Sunday, October 30, 2011

But it all worked out

I did flunk my Differential Equations test on Tuesday, but a) I flunked it with a 20% higher grade than I had been expecting, and b) the exact problem my tutor and I had worked on for an hour and a half the night before was problem #6 (of 7) on the test. Which without a doubt contributed to a). Also, when my teacher handed the test back to me on Thursday, he said that he thought I could make a 90% or even 100% on the next one, and I do believe he is correct. While we're on the subject, any of my Differential-Equations-knowing-relatives who has time and feels like discussing LaPlace Transforms is welcome to call tomorrow (Halloween) morning, any time before 10:30 Eastern Standard time.

My car died, like, REALLY dead, about three quarters of an hour in to Thursday morning, but it did so within easy walking distance of my friends' house that I had just left. Ha! So I went back and stayed the night, and spent most of the rest of Thursday with said friend and felt much less crazy afterward.

You were feeling crazy, you ask? Well, yes...

The food for yesterday's service activity was making me feel crazy because I was in charge of it (the food, not the whole activity, thank goodness)--but, as per the title of this post, it worked out. I ordered (in case you were wondering) 72 pieces of fried chicken from the deli at the grocery store which is close to our house; bought 12 lbs. of potato salad and 6 lbs. of cole slaw (which were both on sale! for 1/4 the price they would normally have been), from that same deli; and looked at the expiration dates on the cookies and the brownies I bought, feeling very clever in buying ones that were the freshest. And my sweet roommate, who was able to make it to the activity, said that there was exactly one piece of fried chicken left over afterward. Whew! I had been so worried! Because, the chicken was the biggest per-item expense, and also is more difficult to send home with people safely*, but heaven forbid you actually be skimpy on how much chicken you serve--so it's important (=stressful) to guess well both how many people are coming and how much they will eat. Silly though it sounds, I do feel like I got some help from Heavenly Father on that decision.

(And next time I will try harder to get more people involved. I was just really short on working brain cells this week, notwithstanding my claims of having done comparatively fabulously well on both tests I took this week.)

(Also, the next student who tells me that they hate story problems-- I'm just going to make them imaginarily Mormon for a moment, and let them be in charge of figuring out how much food of which kind to get for the next ward party. After that, they will (I am sure) BEG me to be allowed to go back to the nice, simple problems they have in their books.)

I "najahht" (suceeded) on my Linear Algebra test on Friday. (Some words are just better in Arabic.) It's true that I didn't answer one of the questions, but I felt completely confident on the vast majority of the others. Also, I did so poorly on the first test of the semester that it would actually be difficult not to improve on it. Heh.

I have to preface this next story with an explanation. My esteemed brother-in-law, Dr. Weathercolour, is 1/3 Maori and while he says that his dad claimed that their tribal group were not among those that participated in certain practices which I shall not spell lest they bring people searching for them to my blog, Mr. Weathercolour himself says that he is not so sure. Thus, his jokes about the fact that the Maori word for white folks (which would include all of his wife's immediate family) is "long pig". Also, his children have picked up on this strain of humor. Also, we (the Pale Ones) have maybe picked up on it a bit ourselves. I can certainly tell you that Mr. Weathercolour is solely responsible for the fact that I now always invite friends to come "to dinner" rather than "for dinner".

Long explanation for a short story. Sorry.

Papa was watching the younger members of the Weathercolour set so that Dr. and Mrs. Weathercolour could go to a fireside this evening. "What shall we do?" he asked them. "You want to tie me to a stake and burn me?"

Sroon: "Bor-ing." But later, he proposed that Grandpa would taste good with Barbecue sauce, so perhaps they shall have some fun tonight...

*It's not that I expect the dead-and-fried chicken to get up and start trying to hijack anyone's car or something, but I do expect people to perhaps forget and leave it on the counter for a little too long before putting it in the fridge.


Sister Mary Martha said...

the Patron saint for car troubles is Mother Frances Cabrini. Her feast day was just last Sunday.

SAC said...

Gracious! I should check my comments more often!

Thank you, both for commenting and for the information on Mother Cabrini. I have come to the conclusion that there must be some sort of divine intervention going on with this car, given its propensity for breaking down in only the most non-dangerous places (for which I am duly, and truly, thankful).

If I were to pick an honorary patron saint, however (to have an actual one, I do believe I'd have to be actually Catholic) I would have to go with Mother Theresa. I have long appreciated her as an elect lady, to be both admired and emulated.