Fun with taxes

No, not those taxes. Those tax papers are with the accountant. She hopes to get my return done tonight. Although I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be encouraged or nervous that she's planning to stay at the office until 2 A.M. Just as I don't want to be the final surgery in the 36-hour rotation, I'm not wild about my return coming at the end of a week of very little sleep.

But I digress.

To distract me from worrying about my income tax return, I've been filing all the other taxes that are due this month and thus need to be paid before we leave on vacation. The one that amuses me the most is 941: Employer's Quarterly Federal Tax Return. I swear the instructions for this one were designed by someone in a very bad mood.

Take for example, this warning:

Caution: Use Form 941-V when making any payment with Form 941. However, if you pay an amount with Form 941 that should have been deposited, you may be subject to a penalty.

Or this one, which always sounds vaguely threatening:

Detach Form 941-V and send it with your payment and Form 941 to the address in the Instructions for Form 941. Do not send a photocopy of Form 941-V because your payment may be misapplied or delayed.

And why is that, exactly? Do the numbers transpose themselves in the photocopy? Or do they not trust photocopy machines to make readable copies?

And speaking of the address in the instructions, is there a reason why forms with checks and forms without checks have to go to different addresses? In different states? It's like the final test at the end of the process--can you stick the correct label on the envelope?

Actually, sticking the label on at all is tricky. There is something wrong with the adhesive. And there has been for years. I have to tape it on.

I hope they are taking the money they save on sticky labels and paying down the debt.

I am a hypocrite

I've always shaken my head at people who tell their kids to obey safety rules they disregard themselves. Like wearing a seat belt. Or a ski helmet. But as I was forced to admit to EM tonight, I am a hypocrite too.

I eat cookie dough. Raw.

But I don't let the kids touch the stuff.

Michael's mom's tale of her friend who got salmonella (although not from cookie dough) impressed me enough to protect the kids, but for me, personally, I think the risk is too small to give up one of life's great treats.

It's not often I get to feel virtuous for not sharing. EM protests every time, but I tell him when he is on his own (and preferably not on my insurance) he can take risks with cookie dough. In the meantime, I would feel too bad if he got salmonella on my watch.

Costume woes

The school newsletter came home yesterday. The third announcement down reminded us of the dance performance this Wednesday, the culmination of the artist-in-residence program. This has been on the calendar for a few weeks. No surprise there.

And then this innocuous-looking paragraph:

Children are asked to wear the following "costumes" to school that night (please borrow if necessary--do not buy anything!)

It's a good thing they don't want me to buy anything, because the selection of children's clothing in the valley is limited, and I don't have time for a shopping trip between now and Wednesday.

IM needs to "wear sunny colors, anything yellow, orange, peach and/or coral."

NB needs to "wear anything beige, khaki, and/or white."

EM needs to "wear anything black."

So I spent yesterday afternoon digging through the kids' clothes and the hand-me-downs in the basement looking for appropriate clothing. IM is fine, and EM is ok, but NB is having to settle for khaki shorts (!) and a black shirt. Sorry, bud.

30-Hour Famine

EM participated in the 30-Hour Famine this weekend with the church youth group. It's an annual event sponsored by WorldVision. The moto for this year is Be Seen. Be Heard. Be Hungry.

Over the last several weeks, EM has learned about the problem of world hunger, spoken to two congregations about the 30-Hour Famine, collected money, and helped at the Salvation Army soup kitchen. This weekend, he went 30 hours without food, from lunch on Friday to dinner on Saturday. He was allowed clear liquids and gum. The kids and their leaders gathered Friday evening for activities centered around world hunger, and spent the night in the Town Hall. The kids went home for the day on Saturday, and then gathered at the church Saturday evening for communion, closing ceremonies, and a potluck dinner of their favorite food.

It's not uncommon for kids to not make it the entire 30 hours, but EM did and I was very proud of him. The youth group leaders mentioned his insightful comments during group activities, and I think his compassion for others has grown this weekend.

Snowboards on the freeway

I'm in Waltham this week, attending a two-day training class and spending a couple of days meeting with co-workers to plan the next several months. I drove down Sunday afternoon. It was a great day for a drive, with sunny skies and dry roads. It also helps that sunset is later in the day; I would much rather drive when it's light.

Somewhere north of Boston on I-93, I noticed the car in front of me was swerving to avoid something on the road. It was not one but two snowboards. I saw an SUV stopped in the breakdown lane on the far right, with an empty ski rack. I'm not sure exactly how they were going to manage to get the snowboards, which were in between the two left-most lanes. I would not want to dash across a Boston freeway.

Speaking of Boston roads, someone needs to give the city of Waltham some paint. Every time I come down, I struggle with trying to figure out how many lanes are on the road at any point. It varies a lot more than you might think. And the paint is very, very faint. It's not just me, either. I was following a car last night when it suddenly veered to the right and I realized that it, and therefore I, had been driving in a lane intended for traffic going the other direction. Oops.