Scenes from a Marriage

School's been in for about five months here on the sandbar, and this semester I've added a course to my teaching repertoire. In addition to teaching the youth of the country how to string five words together to construct a professional sentence, I am now teaching this same group of students that 1 + 1 equals increased assets which improves the balance sheet and if you're a sole proprietor, a partnership or even a corporation, all that added together is a very good thing. In other words, I'm teaching Introduction to Accounting.

Those that know me well, know that I have NEVER considered myself someone that's adept at anything mathematical. I mean, I'm the one that reaches for an excel spreadsheet to check if 49 divided by 7 really equals, uhm, 7. (It does, by the way). So, when they asked me to teach this course too, I was a little bit apprehensive (just a little).

Starting last November I've been cramming and have learned that assets = liabilities plus owner's equity. Accumulated amortization is indeed a contra asset. The income statement is linked to the statement of owner's equity which is tied to the balance sheet and holy smokes, you have to report in a timely manner because some group of monks sitting around Renaissance Florence decided to invent the "Rules of Accounting" and those celibate bastards decided that having a single entry accounting system wasn't good enough....so they created a double entry accounting system and no-one in the last 500 years has come up with a more simplified system, so, YES, the GAAP Timeliness rule says you must report your information at regular and consistent intervals and holy shit, I cannot believe I now know this stuff!!!

Ahem.

I've learned a lot in the last few months. I teach the course in four different modules and as I work my way through my first rotation teaching this course there are many days when I am but one page ahead of my students. Read a page, teach a page has, on occasion, been my strategy - especially in my current module of adjusting entries.

In my attempt to gain some space between my learning and the students' learning, I was laying about in bed on a quiet Sunday morning recently, with Buzz snoring softly beside me. As I lay there I was planning Monday's lesson in my head, trying to figure out a way to make the theory & numbers jump off the page for my students. Upon awaking Buzz rolled over, snuggled in and asked what I was thinking about.

"Unadjusted Trial Balances" was my reply.

At which point my husband, the Accountant, sat bolt upright in bed and said "BABY!! I CAN'T BELIEVE AFTER ALL THIS TIME, YOU'RE LYING IN BED TALKING ACCOUNTING - THAT'S SO HOT!"

All Aboard!

Regular readers (which I'm hoping are still out there, given that I haven't posted anything in almost a month - damn that accounting course!!) may recall that a few months ago our beastly boy had emergency surgery. As part of his recovery efforts he had to take a few ugly horse pills and while this is the most food motivated dog I've ever known, getting him to take his medicine like a man was asking a bit much after he'd had his neck sliced and diced. So we began disguising his medication in the form of a venison meatball. Twice a day we'd give him a dog food meatball spiked with antibiotics and pain meds and then scoop a spoonful or two on top of his regular dry food to encourage him to keep eating and building his strength. To be fair, of course, we also gave the Gidge a spoonful of the venison treat as well.

Little did we know those few innocent meatballs and spoons full of ground up elk parts would lead us down the tracks to the Gravy Train.

After we were done medicating Snicks I couldn't bring myself to feed him dry dog food for every meal - even though that's what he's eaten for 11 years now. No, because he was a recovering patient, I continued to spike his dry food with something wet and tasty. The extra special venison dog food was like $4 a can - talk about a gourmet treat, so I went in search of a more economical substitute and I found it in the grocery store in the gravy & sauce aisle. For .69 a can I loaded up on cans of Heinz gravy and at breakfast and dinner I spiked both their dishes with a drizzle of gravy - you know, just to keep it interesting.

Well holy smokes. The reaction at meal time from these two animals can only be compared to a meth-addict jonesin' for a fix. Our typical routine is to let the dogs out before their meal and ever since we introduced the two to the joys of the Heinz family of gravies they have never peed faster in their lives. As soon as they're done they're back at the door ready to get on board the Gravy Train. Just as if they were trying to make the 5:15 run from New York to Connecticut, these two race through the house, sliding around the corners, wiping out around the kitchen island, skidding into their bowls, tails wagging, feet flying and tongues drooling at the prospects of the ambrosia in their bowls. Snicks attacks his food like a barbarian while the Gidge acts like the Queen of England, double cutting each slice of kibble to savour every last drop of gravy.

Afterward, bellies full, passed out on the living room floor the two of them snooze the rest of the day away, dreaming about the day they'll be upgraded from gravy to poutine.

Resolute

I hate this time of year. Christmas is over...New Year's too and what do we (those of us living north of the 49th parallel) have to look forward to? Four more months of crap weather, little sunshine and if you have the extra special pleasure of living "down east" you have that never-ending-until-I-just-might-go-crazy-because-it's-so-freakin-bitter wind that just never seems to stop blowing.

But I digress. That is not why I hate this time of year.

I hate this time of year because of all those fools out there that suddenly decide NOW, right NOW, one or two days after imbibing copious amounts of alcohol and fat-laden foods for weeks, nay months on end, NOW, is the time to start going to the gym. I think they must be the same people that go to church only Easter and Christmas.

Anyway, who am I to judge who comes to the gym and who takes up space and who doesn't know the basic instructions for getting the eliptical to actually work? Who am I to judge the people that jump on a treadmill WITHOUT SIGNING IN FOR THE MACHINE and then proceed to overstay their allotted twenty-minutes? Who am I to judge the good folks that come to the gym and start (hear me now, I said start) their health regime by attempting to lift 40kgs using nothing but their hamstrings and then watch as they LOUDLY drop the weights because, hey, um, having no muscles and trying to lift 40kgs with only your hamstrings is maybe a bit ambitious? Who, just who am I to judge?

I'll tell you who I am. Just like those nice people that show up at church 52 weekends a year, I'm the person that goes to the gym all year long. I'm the person that knows you need to reserve a treadmill. I'm the person that knows there's a 20-minute limit for using the treadmill. I'm the person that knows how every single one of those freaking machines of torture works and most importantly, I'M THE PERSON WHO CAN'T GET ON ANY OF THOSE FREAKING MACHINES BECAUSE ALL THE NEWLY RESOLVED HEALTH-NUTS ARE MONOPOLIZING THEM!

So, you can see why I hate this time of year?

The good news is that just like the holiday season itself, the "I Resolve to Get Fit in 20___(fill in the blank)" season lasts only about 3 weeks. In a matter of twenty-one short days the "I'm going to be so healthy you won't recognize me because I am so committed to the cause" people will start dropping like cupcakes, until one day I'll show up at the gym and it will be my regular sanctuary of torture.

We've only got 16 more days to go.

I can hardly wait.