#202 - ALL FIRED UP!

When I was a Sophomore at Santa Monica City College I took several speech classes.   Noooooo, way you say!  This gal is way too shy!  Sure, right!  Well, this story is about my final speech in that class.

I wanted to get an "A" since I was thinking about becoming a member of Toastmasters International.  All of my other speeches received fantastic reviews and I was working on straight "A's."  To me this had to be a speech that EVERYONE would remember, especially the instructor (who could be my Toastmasters' sponsor, if I finished well).

I researched feverishly on my topic which was drawn from a box.  At first I wasn't too enthused because it the topic I drew was, "The Dangers of House Fires."  However, after reading a gazillion articles a plan began to form in my mind.

An outline of the required techniques was made and under each one notes were sketched.  I began to get excited and could see the way it was going to go.  My information was well documented, phrased in interesting and unique ways, and I had come up with a mind staggering (required) demonstration/finale.

On the day of the final, I admit, l I was a little nervous.  With my notes memorized in my head I stepped to the podium and set up my props, stage right, on a table.  One of these props was a carefully crafted paper and cardboard house with shingles, a chimney, windows, door and the typical type of siding drawn in color on the model.

My voice was well modulated, my tempo was up beat and crisp, I demonstrated an excitement about the information I was imparting and put across the seriousness of the topic.  I HAD THEM EATING OUT OF MY HANDS.  I was cooking on all burners.  I was firing on all cylinders.  I was going like a house afire.  It is then that I launched into my final comment and the ending that would grab them all.

As I said, "Don't let this happen to you," I stuck a match and touched it to the house.  Well, here is where it gets interesting.  I had worried about the house not catching fire, or only partially burning so (remember I was only a Sophomore in college and REALLY STUPID!)  therefore I had soaked the paper house with lighter fluid....................  WOOSH!  up it went.  If the front row had been any closer their eyebrows would have been part of my speech.  Everyone jumped up, the fire alarm went off, and I looked on stunned at the conflagration melting the top of the table.  The instructor rushed up with a fire extinguisher and became a participant in my memorable demonstration.

Mann, oh mann, it went up in a mini explosion of flame in less than 5 seconds.  WHAT A SIGHT!

I GOT AN "A." (and a lecture from the Dean).


POST SCRIPT:  I have had several blog worthy experiences with fire.  See the following:
          #32 = the 9th Street Fire Fiend,  http://outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/2011/03/164-fiday-flashbacks-9th-street-fire.html

          #20 = Recipe for Disaster,  http://outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/2010/08/20-recipe-for-disaster.html

          #90 = From the Frying Pan to the Fire, http://outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/2011/01/90-from-fring-pan-into-fire.html

I also have one more coming up as soon as I get around to writing it.  What can I say....I'm a slow learner and I have already told you that have ADHD (and am a tad nuts).  By the way.  I never joined toastmasters.  I fell in love instead... ... ...

                             

             SEE YOU NEXT MONDAY FOR.....#203-"BOO!, BUG-A-BOO, TOBY, AND A KITTY TOO!"
       BE SURE TO WRITE THE 8/29 ON YOU CALENDAR FOR MY FAVORITE STORY.

kt 7/3/11

#190- MASTERING MY MASTERS

I have explained to you before that I have had ADHD my entire life.  One of the numerous problems is that this disorder causes memory problems.  Often I was forced to over learn everything and how to severely focus my attention in order to remember something I had to regurgitate on an exam.  I came up with several tricks to trigger my memory.  The following is just one of many.

(I COULDN'T COME UP WITH ART FOR THIS ONE.  

READ ON AND YOU WILL UNDERSTAND).

Studying for my Masters exam caused me some anxiety and a great number of long nights trying to drum information into this brain of mine.

Finally, I came up with a scathingly (I love that word) brilliant idea.  It was noticed by me that I always seemed to remember stuff I wrote on my hand when I couldn’t find a paper.  So, I ran an experiment and wrote my grocery lost on my belly.   Sure enough, when I got to the grocery store I remembered what was on my list and picked up everything (and, back then, I had an ample belly for even very long lists).  There is no way I can begin to explain how this managed to work, it just did.

Therefore, the day before my Masters Exam I wrote all pertinent information (in a shortened form, of course) on my abdomen, my belly, my thighs, my upper arms and, yes, my boobs.  I was sure to write this list on parts of my body that I could not see, because this wasn’t to be used as a cheat sheet just a memory jog.


When a question would come up about best practices I would think belly, and voilà, the information would pop into my mind (so on and so forth).  I was a little paranoid on the way to and from the exam.  What if I was in an accident or something....how on earth would I explain this to the ER people?  Not only that I failed to consider how difficult the magic marker ink might be to remove (it took me 3 days). 

When I left the exam I felt as though I had done a thorough job, but when I, later, talked to my counselor about the results he said that I ACED the exam.  It was a first for them.  When he asked me how I did it I simply said,  "Well, sir,  I studied so hard that the information became as familiar to me as my own body." 

I haven’t used this method since because life does not have written exams.  But, it did prove to myself that I could come up with unique, practical, and successful ways to solve problems, which is a skill all good mothers and teachers need.


POST SCRIPT: I did try to come up with art.  I actually wrote some educational facts on my tummy and photographed it.....well, let me just say that it a sight that no one would ever want to see.  


(By the way, I have a serious problem.  That horrible picture is on my image folder and I .....WANT....IT....OFF!  How on earth does one delete one of those uploaded images?  Why did I even up load it in the first place?  Did I actually consider using it?   STOP SMILING....I'M SERIOUS!)

kt 6/2011

#135-OH GIVE ME A HOME, ON THE DRAIN BOARD, ALONE

Sick as a dog!

In the early 60s I talked my parents into letting me go to San Jose State College in San Jose, California.  After all, I had successfully completed a complete year at a local junior college.  Of course, I had no intention of letting my parents know that  San Jose State had come in second (to Miami State) in the category of ‘PARTY COLLEGES,” on a nation wide survey.

Since I had lead a fairly sheltered life being raised by a Jr. High principal and a librarian I had know idea what I was getting myself into.   To give you a clue, I missed the first week of classes due to what the hospital called,  a dehydrated condition. 

When I arrived a week early to get settled I was delighted to find the school in PARTY MODE.  This meant that one had only arm themselves with a tall cup and walk down the street.  Every house, on every street in about a three block radius had a party going on.  Every party had an open house policy.

Not being much of a drinker, even though I was not a Puritan, I indulged to the max.

I believe I was in a constant state of inebriation from 8PM  to ????AM and I ALWAYS

wound up in the same place (you guessed it…… with my head in the toilet).

Hey, I was a college student, so I decided to be smart about this.  Did I decide to stop drinking or even slow down?   NOPE!  I decided it was so uncomfortable to be hanging over the dirty commode and came up with a scathingly brilliant plan.  I would simply lay on the counter in the kitchen, with my head hanging slightly in the sink and PUKE MY GUTS UP!

Ok, don't give me any grief.  I know this is someone under the kitchen sink.
But,  you wouldn't believe what I got when I googled
woman laying on kitchen sink drainboard.
I would have to change my blog rating to XXX! 

Hence I was given the nickname “DRAINBOARD KID.”   I am sure you will not be surprised to learn that I flunked out of that school the second semester after being on probation for the first semester! 

Oh, the lessons we learn the hard way during our misspent youth.
kt1/31/11

#114-AND I QUOTE: “Eweuuuuuuu!”

Woops there goes another
rubber tree plant!

-         When I was in college at San Jose State I had a beautiful rubber tree plant, BUT one of my “room mates” had a cat.  Now, this cat (much to my dismay) apparently heard the word flowerpot and zeroed in on the word POT because that is what she used it for!

She refused to use her sand box.  She, (being a persnicity feline) preferred the natural earthier comode provided

by the unwitting plant's owner.  The “ROOM MATE” would scoop out the more disgusting part of the cat’s deposits, however this left the foul odor to contend with.  ‘THE ROOM MATE” (who was becoming less popular as the days wore on) would occasionally scoop out some dirt and pour in some fresh soil (didn’t help much).

Finally the end of the semester came and we all headed home.  She with her cat, and I with a sickly plant (and a friend who was going to stay with me).  The plant was placed on the back seat of my small car along with most of our stuff.  We had to drive with the windows down because of the stench coming from the plant (but I was determined to get her home, repot her, and once again have a beautiful, flourishing rubber tree plant).

Halfway home I got sleepy and my friend volunteered to drive for me.  She had never driven

a Renault before (it was a cute, small, rear engine, French car that got great gas mileage).  

We were about to experience what it was like to FLIP a cute, small, rear engine, French car that got great gas mileage.

Debbie was changing lanes only to discover that there was a crack between the two lanes.  When the small tires momentarily caught on the crack it caused the car to swerve.  When Renne’ (that’s what I called my car)  swerved Debbie over corrected and the little car darted quickly to the left (toward the center median).  The die was cast.  A witnesses said, “One minute she was traveling down the road then she went into a zigzag.  Before I could blink she went right into the grassy part and flipped!”

I was sleeping and rudely awakened by a scream.  When I opened my eyes I was sitting with my feet hanging out the front window with dirt all over me.  

Debbie and I were fine, but the car wasn’t (neither were my Mom and Dad.  You see this was the second time they had to pick me up after an accident on the way home from college = another story).

Since my friend and I had a few hours to kill (waiting for my parents to drive up the coast road) we went to a movie.  First, we went to the restroom to wash up.  It was then that I noticed that Debbie had dirt in her ear.  In fact she had it all over.  About the same time she noticed I was covered, also.  At the same time we BOTH knew where all of that dirt came from (THE PLANT) and squealed, “Eweuuuuuuu!” simultaneously!

You should have seen the looks of the patrons visiting the restroom as we stripped and washed every inch of our bodies!  We never even got to see the movie.  We were too busy trying to dry our clothes (and that was before they had hand blow dryers)!

Oh, yes, "The plant?" you ask.  I have heard stories of an extremely large rubber tree plant growing on on the median somewhere outside of San Louis Obispo.

And, "The room mate?" you wonder.  Me too, never saw her again (by design).
(Wait, aaah, Joy, if you are reading this I really didn't mean that last comment, honest!)


OK, here's my chance to try something new.  
Is this story 100% true, partly true, or a total fabrication?  
Let me know what you think when you comment.

kt2011

A

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