Only a Little Bit Forced......

If you've read my blog for a while, you have probably come across my obsession with numbers. (I think I should have been a math teacher, but Mr. College Calculus scared me away.)

I have made a wish at 11:11 since I was a teenager.

When I ride my bike, I make a wish if my computer reads 11.11 (that's miles). Or 22.22. 33.33. You get the idea. I also think it's cool when the time elapsed reads something like 1:23:45 or 2:34:56.

Yesterday I got on the website for Georgia Athletics (duh, like I don't do that a gazillion times a day), and the site has a countdown to the next football game. (I'm trying not to take issue with the fact that there are no such countdowns for gymnastics. Can you say discrimination?)

Check out the time (at that point) to kickoff for Saturday's game. I had to do a screen capture VERY quickly before it clicked down to the next second. No, I did NOT sit on the site for 30 minutes and wait for it to tick down. I don't have the patience for that.

I will be the first to admit that it takes very little to entertain me.

By the Numbers......

5 - School days left until Christmas Break.

95 - School days left until retirement.

30,000 - Number of people Katydid and I estimate were in attendance at today's memorial service for Larry Munson, the legendary voice of the Georgia Bulldogs for 42 years.

15 - Seconds of fame I may or may not have acquired by being interviewed by an Atlanta television station before the start of the memorial service.

0 - Number of those seconds I got to see on the news, despite having set my DVR, due to the fact that a football game ran over into the newscast and the DVR wasn't smart enough to keep recording.

99 - Probability out of 100 that I sounded like an idiot on television.

0 - Number of dollars I spent at the UGA bookstore today. Sure I left my purse in the car, but it wasn't THAT far, and I could have easily gone to get it.

84 - Number of dollars on the price tag of a sweater for which I was seriously lusting. At least I couldn't make an impulse purchase.

45 - Minutes I spent on the elliptical today. A Saturday!!

0 - Number of cake pops I ate when I took them to school on Friday.

1,000,000,000 - Brownie points I would like to put in the bank by combining the above two items.

4 - Thanksgiving pounds I still need to lose.

15 - Days until Christmas Day.

1 - Probability out of 100 that I will lose those pounds before Christmas.

17 - Days until Hubby and I go to Atlantic City for our Christmas trip.

0 - Amount of post-Christmas debt Hubby and I will have.

13 - Level I've reached on Angry Birds.

27 - Days until the college gymnastics season begins. Go Gym Dogs! Go Utes!

Some Numbers......

20 - Number of rows I have left to crochet on the baby afghan I'm making for a friend of Sweet Girl. Then the border, which is kind of a beeyotch.

5 - Number of future crochet projects I have in mind for when I finish this one. I won't let myself begin a new one until the current one is finished, else I would have a gazillion partially crocheted items all over my house.

90 - Temperature of the water in our pool this afternoon. We knew some people who ordered a dump truck load of ice for their pool one year. We are NOT considering that.

0 - Number of songs I liked in our Zumba class tonight. And it was the TUESDAY class, which I usually LOVE! (Tuesday instructor just got back from Zumba convention with the Thursday girl. I think she's gone over to the dark side.)

2 - Number of pounds I've gained (and am having a hard time shedding) since running the Peachtree.

2 - Number of days before our final weigh-in for the summer weight loss challenge.

66 - Miles I am planning to ride my bicycle tomorrow with Rozmo and about 12-13 other folks. We're riding the Silver Comet Trail, which is a very cool rails-to-trails path, but I have to drive almost two hours just to get there.

95 - Expected high temperature tomorrow while I'll be on said bike ride.

3 - Hours it will probably take me to get home, since I will be joining a bazillion of my closest friends in Atlanta rush hour traffic.

210 - Calories in an Arby's Junior Roast Beef. The Junior! Who knew?

2 - Arby's Junior Roast Beef sandwiches I had for lunch today. (I think I may be onto the mystery of those 2 pounds.)

43 - Minutes I stayed asleep last night. I finally got up and came downstairs so my tossing and turning wouldn't bother Hubby. Yeah, right.

2.5 - Hours I stayed up, crocheting and playing Mario Brothers on the Wii.

43 - Minutes I stayed asleep once I went back to bed.

3 - Times I have cleaned my bicycle, including the chain and derailleurs.

0 - Times I cleaned my last three bicycles combined.

16.05 - Amount my medical supply folks love to charge me after my insurance has paid. I send them a check, then they send me one back. For $16.05. I don't know why either.

67 - Times I have kicked myself for interrupting my sister's blessing when we had lunch last Saturday. It was rude and irreverent, even for me. I still feel bad about it. It wasn't worth the laugh it got.

142 - Dollars it cost to fill the motorhome with fuel today. It wasn't near as bad as I expected it to be.

2 - Channels we were able to pick up with just the antenna in the motorhome. Oh, you meant English-speaking channels? Then it was zero. Good thing we have a satellite.

100 - Dollars I saved buying RV parking passes for individual football games this fall instead of a season pass.

304 - The section in Sanford Stadium where our season football tickets are located. It's right up there next to the sun. Row 13.

50 - Yard line where I would have season tickets if I hadn't relinquished them all those years ago. I'm sure we would have found SOME way to buy groceries....

6 - Hour at which I need to get up tomorrow morning in order to drive 2 hours to ride my bike 66 miles in 95-degree heat. What is WRONG with me??????

By the Numbers.....

200 - School days I have left before I retire. Hell yeah I'm counting. That's 20 left in this year plus 180 next year. Unless the rumors about possible furlough days next year are true, in which case I will gladly alter the number of days I have left.

18 - Miles I rode my bike today AFTER spending most of the day with my mother. Which turned out to be much less stressful than I had pictured it. She just had knee replacement surgery, and she's still in a heck of a lot of pain.

10 - Miles I rode AFTER I met Hubby on his way home from the golf course and he offered to take me home. Turning down the offer of a ride in the truck might be a first for me.

3 point something - Miles I RAN in the park yesterday. In spite of the fact that my not-so-smart-phone said 1 point something. And then erased all evidence that I had done anything at all. Believe me, my hips know I ran yesterday.

0 - Number of times we were able to get Weesa's psycho dogs to go outside in the five days we've been taking care of them. They aren't socialized very well at all, and they bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark run under the bed bark bark bark bark bark bark the whole time we're in the house. It's extremely difficult to medicate dogs when you have to stick the pills-disguised-in-a-piece-of-lunch-meat under the bed.

0 - Degree of certainty that the right dog got the right medicine. 

2 - Number of times one of the psycho dogs bit Hubby.

0 - Redeeming qualities those dogs have. I told Hubby I was going to come home and cook a filet mignon for Gus.

1798 - Number of miles left to ride my bike to meet my goal for 2011. It sounds intimidating, but I'm actually ahead of schedule. Sort of.

3 - Number of evening meals I have to prepare this week. Hubby is leaving town on Thursday.

6 - Hours I have to drive after school on Friday to join Hubby at the casino.

1,785,881 - Number of times I've tried to get out of joining Hubby at the casino on Friday.

16 - Times Hubby has asked if I could miss school on Friday, when another teacher is already going to be out. With a staff of five teachers (four and a half, really), having two people out puts a burden on the rest. Hubby refuses to get it.

9 - Pairs of jeans, capris, and shorts I bought with my 30% coupon last week. All in a new size, one I haven't worn for a long, long time. I tried on every single one of them, convinced it was a fluke when the first one fit.

1 - Times I've ridden the Harley this year.

35 - Dollars I spent for a dorky-looking helmet that was supposedly **REQUIRED** for my kayak trip this summer, only to find out from Rozmo that we don't really need it. So glad I kept the receipt. I have a terrible habit of throwing receipts away.

2 - Numbers we had right in the lottery Friday night. Guess I'd better go to school tomorrow after all.

By the Numbers......

I'm going to come clean here and say that I play a lot of mind games with numbers.

There, it doesn't look nearly as freaky as I thought it was.

It all started way back when I was a teenager, and my cousin came to visit. I had just gotten my first DIGITAL clock, and she probably already had one. One night when the clock read 11:11, she said you were supposed to make a wish.

I got hooked, always making a wish if I caught the clock reading 11:11. It only counts if it's a digital clock, of course.

I added the stipulation that you couldn't TELL anyone what you were wishing. Maybe that's the rule for all wishes.

I taught for 8 years at the same high school, and all the rooms had digital clocks. Somehow the wishing at 11:11 thing spread to my students, and once it started, there was no stopping it.

The STUDENTS added the stipulation that in addition to stopping to make a wish at 11:11, everyone had to remain SILENT until the clock switched to 11:12. It was easier to go along with them than to try to fight it. Besides, sometimes that was the only peaceful minute I had in the whole day.

One time there were visitors from UGA in my classroom. Not the usual student teacher types, but real live professors, important people.

When the clock turned to 11:11, I continued teaching, trying with all my might to remain professional. My students immediately began saying rather indignantly, "Hey, it's 11:11!" and shushing me and each other. I gave up and stood there in silence until the clock read 11:12, then I carried on as if there had been no interruption. I'm sure the visitors wondered into what altered dimension they had ventured.

At some point I decided that 4:07 was a good time too, since that's my birthday. I make a wish if I see the clock read 4:07, which almost always happens in the afternoon on my way home from school. Rarely do I see 4:07 AM, unless of course that is the time that Hubby wakes me up to travel home from the casino.

When I started cycling, this obsession with numbers extended to my odometer. I don't exactly make a wish, but if I see the mileage read 11.11, I think it's a sign that it's going to be a good ride. I've never actually examined the data to see if it plays out. If I have a bad ride, like a flat tire or a fall, I don't know that I'm ever thinking about the mileage when that happens.

I know it doesn't seem like a big deal, but keep in mind that I don't look at the odometer CONSTANTLY. I do occasionally look at the road, turn signs, scenery, dogs that pose a potential threat, traffic, and other cyclists. If I miss 11:11, it's not like I can turn around and go back. Or put it in reverse, as I once read about a young driver doing to try to conceal the miles he had put on his father's car over a weekend.

I'm convinced that my mind games with numbers absolutely saved my sanity during one particular century ride. I was riding alone, and I managed to see the matching digits at every possible time for a century ride: 11.11, 22.22, 33.33, 44.44, 55.55, 66.66, 77.77, 88.88, and 99.99. I felt like I had scored a major victory.

I've played other numbers games on my bike. Like if I've ridden 15.2 miles and I look down and notice that I'm going 15.2 mph. My new computer, however, shows hundredths on the mileage and not on the mph, so they don't every match.

I'm less likely to play such silly games when I'm captaining the tandem, since I have Katydid to talk to and keep me from going insane.

Some of you are probably thinking that it's too late for that.

By the Numbers.....

50: Number of students who inquired about working on their online curriculum this week, in spite of the fact that we are on Fall Break.

5: Number of students who have actually worked so far.

4: Increase in number of students working over the number I expected to do so.

300: Number of dollars worth of stuff (mostly for the motorhome) we bought today.

200: Number of dollars we actually had to pay due to a 30% off coupon at our favorite department store.

600: Number of dollars I would likely have spent had Hubby not been with me.

1: Number of former NCAA champion gymnasts I saw in the department store with her new baby.

22: Number of online assignments waiting to be graded for my part-time job. Not too bad, considering the fact that I was gone all day today and my motivation is nonexistent.

12: Number of days late my September check was for the part-time online job when I received it today.

5: Number of apologies we've received that we weren't being paid.

3: Number of contract addendum packages I received and returned ON TIME for the part-time online job.

0: Explanations received for why we got contract addendums.

40: Number of rows I've crocheted on my latest baby afghan.

82: Number of rows I have yet to crochet.

73: Number of times I've regretted starting this baby afghan.

4: Days left in my Fall Break.

2: Number of chores I've accomplished on Fall Break.

494: School days left until retirement.

By the Numbers......

Has it occurred to anyone else how much of life seems to be related to a number? And kids ask why they have to learn math...

When we are born, we are assessed and given an Apgar score. Mine was a 9.5. That's a lie. I don't have any idea what my Apgar score was. I didn't think they even had them when I was born in 1961, so I looked it up and saw that Dr. Virginia Apgar developed the number in 1952. Sadly, I don't even know what Sweet Girl's Apgar score was. It was bad enough that she happened to be born without the services of a doctor, who was apparently hanging out in the doctors' lounge and hoping my labor went on for a while. Not only did I not have an epidural, I didn't even have an episiotomy. Nuff said. Apgar score was not high on my list of things to care about at the time of her birth. She was kept in an incubator away from the other babies because she had a "contaminated" birth. If it hadn't been for my baby daddy, she would have a contaminated birth on the floor, but he caught her.

Then we start school, and of course it's all about grades. We're ranked in our graduating class, everyone wants to know our SAT scores, then we get to college and it's all about the GPA. After college it's about the starting salary, how much your car cost, how many square feet your house has, even what zip code you live in. You're judged based on how many children you have (can't have zero, but can't have too many either) and how many marriages/relationships (ditto). Jewelry must have a certain number of carats of stone and gold.

We use numbers to refer to our computer's speed and memory size. (Did you guys notice that they are advertising computers and devices with a certain number of TETRABYTES now?) Number of jobs. Years worked. Anticipated social security benefit. Years to retirement.

Size of our clothes is important. Height (less for women, more for men). Weight (ditto, up to a point). By the way, when I went for my check-up the day after Thanksgiving, I refused to step on the scale. It was so liberating. But I did wear a bra. And make-up.

All this randomness is the result of receiving my credit score in the mail last week. We signed up for legal services, and one of the services they offered was identity theft protection. I figured it was a good thing to do, as much information as I tend to transmit over the internet. At one time I had some iffy things on my credit report, the result of having been married to a person whose philosophy about paying bills is that you shouldn't have to pay anyone who already has more money than you do. And unfortunately I'm still listed on his mortgage, the house that I pretty much paid for the six years I lived there, but it sat on property that had belonged to his grandparents, and it wasn't worth fighting for.

I was surprised how anxious I felt opening that envelope, as if my worth as a human being would be contained in the numbers inside. I found myself skipping past all the explanations, just wanting to get to the bottom line. (I was pleasantly surprised.) Even at my age, at this stage of my life, 1270 days to retirement, it's still all about the numbers.

If I Only Had a Brain.....

Actually, if my brain only worked like a computer.

I was signing a student's agenda for permission to go to the bathroom/office/water fountain today (see, I can't remember THAT, but..... that inability will become important here in just a moment or two) when I realized today was my ex's birthday.

I don't NEED that information.

Why can't I just delete random facts I no longer need? I don't EVER intend to send him another card. I DO NOT wish him a happy birthday. I only wish he would STOP HAVING birthdays. Okay, maybe that's a little harsh. Unless, of course, you know him. (He is not my baby daddy, so it's okay for me to feel that way.)

I can recite random zip codes of towns all over Georgia. Mom used to own a mailing service (they specialized in junk mail, but I'm not allowed to use that term), and I've been addressing envelopes and typing addresses all my life. So it used to come in quite handy to be able to spout off zip codes without having to look them up.

I don't NEED that information anymore.

It can be quite embarrassing. A few years ago, on a bike ride (of course), I met a man who said he was from Perry, Georgia. Before I could stop myself, I said "31069." He picked up his cafeteria tray and moved to another table, if I recall correctly.

A co-worker came into my classroom the other day asking about pizza deliveries in our town, and I reeled off the phone number of not one but two of them. Okay, one of them has our home phone number but with the digits in reverse order, but the other one I haven't had a reason to call in probably 15 years. And they stopped delivering years ago.

I don't NEED that information.

I remember license plate numbers of people I was in high school with. Cheryl (DAU555) and Ronnie (CAC500) and Amanda (ENG300) stopped driving those cars thirty years ago. They've probably been crushed and melted. So why am I cluttering up my brain with useless information?

If only our brains could be like computers. With the click of a mouse, we could delete unwanted files, defrag the hard drive, and make more room in our brains for stuff we really need. Like where I might have put that $30 and grocery store receipt from a couple of weeks ago.