The ruby download is complete.  I can’t say I understand fully what I have done.  I can say I couldn’t do it again, even if you DID pay me.  My screen shots to prove to the prof that I accomplished this are very odd; for some reason they incorporate not just the screen shot of the web page I created, but also a shot of my desktop image, Katie in her crate.  Drats.  I need to fix that before I submit the homework.  Or not.  Maybe the prof would LIKE to see Katie looking woefully out of her crate.

After I finished the assignment yesterday evening, about 8 hours after I sat down to work on what was supposed to be a 15 minute assignment, the professor emailed that he had created yet another podcast to explain away some of the issues I ran into.  He urged me to review the podcast even though I was finished with the assignment.  I’ll do that next.  I feel like I have to stay ahead of the game in order to merely keep up.  He says next week he will give less instruction…that doesn’t sound good to me.  He thinks this work is trivial and we’ll move right along into the real world of computer languages.  I’m treading water now, with a feeling that drowning is a distinct possibilty in the very near future.

Meanwhile it’s very cold here, with the wind blowing, the sun shining and snow on the ground I am grateful to be inside with nowhere to go.  No excuses not to read and listen to more computer jargon.  Someday I will make that jargon mine.  Maybe even before the midterm!

Having now spent 2.5 hours more on installing Ruby I am exhausted.  Could that be because little Miss Katie was indeed up at 5:30 this morning?  Or because I am just frustrated as #*($ with this installation?  Maybe both.

I have the stuff installed.  I think.  Now I am on to the actual assignment that is to be handed in.  The first sentence of which is “Use jEdit to modify a file in your Rails application under the public folder.”  Well.  I don’t HAVE a public folder.  Not that I can find anyway.  So I have closed it all down to take a break.  Maybe I’ll clean out the pantry, that sounds like more fun than working on this any further.

Katie has gone back to sleep.  Of course. 

And another thing…I just got an email from brother P who has learned that a Tennessee minister, his wife and their two children were killed yesterday when the van they were in, which was stopped in traffic, was rear ended by a semi truck.  Sounds too familiar.  They were out helping people that had lost family members to the tornados.  This is another stunning loss for their community.  He was fifty-one.  Kids were 11 and 14.  I will need to find out more about the crash, what the cause was, but it sounds like another tired trucker.

It’s after midnight, Friday night, and I can’t get my next program in the web design class to download.  It’s pretty complicated, at least for me, and the instruction sheet (all nine pages of it) and the 13 minute podcast which I have reviewed twice have only confused me more.  Though the course is supposed to be for people without web design experience, it is obvious that SOME computer experience would have made this easier.  The underlying knowledge of basic computer giberish would have been a good thing to have.

For example, my instructions say things like “switch to the proper drive and into the ruby directory.”  Right.  What and where is the proper drive?    “Enter the rus command, this will add ruby and rails to your path.”  Right again.  “Create a sample application with the sqlite3 as the database.”  OMG.   To be fair, there ARE intricate instructions under each of these headings.  But honest I have no idea where I went wrong.  My application won’t open after hours of messing with this.

So I have sent out a SOS to the class, maybe some kind hearted fellow student will come to my aid.  Meanwhile, Katie has gone to sleep, not a good sign, because she will be wide awake and bouncing on the bed come early morning, which isn’t that many  hours away.

I hope tomorrow goes better.  I am giving the whole day over to getting this application installed.  The professor said this was a “mindless” assignment and would only take about 5 minutes.  I’ve spent more than four hours on it and am nowhere.  I think perhaps it is me that is mindless.

A disadvantage of having your Dad killed by a tired trucker who worked for a very large national trucking line is that you see their trucks everywhere. I rarely make my daily 100 mile round trip to Ann Arbor without seeing at least one of these brightly colored trucks each way. Usually I see more. In the days and weeks after the crash catching a glimpse of one of these trucks caused a knife sharp pain to radiate through my body. Now, a little more than three years later, I don’t feel such deep pain, but they never fail to remind me of who I lost. And I am always saddened.

So it was a nice surpirse this morning on my way to Ann Arbor, and again on my way headed north about two hours later, to see a State Trooper in an SUV on the side of the road behind a semi truck. Apparently they are stopping trucks, maybe random inspections, maybe for cause. Either way, I’m glad to see some evidence of someone keeping an eye on trucks moving through our state. I wanted to stop and give the trooper a big thumbs up, but figured that would appear pretty weird to a cop.

And on the radio on my trip home a song caught my ear. Dad wasn’t born a farmer or in a small southern town, but he lived in the south, in small towns, for almost 25 years. I think he would have been proud to be considered a “Small Town Southern Man.” Partial lyrics from the Alan Jackson song are below:

And he bowed his head to Jesus
And he stood for Uncle Sam
And he only loved one woman
(He) was proud of what he had
He said his greatest contribution
Is the ones you leave behind
Raised on the ways and gentle kindness
Of a small town Southern man
Finally death came callin’
For this small town Southern man
He said it’s alright ’cause I see angels
And they got me by the hand
Don’t you cry, and don’t you worry
I’m blessed, and I know I am
‘Cause God has a place in Heaven
For a small town Southern man

Yesterday, as the weather got worse I was working at one of the library’s branches on a special project.  Next to me were a couple of library employees worried about their drive home later that evening.  I was just finishing around 5, but they were working till 9 and were very worried about their drive back to their homes in the hills of Ann Arbor.  As I was packing up they asked me how far I had to drive, and I said “North Oakland County.”  They looked shocked and scurried away.

The drive out to the freeway was similar to my drive into AA in the morning, cars inching along, driving sleet.  I thought that if I just made it to the freeway it would be OK to go home.  But the freeway was worse, I got on at Arborland, and inched my way to Geddes Road, the next exit, got off and crept along Dixboro Road to my aunt’s house.  Having left my cell phone at home (of all days!) I arrived unannounced on her doorstep seeking shelter.  And dinner.  What a wonderful thing to have an ever available room that comes with a hot meal!

Today the roads are little better and I slid into the park and ride lot, clambored on my bus and we slowly made our way into town.  The 30 minute trip took almost an hour.  The sidewalks are slippery, I am carrying everything I own (for the moment) on my back.  Throughly stressed, thinking about my day and feeling late, I find myself muttering  as I work my way up the sidewalk toward class, listing the things I need to get done prior to my presentation today at 1:00. 

Suddenly I realize that I am talking to myself.  Out loud.   I am hunched over from the weight of all my possessions in a backpack, and I almost laugh out loud to realize the picture I make.  I think the stress of this winter commuting is turning me into a bag lady.  I realize how easy it would be to slide into that sort of semi-depravity.  I am grateful for the anchors in my life that will pull me back out of this dark, damp, weary world; my home, my husband, my dog…all of which I hope to get to tonight!

Another challenging commute into Ann Arbor this morning.  The worst roads turned out to be the first three, all back roads getting me out of my country home to civilization and more highly used highways.  After that it was mostly clear sailing, which got me into AA, where the roads are just wet, much too early for class.

My mantra during the first ten miles, as I inched my way on snow covered and icy roads was “Stay in your rut and don’t touch the brakes.”  Which, as I thought about it after I was safely on open pavement, might be my mantra to get through this final semester.

My friend’s husband, the one on life support, died this weekend.  Thirty-five, two kids and a wife.  I try to remember things that occured in my life when I was ten, and it’s hard to remember much of anything.  Of course the most traumatic thing that happened to me that year was that we moved to a new town and I had to make all new friends.  I guess if my Dad had died I’d remember the event, but I wonder how much the kids will remember about their Dad forty years from now.  Will they remember the fun things they did with him?  Will they remember his humor?  The little everyday things he did for them?  Or will he be a shadowy image buried deep behind a lifetime of other memories?  Will they remember his voice?  How he laughed?  What he sounded like when he said he loved them?  I hope so.

So.  A reality check.  Much as my heart breaks over losing my own Dad, especially the way we lost him, I am so lucky to have had him for forty-eight years.  In the beginning when people told me I was lucky to have the memories I got angry.   I didn’t want memories, I wanted HIM.  But over time I have begun to realize what a gift those memories are.  And to have so many years of memories is an even greater gift.   It’s something I wish I could give to those two young children over on the other side of the state.

You’d be seventy-eight today, Dad.  Happy birthday, and thanks for all those memories.  Love you.

I wonder if there is something called a “last semester syndrome” where the student (me) realizes that it would be hard to totally fail the last semester and hence gives up the momentum and begins to coast?  Is this typical for second year grad students who are getting through the last semester prior to graduation?  Does everyone feel this way?  Or am I finally rebelling?  Against what?  Even knowing that I have two presentations next week I can’t seem to find the motivation to prepare.  I guess I could wing them.  But they could be so much better if I spent a tiny bit of time organizing my thoughts.  Instead I’m watching the Super Bowl and napping between commercials.  Now that’s just so not productive!

What’s up?  I am still in school.  I have three classes, an internship and a job.  I have homework due next week, and in fact I have two presentations to make.  And what did I do today?  Absolutely nothing.  I spent the morning debating a trip to Ann Arbor amid dire predictions of massive amounts of snow.  Seemed I couldn’t start anything else until I made that decision.  The decision was made for me when the event I planned on attending was canceled due to the snow.  That should have freed me up for any one of my numerous projects.  Instead Katie and I went back to bed.

Getting up at 1 in the afternoon..yes one in the afternoon, well rested, I should have been raring to go on something.  But I spent the afternoon knitting.  And putting away things.  And thinking about what I should be working on.  And thinking about the family whose Dad is dying.  And sometimes just thinking.  I started one load of laundry but didn’t finish it.  Got the vacuum out but didn’t run it.  Moved my books around.  And around again.  But didn’t open any of them.  Opened my email and then an attachment from a group member, meaning to read it and edit.  But couldn’t read it.

So I have apparently learned the fine art of accomplishing nothing.  Remind me of this day when I complain I have too much to do.  I could use today to get ahead which would make the rest of the semester easier.  But that would require me to actually do something.  Which I can’t seem to do.