I received an email from an acquaintance of mine. He's one of the first organizers of Bewaro-the-Sombrero, an ultimate (frisbee) hat tournament held at the end of each year for the last 10+ years, usually somewhere close to or in San Mateo. Dave is the person who taught me the term "sucky suck," which I have used for the last 10+ years, and taught my mom to use, too.

I'm including it here because at first, I couldn't be 100% sure the email wasn't a spam email. Dave COULD have been in Africa. He COULD have lost his passport. He COULD need money. The email was sent to an address that I had given to ONLY Dave, so I couldn't be 100% sure the email was spam. The language is weird, though.

I couldn't be 100%, but I could be 97% sure the email was spam. I became 100% sure when I googled for "empowering youth to fight racism" in quotes, and found another email (but only one, oddly enough) posted that had the exact same wording.

So that the next person who googles won't have the same problem I did, here's the email. I'm speculating it's being sent by a virus that sits on the user's computer and looks at old emails, the to: and from:, maybe from gmail? and spams based on previous email headers. Though, other than affecting spam filters, I'm not sure what this message is supposed to accomplish.

The email reads:

Date:   	Wed, 8 Oct 2008 15:20:22 +0100
From:  	 	David W-------------
Subject:  	Please Respond Urgently (I Need Your Help)

How are you doing today?
  I am sorry I didn't inform you about my traveling to Africa for a program
called "Empowering Youths to Fight Racism, HIV/AIDS and Poverty. The
program is taking place in three major countries in Africa which are Ghana,
South Africa and Nigeria . It has been a very sad and bad moment for me, the
present condition I find myself in is very hard for me to explain.
    I am really stranded in Nigeria cos I forgot my little bag  where my money,
passport, documents and other valuable things are kept in the Taxi on my way to
the Hotel where i am lodged, I am facing a hard time here because I have no
money on me. I am now owing a hotel bill of $1,500 and they want me to pay the
bill else they will have to seize my other bag and hand me over to the Hotel
Management., I need this help from you urgently to help me back home, I need you
to help me with the hotel bill and i will also need $1000 to feed and
help myself
back home so please can you help me with a sum of $2500 to sort out my problems
here? I need this help so much and on time because i am in a terrible and tight
situation here.
     I am sending you this e-mail from the hotel's cafe and I only have 10
min to do so, I will appreciate what so ever you can afford to send me for now
and I promise to pay back your money as soon as i return home so please let me
know on time so that i can forward you the details you need to transfer the
money through Money Gram or Western Union.

My Regards
David.W--------- 

Joe, a coworker of Kris', joined us this morning at Velocity. Breanne decided to let us off easy this morning, provided you weren't Joe and knew what to expect. After Monday's workout, I needed something easy (where "easy" is relative).

This morning's workout was 3 rounds of:

30 box jumps
30 kettleball swings
8 lengths of running

I did my first two sets of box jumps on the 3rd highest box, which is also the third lowest box. It's about 18" high, so not the maximum height I've trained at before, but a height I was comfortable jumping three sets of 30 after running. I did the last set at the 12" box, but only because I was in a hurry to catch up with eveyrone else.

The kettleball swings were normal.

I managed to run the first two sets of 8 lengths (which are really 8 x 50m shuttles) at a good clip: good form, knees high, crank out the meters no problem. The last set? I needed to run behind someone to pace me, just to keep moving.

Joe did pretty well, smiling and laughing through most of the workout, jokingly complaining about how hard it was. He told me after class that he works out 4-5 times a week in the gym and doesn't feel as tired as he did at the end of class. He ended up signing up for a few classes. I don't know if he signed up for the monthly membership or just a 10x deal. Kris wasn't sure either, but was surprised that he signed up, as "the gym at work is free." Kris' motivation is to workout with me, I think.

Me? I find group workouts far more compelling than working out alone in the gym. I'm glad Kris and I are still going to the classes.

Every year around March, I start the same foot dragging as I do every year. I gather up the pile of papers, log onto various websites and download some data, then sit in front of the computer and wish I didn't have to do my taxes. Invariably, I'll decide that I don't want to do them, and I won't. That "file extension" button is really handy in some of this recent tax-filing-assistance programs.

For more years than I care to admit, I decided not to file at all. I had overpaid on my taxes, and didn't want the stress of actually doing all of the number crunching. Such an attitude does, however, wreak havoc on one's financial situation when, oh, getting a home loan, or starting a business, or, you know, avoiding the taxman.

When Kris and I married, and decided to file jointly, I had to clean up my act. I filed all of my old tax returns, received a pleasant chunk of change, which I, of course, paid taxes on the following year, and basically caught up.

During this whole avoid-filing-tax-returns phase, Kris would look at me like he had married a lunatic. What sort of person have I married that she won't file her tax returns?

The sort of person with taxes so complicated that even my mom, who earns a living filling out tax returns for other people, didn't want to touch my taxes, that's what sort of person.

The first year, I did our joint taxes, and, surprisingly, did them on time. The second year I let Kris do our taxes. We received a nice pleasant tax refund, which we enjoyed until we received the tax bill. Kris had double entered a deduction, and we not only had to pay taxes on the deduction, but also had to pay a penalty on the incorrect refund. Yeah, that year wasn't too fun.

This year, I took pity on Kris, for one very big reason, and told him he wouldn't have to do our taxes this year.

I hired my mom instead.

Mom did as much of our taxes as she could. When she was done, we owed the IRS another $6000, on top of what we had already paid during the year. I cried. I couldn't believe that, after doing everything right with the business, including paying some payroll company to do the company payroll and taxes correctly, even though they failed at that, that I would owe another $6000 in taxes.

And that didn't include the taxes I might have to pay from the business, after its taxes were done and filed.

So, I did what I normally do with the taxes. I put them aside to worry about later.

Well, today was later. I pulled them out to see what was going on with them. I had all of my credit card statements with me. I had all of my bank statements. I went over each of them, including my expense journal, with a fine toothed comb. I entered all of the data in correctly, and still owed $6000 in taxes.

I couldn't understand how someone who takes zero deductions on her income could end up owing $6000 in taxes.

So, I did what I always do when faced with a perplexing problem that has me stumped. I went back to the beginning. I pulled out all of the paperwork that Mom used to start our taxes. I pulled out our income statements from our employers. I pulled out our dividend statements. I pulled out every piece of paper in the stack of tax paperwork, and I started at the top.

About 20 minutes into the process, I discovered the source of the problem.

When entering in my stock sales from last year, in particular the sales I was making to clean out my savings in order to make the sixth biggest financial blunder in my life, Mom had entered the cost-basis of the stock from one share, instead of the 100 shares of stock that I would routinely buy. So, instead of making $200 on a stock sale, Mom recorded that I made $6600 on a stock sale (as a true example of the difference in errors). Calculating the cost basic correctly was the difference between a recorded $3100 gain and the actual lost of $2000 on one stock sale.

Holy moly.

Instead of owing the IRS, we are now expecting a $195 refund.

$195. That's how well I calculated our taxes.

I'm mighty pleased with myself. I'll be skipping all the way to the post office to mail these returns.

This morning, once again, I was reminded of the stark contrast between "adult fitness" and "ultimate fitness." More importantly, the difference between the small world of sports played passionately and larger world of people just wanting to stay in shape, or lose a few pounds, or something else like that.

I am the slowest, possibly the second slowest, person on my ultimate team. Much of this has to do with (my lack of) fitness and my growing number of annoying injuries, but I can't ignore the lack of dedication (read: obsession) this season after becoming a practice player. Well, that and just plain genetics, even though my college times imply I can run an okay fast time.

In contrast, I am the fastest, possibly the second faster, woman at Velocity for the times I go, which are the morning adult fitness classes. Not that it ever really matters during the warmups, since people should be running as fast as they want, not as fast as they can go. I do prefer, however, to try to keep up with the boys, and I manage for those first five steps, the ones which are so important in ultimate. The last 30 meters? Yeah, their backsides.

The latter inspires significantly more than the former. Though that could be Breanne's infectious attitude towards pushing oneself to see really how well you can do.

This morning's workout was two rounds of:

20m x 2 Overhead walking lunges
30 squats
10 dips

20m x 2 Overhead walking lunges
30 jumping squats
10 dips

20m x 2 Overhead walking lunges
30 split squat jumps
10 dips

Overhead walking lunges are done with a wide grip on a barbell, held over one's head with arms locked. The lunges are supposed to be low, but not so that the front leg goes past 90°. I didn't use the girlie bar for the walking lunges, opting instead for the trainer bar (17kg or about 35 pounds). My upper body wasn't as tired as my lower body as a result.

The squats were normal squats, but done explosively! as fast as possible while keeping form. The hamstrings were to go parallel with the floor.

Jumping squats involved the same as the squats for quickness, but also included a jump at the end.

The split squat jumps were essentially jumping from a lunge position and switching feet, attempting to go as high as possible.

The dips could be regular dips on the dip bar, a jump up to the dip bar with a lower, or a dip from the jump boxes. I opted for the latter, after realizing that I couldn't do one regular dip, and not really wanting to fight over the dip bars for the jumping ones.

I finished the workout, maintaining as much form as I could, just behind Kris. The last sets of squats weren't one set of 30 each, but rather three sets of 10, strung together quickly, because my legs just couldn't handle 30 explosive anythings by that point.

At the end of the last set of dips, I curled into a ball and started crying. I sat that way for a moment, before standing up, and walking over to Kris and burying my face in his shoulder to continue crying. He was standing next to the big fan, where I needed to be, as I couldn't manage to get my body temperature down this morning, despite the 65° room or the removal of various pieces of clothing during the workout. "You're not injured?" was Kris' first reaction, a perfectly reasonable reaction, I'd say.

No, not injured. Just very, very, very happy to be done with that workout.

While cooking a couple nights ago, I heard a hearty "YOO HOO!" followed by a series of full stomach chuckles from my porch. I looked over at the front window, figuring the sounds came from a friend on her way in the door, smiled, and waved at the window. The light was sufficiently dark outside that the light from the kitchen reflected me back in the window, so I couldn't see who the caller was.

When I opened the door, I quickly realized my guest was not a friend, nor an acquaintance, but rather a person I had never met before.

"I'm going to have salmon tonight for dinner," she quickly said as I opened the door, "and I was wondering if I could have some of your lemons."

Now, this has happened before, more than once actually, as I've found notes on my door with quarters taped to them, or people in the middle of snagging them when I arrive home, or children asking me politely. I usually tell people to take the lemons from the front tree and leave the back tree alone, but most of the people who snag my lemons don't ask me, so I can't tell them to take from the community tree and not the personal tree.

I gave my standard answer when people ask about food in my front yard, "Sure!" expecting her to take one or two lemons and leave.

She said "Thanks!" and tried to hand me a couple dollars cash. I pulled my hands away, telling her no, she didn't have to pay me, just pick the darker ones, they're sweeter. She was surprised, but left with a bounce in her step.

As she stepped away, she pulled out a plastic bag, presumably to fill with lemons. I noticed this morning that I don't have any yellow lemons on either of my trees at this point.

My mom had a similar problem a couple years ago, where someone asked if they could have "some oranges" from her trees, the oranges hanging over the fence, accessible from the road. After she said yes, she noticed two trucks, four Mexicans and the guy who had asked for her permission stripping all the fruit, ripe or not, from her trees. In a huff, she shooed them away, disgruntled a bit at the abuse of her good graces.

I'm not quite sure how I feel about it at the moment, with my lemon trees in the front. No one seems to have snagged any of the pomegranates from the tree in the front yard, though all of the almonds were stolen (I assumed by squirrels, though I have no proof of that one way or the other). Perhaps when the full front yard garden goes in, I'll have to put up fences, even a low one, to delineate "my" space from "public" space. Maybe even a trellis over the edge of the driveway, to further limit the space.

I really don't want to do that, but I really do like my lemons.