would be allowed to come rescue me.

After that all was well...for awhile. I ate breakfast INSIDE the Mcdonald's where they had a cleared out parking lot. I needed to warm up and relax for a bit. Then I got called for 2 different alarms.....on the way to the second one was when I got stuck, as described above, by the shop. Then, my relief got his personal car stuck outside his driveway. I had to go pick him up. I got the patrol car stuck around the corner and a half block down from his place....more shoveling. I will be the first guy who dies of a hernia and a heart attack at the age of 30, along with hypothermia and some frostbite. This is honestly what I was thinking during this shoveling incident. But, we got out, got him to work. I shoveled my personal car out of its spot behind the shop so I could come home. I get on the road out to the main artery, where I got stuck again in the plow slushed mess. I used my cold wet booted feet as the shovel to kick everything out of the way, so my little car could actually get moving. Didn't matter at that point, I was ready to amputate with or without anesthesia anytime. My feet felt like blocks of ice, or frozen clubfoot.

The low fuel light was on. So I had to baby the car to the nearest accessible gas station. As I pull in, I see two guys stalking me. One with a camera, the other with a microphone. Having been, what I can assume was fully rested over the night while I worked, they came up and asked to interview me about my night and the weather.

You see, I really am that important. The local metro news needs MY opinion. However, I do have a face built for radio, and a voice for silent movies. I suspect any mention of me might be my name, and a recapping of my comments by the reporter with his pretty little made-for-tv face.

But now, it is time to warm my innards with coffee, and my feet somehow. In the army, they always taught us to put our cold hands either in our armpits or crotch to avoid frostbite and exposure issues, since those two areas are teh warmest on our bodies. I contemplated this with my feet, then realized I'm not that flexible to begin with, and there is no way that could be comfortable even if I did manage to cram my feet into my armpits or crotch like some advanced yoga pose.

I expect better working conditions tonight, or I just may quit. Should've listened to my wife and just stayed home from work last night. I blame my dad for instilling such a sense of responsibility in me...damn him anyways!

Life- Illustrated Through Calvin & Hobbes- Part 1

This post is to illustrate the basic understandings of life through a child's eyes. I have chosen my favorite childhood comic strip of Calvin and Hobbes as the visual aid.



Looking back on life, photos always provide us proof of our existence that was either prior to our ability to remember, or has merely escaped us.




While Mom may be the nurturer who we turn to for comfort, the lessons of life and the knowledge it contains, we glean from our all-knowing smart fathers. While they try to sound smart, their answers often leave us more confused than before we asked the questions. And of course, Dad is always one to try to push his antiquated values into our impressionable minds.



As you can see, Dad's values may have entered our minds, but they forgot that the steel trap that is a young child's mind, often releases the fruits of their labor in a different form!!





As more and more questions come, sooner or later Dad's Wisdom starts to come into question....usually after we mention something to Mom. Thus a more balanced, almost common sense approach, enters our growing minds.




At a young age, we accept Dad's wisdom blindly. Seed of doubt enter our minds through the years as we become more enlightened, and eventually we begin to question, if not outright deny, our Dad's intelligence (or his sanity for that matter). He should be thanking his wife, first and foremost, for such undermining of his authority. And yet, somehow it will be us children who will pay later for challenging his stances on life. I'm sure it has nothing to do with HOW we go about it all.