When I was entering my Sophomore year in High School, we had just moved from a single 4-way stop-sign town, to a bigger city with actual city buses! In order to get to school, I had to ride a city bus for the 1st time, without information/assistance! I barely managed to squeeze in and had to stand on the step of the packed bus on the way to school. BTW, smoking was STILL happening on these buses! I noticed every time we went around a corner, it seemed a bell would ring. I falsely assumed it meant HANG ON! So, when it was time to return home, the bus was not as crowded, and I actually was able to sit down. Again, every time we turned the corner, a bell would ring. So I held on tight! As we neared my bus stop to get off, the bus whizzed past it, without stopping! Panic began to set in quickly. I already had a very strange, long day in a new 3 story school building, and I smelled like cigarette smoke! I quickly moved to the empty seat behind the driver, and told him he didn't stop where I needed to get off. He asked me if I rang the bell. I admitted to him, I had no knowledge of riding on a city bus. He was kind, explained to pull the bell pull 1 block prior to my stop. He explained he would circle back around and I could get off at my stop on the return trip. I was SO relieved! However, now I was 1/2 hour late getting home, especially stressed and tired from the new school and bus fiasco, AND I smelled like cigarette smoke! When I walked into my house, I was immediately confronted on why was I late, why did I smell like smoke, etc.! I burst into tears, and had to tell about my horrible day, but I didn't get into trouble! WHEW! Question: What did the writer smell like? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- cologne
- smoke
- body odor

Answer: smoke

My partner's parents decided to help with all the planning and set up for his sister's wedding. I am sure part of the reason was because they had offered to foot part of the expenses. There came a point in the planning, when his mom seemed to sort of run-amok with her ideas. His sister ended up accepting some plans for her wedding that I don't think she was really that fond of, but she went along with them anyways. One of the things that stands out the most to me, was this idea that they would make a large wooden box with a hole in it, and people would smash their dinner plates into the box. Then the fragments of the broken plates would be put into metal keepsake tins for the guests to take home. (The tins were cute, the trash inside seemed very weird to me.) So imagine it's the evening of your wedding reception, and people are in a corner of the room smashing their plates into a box. And then part of your wedding party is supposed to go in the back and fix up the tins of broken ceramic ware. It was like an exercise in how to needlessly generate extra stress hormones in a large room full of people. My partner's sister looked like she cringed every time someone threw a plate in the box. It is weird (and wasteful) to propose to break brand new plates for a tradition that isn't even part of your ancestry. It's weird to railroad the people getting married into accepting to do things they don't really want. Soon after that, my partner's mother offered that she would be happy to help us plan and throw our wedding too, just like they did for his sister. I think the experience made us both content to elope. Question: What happened with the the plate fragments? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- The fragments were put into little tin keepsake boxes after.
- The fragments were swept up with all of the other trash after the reception.
- The fragments were carefully wrapped and thrown into the trash after the reception.
- not enough information

Answer: The fragments were put into little tin keepsake boxes after.

Hmmm that's a hard one. At first I was going to say giving them daily chores, but the "reward" part of that has actually not been realized yet (what with all the eye rolling and such). So I will have to go with family dinners at the table. Sometimes, "dinner" is fast food, sometimes it is a meal I slaved over for hours - that part doesn't seem to matter. Whether we are talking about our day, learning manners, having serious discussions, or laughing until we spit our drinks - it is where grow. There have been horrible nights at the table, where we shared bad news. There have been fabulous nights where we celebrated successes and talked about exciting things to come. There have been nights where the kids can see that Mom and Dad are "at odds" and nights where they see us push that aside and joke with each other for the sake of saving the evening. When they were little, we did "About Your Day" - one funny thing, one sad thing, one new thing you learned. Now, they are all teenagers, and the conversations just seem to flow, with never enough time to fit it all in before someone has to rush off to work, to study, or to get ready for bed because we are eating "after practice". My twins will be Seniors next year, and I know that our table will look a little different from now on. But when I look at that worn oak (outdated) table, that needs refinishing in the worst way - I am grateful for the evenings there, where my kiddos learned to be a family. Don't be misled, we are not the Cleavers. We have "Fun Friday" where Mom does not get to badger them about their table manners (ugh - they revel in this), Sometimes we eat in the living room while we watch a movie, sometimes we eat in shifts because of our schedules. However, the majority of meals have been together ~ I feel like this is a gift we gave them. Question: What is mom's occupation? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Stay at home mom
- not enough information
- School teacher
- Business executive

Answer:
not enough information