Skip to main content

I Can't Believe I Still Had These

Whilst in my nesting phase, I've been organizing. Sometimes that means moving piles of crap from one place to another. Just moving it. Sometimes it means actually ridding myself of whatever crappola is there. The following almost caused me to have an anxiety attack. Talk about flying back to the old school days. Yikes!

I totally blew the SAT. I couldn't bring myself to post my score. And I took the test nearly 20 years ago. Double yikes.

I loved the ASVAB. It was my favorite "mandatory" test there was. I did pretty well on it but still couldn't get in the military. Bah.

The ACT. I did pretty decent but I've never liked the pressure of tests. I always choked. Kinda like the Vikings. Gosh, that was low lady. So low.

I clearly wasn't as nervous with the PSAT given that I wrote our class "motto" on the bottom. Enjoy that little tidbit.
You're welcome.

This weekend: Sample questions, pathetic attempts to answer them and my sad, sad scores.
On the upside? I knew I was a horrible "textbook" student yet I had high aspirations for what colleges I wanted to attend. I actually cried when I didn't get into Carthage even though every guidance counselor I had warned me that hell would have to freeze over first before my grades ever got me in there. Way to encourage. Great job.


Popular posts from this blog

One Of These Things Is Not Like The Other

When was the first time that you realized that your home was not like other people’s homes? 

My house has always been different from other houses. I don't think I could narrow it down to a particular time. I recall not having friends stay over. Ever. I always stayed at all my friends' houses and called their moms "Mom".

Not a lot of my friends were only children so to them, I was the odd duck. Believe me, I *was* the odd duck. Just for a myriad of other reasons.

Having a family of my own, I really see the differences in houses. We are more relaxed with some things that would not fly in other houses. It gets loud in our house. Extremely loud. If I stopped them from being loud all the time, I wouldn't get a single thing done. I tend to jump in right away when the kids are arguing because it can, and will, quickly snowball into WWIII and someone (or both) will be crying. We let our son play the Wii, computer or DS for far longer than other parents or even the "…


Please do not ask me to email photos out, I get entirely too many requests for them. These are the ones that I have at home, thanks to a couple of sources.

This Has To Be Said

I haven't blogged in 8 months. We bought a house, still unpacking, school started. You know, life. I felt the need, the urgent need to blog about the Adrian Peterson situation today. I am full of all sorts of feelings and had to write about it. I would love to hear your thoughts on this whole thing. No really, I would. I don't feel I was a douchebag in my writing so all I ask is you not be a douchebag in your response. Thanks.

My thoughts on the Adrian Peterson situation (but first, some backstory):
I was spanked as a child. I'm pretty sure most of us that grew up in the 80s were.Until the summer between 5th and 6th grade I lived in Charelston, SC and from 6th to 11th grade, North Chicaco, IL. I have seen every form of discipline doled out on a child. I've seen spankings, beatings, hairbrushes smacked into heads, spoons hitting the tops of heads, whips, belts and even switches. I've seen it all.Most of you know that my son is named after a little boy who died from c…