SGM defined: Strangely Good Mood

This morning I woke up in a SGM, which manifests itself in strange and unusual, and let’s be honest here — weird ways. It’s hard to miss when I’m in a SGM because I act, well, strange. For instance, I dance when there is no music. I singhum. (Singhum is when I sing out sounds to a song rather than sing the words or hum the melody.) I’m not always even sure what I’m singhumming. Sometimes I’m not singhumming anything but my own original composition.

But that’s not all. When I am in a SGM I am also known to change accents. My kids know this better than anyone. I’ll start talking to them with a Southern accent, which makes Maxine giggle uncontrollably (but really, what doesn’t make Maxine giggle uncontrollably?) and makes Autumn start talking back to me with a Southern accent of her own. (For the record, mine is better.) Or maybe I’ll do another accent that I can’t quite define.

I also tend to be a bit more physical than usual. This is when I am likely to grab an unsuspecting child (Only my own, by the way) and squish them in a hug and smoosh my lips up against their cheek for prolonged periods of time (something my own mother does in greeting/departing, by the way). It is a smothering experience.

This morning, Steve commented on my almost obnoxiously good mood (although he did not use the word obnoxious). In response, I rubbed my hands all over my face and attempted to give him a stern look. It was hard to pull off without giggling. I think I held it for .2 seconds — just long enough for Steve to recognize my attempt. I made him laugh. I like making him laugh. That just makes my SGM go up another notch.

I have no explanation for my SGM. I am just in a good place, and really, based on my life, I should really have more SGMs than I normally do. In fact, looking over how my morning started, there was no good explanation for my SGM. I was up at 4:30 a.m., grading student papers, which tends to be — well, it can be aggravating in the same way that a mom feels when she tells her child the same thing yet again (pick up after yourself/shut the door, were you born in a barn?/Don’t hit your sister/brother).

I like it when I’m in a SGM. It’s much better than when I am in a RDM (really dark mood). Alas, those happen everyonce in a while too. Although usually, Steve calls me on it, and I am able to consciously shake it off with minimal frown marks appearing on my forehead. (Or at least that’s my theory.) I won’t describe RDM’s right now other than I am really lucky my family still puts up with me after one of them.

I am the type of person who goes around without any expressoin on her face. People mistake this for frowning. You would not believe how many people (usually men) comment on the fact that I do not smile. This is usually said by strangers and at weird times. Why should I be smiling while standing in line at the grocery store or pumping my gas? It’s stupid. How many people go around with just a constant smile on their face?

But today, I am smiling for no apparent reason. I have a hard time keeping the smile off my face. I wonder if it will last throughout this really long day.

—

And this is a heads up for members of my family. Friday is a special day. Only two shopping days left until Mom’s birthday. How old is mom? Well, to figure this out I add the age she was when she gave birth to me to the age I will turn this year, but that won’t work for probably anyone else for me because the age she was when she gave birth to me isn’t common knowledge. Isn’t it strange that I keep track of my siblings and family members age by how old they were when I was born? The world apparently revolves around me.

Mom was 33 when she gave birth to me. I will turn 36 this year. Therefore, the equation is 33+36=69. Mom will be 69 on Friday, March 2.

Most people would use a simpler equation: 2007 (current year) minus 1938 (Mom’s birth year). 2007-1938=69. I use that equation all the time at work when I determine how old victims and suspects are when writing the police beat. Although if they have not yet had their birthday, I use 2006 instead of 2007…. (See SGM causes me to ramble and make strange connections. There was a reason for the warning….)

Now back to how I figure out how old people are — Steve and Shelley and several other members of The Luv Thang (my writing buddies who blog) were all born in 1971, the same year I was born (except for that AGK). Notice how I connect their birth to me.

My brother Keith was 11 years old when I was born. My sister Kari was 13 when I was born, and I was 13 when Kari’s youngest son, Tim, was born. Dee was 14 and Chuckie was 15. I was 22 when Autumn was born (35-22=13), which means she will be 13 this year (I use 35 because I had not yet had my birthday when Autumn was born).

And this is a heads up for me too. "Linda, you’re mother has already been complaining that you never call her anymore. Do not forget to contact her/do something/buy card and/or present for her birthday."

Happy early birthday, Mom!

—-

One more event thing to mention, which I kind of mentioned in my comments recently. On Sunday, March 4, it will be the 18th anniversary of my first date with the man who would eventually become my husband. It also marks the exact halfway point in my life when the years before "Steve and Linda" are equal to the years after "Steve and Linda." As of Mar. 5, the time I have lived with Steve as a part of my life will exceed the time I have lived without Steve as a part of my life. Eighteen years and happily counting more….

Or as Steve likes to put it, he’ll finally be able to trade me in for two younger LEGAL models.

Thanks for playing.

The other day I was talking to the new editor of the Herald-News about expenses. I think it came up because we were discussing cell phones and how much they cost. He had asked me if my kids had cell phones yet.

They don’t, but all four of them have asked for one. And I mentioned how the cell phone bill is just one more bill for something I used to be able to do without. I used to have just a telephone bill but now I have a telephone bill and a cell phone bill. So I’m paying lots more for phone service, and I’m not even that fond of talking on the phone. Although I do like having a cell phone.

And I can’t ditch my home phone because that’s how I have high speed DSL service, and there is NO way I want to go back to dial up service.

Then he mentioned cable TV. I don’t have cable, but I do have satellite. And more importantly, I have Tivo. I love my Tivo. If it wasn’t for Tivo, I would never be able to watch TV. I like being able to pause live TV when I get a phone call. I love that I don’t have to miss a TV program because I’m not home. And this is coming from someone who isn’t a real big TV watcher. I prefer books. But Tivo has changed all that. And now I am raising children who expect to be able to rewind, pause and fast forward through commercials. But again, how much am I paying for something when I used to be just fine with the 2.8 channels I could get with an antenna on a good day.

During this chat, I mentioned I should cut back on something. It’d be good for my budget, but what to choose?

Then like 10 minutes later I was telling him about the stove story and mentioned I should get a maid to prevent that kind of thing. He laughed, thinking of my budget cutting comment from not that long ago, which by the way I had already totally forgotten about making. He had to remind me. Yeah, a maid would be nice. I just don’t want to pay for one.

And then this weekend, I remembered. I don’t need a maid. I have children. I remembered this after my oldest daughter did all kinds of cleaning this weekend including that dirty mudroom. She did a very nice job. I was impressed.  Although, when she finished I noted she had failed to sweep at the far end where the dogs eat. She said she figured they’d just get it dirty again, so why bother? And then, after just a few nice even-toned comments from me, she swept back there too.

I’ve given Autumn a hard time lately because, well, because she was begging for money a lot and saying things like "I love you, Mom" when she really meant "Give me money, Mom." So I wanted to make sure that I gave her kudos for doing such a nice job this weekend cleaning.

I spent part of one day this weekend helping Justin clean his room. This is something that has been neglected for more than a year by me. And at 8, Justin isn’t quite up to doing it all by himself. For instance, some time ago he spilled a box that held a collection of rocks and shells including teeny tiny ones. And since then, you can find rocks and shells througout his room. At least until this weekend when I gathered them back up into a box.

When my husband was a teen, he’d have to weed the garden before he could go out on the weekends. Now that he’s an adult (and can go out whenever he likes), his parents’ garden doesn’t get weeded nearly as often. All of the live-in labor moved out.

I think I can wait a bit on the maid.

Tonight at dinner time, Autumn received a phone call. It was one of her friends letting her know school was cancelled for the next day (Monday).

A snow storm came in today (Sunday) lots of snow arrived. And ice. And wind. It’s bad. It’d the kind of day where you just want to stay home. So we did, mostly. (The kids went to Sunday School.) I even made a cake and helped Justin clean his room (major cleaning work, no explosions this time).

When the kids learned school was cancelled, they were a bit rowdy. They were excited. But four excited children in a house with snow surrounding you outside is not a good thing. And I began to wish that the kids did not yet know school tomorrow is cancelled. One child has already attempted to make plans to go to a friend’s house tomorrow. She wanted me to drop her off on my way to work. Except I might not be going to work either because when you work for a school, you get snow days too.

The children were also vying for a later bedtime since they don’t have school tomorrow. But we nixed that since we still have work. Steve has work, and I may have work.

The college closes when at least three of the larger schools that make up the college’s district closes. Three of the four districts have now closed.  The college hasn’t officially closed yet, but it’s close.

I keep checking the web site for a local TV station that lists school closings and delays. It is amazing to see how long it is growing with each click of the refresh button. And the latest click says Kirtland is closed.

Excuse me while I go bounce off my walls a bit. Not because school is closed, but because it’s unscheduled time I can use to catch up.

OH, and next week is Spring Break! Woohoo.

___

The memoir I’m writing is turning into a really long segmented essay. If you click on that link, you’ll see a definition provided by former CMU prof Robert Root titled "This is what the spaces say."

Basically, what I’m writing is not chronological. I juxtapose things that may seem unreleated because I want to make meaning by positioning them next to one another. It means my memoir is made up of lots of sections and the sections are divided by something.

The other day I was trying to figure out what that something should be. I opened up my Character Map and started looking at different symbols I could possibly use. When I first started writing, I wasn’t writing a segmented essay. Later it became one and I used this "***" to seperate the parts.

***

To find your Character Map (only good on a computer), go to your start button. Choose Programs. Then Accessories. Then System Tools. You’ll see Character Map. This is where you can find out how to make one of these: ©.

***

I’ve probably done this on my blog too. I also center them. But I wanted to find something a bit more interesting. And so I began my Character Map search. And I found the answer. It looks like this:  ₪.

It’s called a sheqel, which is an ancient symbol, a unit for weight. Perfect.

Yes, I know that technically it is Friday, but I am still working out the turmoil from Tuesday. It was a rough day on Tuesday.

I had been invited to a Pampered Chef party, and I really would have liked to have gone. It would have been fun. But alas, I had neglected to help Justin make his diarama during the weekend and according to my pint-sized calendar keeper, it was due Wednesday.

And so, Tuesday evening, the diarama became my number one priority. As we were making it, Justin mused, "Mom, why do you always wait until the last minute?" (Remember this. It’ll be important later.)

Ummm… Let’s see. On Monday night I had to go to a school board meeting for work. And prior to Monday, Justin hadn’t told me key things about what we were building. For instance, I didn’t know until Monday that a train was involved. Or woods.

So after work on Tuesday, I picked Amanda up from her Battle of the Books practice and made a beeline for the local craft store. Once there I picked up things like paint, paint brushes and materials to help Justin make his shoebox project.

Initially, I had hoped that I would still be able to get the project done in time to make my Pampered Chef party, but alas that did NOT happen. The project took longer than I expected. And when I finished with that, I was then pulled into helping Amanda with her math homework. By the time I finished helping my children with their homework, it was bedtime.

Things I did not get done Tuesday night that were really necessary for me to finish:

• Grading my student’s essays for ENG 103
• Grading my student’s profile articles for ENG 104
• Finishing my homework for my class ENG 615
• Writing my application letter for a summer writing workshop
• Rewrites on my memoir, and writing chapter two
• things I’m sure I am forgetting even now….

But when it was all over, Justin was so proud of his project. He had glued everything down all by himself using the hot glue gun, which was something he loved to do. And he painted the trees and river and decided where everything would go. All I did was paint the train boxcar red (so it’d match the story)and the background of the box (except where the river would go) green, and, of course, altering that bridesmaid scrapbook girl so she looked like she lived in a train boxcar.

Wednesday morning as the kids were getting ready for school, I offered to take Justin’s project to school for him. He looked at me with a doubtful look on his face.

J: Will you get it there in time for reading?

Me: What time is your reading class? In the afternoon or morning?

J: In the morning.

Me: I’ll get it there in time.

J: (another doubtful look at me) I’ll just take it on the bus.

This kid is only 8 and already having trust issues….

On Wednesday evening, as I drove down to Mt. Pleasant for class, I decided to give Justin a call to see how his shoebox project was received at school. The phone call went something like this….

J: Who is this?

Me: Mom.

J: Why are you calling me?

Me: Because I wanted to know about your diarama. How did it go?

J: Good, but I made a mistake.

Me: (thinking  he must have messed up the story scene) What was wrong?

J: I thought it was due today. It’s due next Wednesday.

Me:

Me:

Yeah. NEXT Wednesday.

The phone call continued. Justin declared his shoebox project his favorite out of everybody’s. That’s good.

And now, I must go and do all the things I didn’t get done Tuesday night (well, except it really is too late to attend that party…).

—

I had a change of plans today. I was supposed to meet with my professor this afternoon to discuss my memoir. However, he called to reschedule for next Friday. That means I will be going to Roscommon to attend the editorial meeting I would have otherwise missed today. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I really am only sharing this on my blog so my husband will know about my change of plans and therefore know where his wife wandered off to.

Scratch that. I’m staying home today. It’s been too long since I’ve done that.