my soft spot

just a mom who plays hockey and knits

Thursday, April 28, 2005

I have seen the future

and it rolls up. Just spotted this for sale from MegaMacs: a roll-up keyboard. Whoah!

I thought, years ago, that paper will some day be electronic. You can see your essay on it, and then roll it up or fold it and put it away. Unroll it flat, and read some more. The first versions will be shitty and they'll break a lot and maybe even leak something toxic, but later versions will be tough and robust and incredibly cool.

There you have it. The future according to me.

Wake up!

So, got to work this morning, decided to have some (decaf) coffee. Took my mug into the break room, rinsed it, put coffee in. Added water (they make it way too strong), and wandered over to the other counter.

Well, got to the counter (probably 1 second later), looked around, and grabbed what I usually grab there. Went back to my mug...

and nearly dipped the teabag I'd grabbed into my coffee! Eew. A tragedy, narrowly averted. (Returned to the other counter for Splenda, which is what I put in my coffee. I guess I've been drinking a whole lot of tea lately.)

Our local bubble tea shop offers a coffee/tea combination, but honestly, that concept has never appealed. And today was not the day to try it!

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

I really AM a geek

Just found a notation in a bug report that reads thusly
"test pathTD vs m_startErrorsAt in SurvTable ctor."

and realized that it is complete and total gibberish to a non-programmer. And dead simple to a programmer. Yep, I'm a geek, all right.

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

I love eBay

I love being able to shop for bras while sitting on my sizeable heinie. Fabulous. A friend has gotten me hooked on Wacoal (I still don't know how to pronounce it) bras and I'm shopping for more. Came upon a seller and was checking her feedback... and realized that many of the sales were recent and thus viewable. She sells bras--and hubcaps! Bras, and hubcaps. Such an odd combo...but in a sense, don't they seem similar? ... Or maybe it's just me.

Monday, April 25, 2005

How can they trust me with a child, period?

I think I only put deoderant on my left armpit today. The right one is getting a little stinky. (It could be the blouse; not sure.) I remember finding my deoderant on the sink with the lid off and remembered at least applying it to my left armpit, and the thought was, "Would I really just apply it to one side and then pause?" so I put it away.

Things like this throw me--I can't handle my own personal hygeine, and yet, I'm in charge of another being's whole life. At least I manage to get food into him and cause him to sleep, and he usually shows up to events with clothing on. But some of the day-to-day stuff is challenging when I'm not sure if I've deoderanted my right armpit on any given day.

A rant about supposed breastfeeding-friendly doctors

OK, so half of you stopped reading after the title. :) I'm OK with that.

A post on my SMC list about a child vomiting sparked a memory. The poster said that the doctor told her that even if a child is vomiting liquid right back up, it is worthwhile to continue giving fluids--that a little of it stays in the stomach and is absorbed, and dehydration is the real danger. (Disclaimer: please check with your doctor or pediatrician! I am not a doctor, and this is not medical advice.)

The post made me remember when my kid was about 2 and had been vomiting for over 24 hours. Called the Kaiser advice nurse, who advised me to bring him in. Since it was a same-day appointment, we couldn't get in to see our regular pediatrician (whom I adore). The pediatrician we got happened to be the one a friend goes to, and she breastfed her son and adores this pediatrician.

I didn't, so much. She advised me to stop breastfeeding my son. "But breastmilk is like perfect Pedialyte!" I insisted. She countered with, "But it contains protein and protein is hard to digest." Flabbergasted, I replied, "Well, it's the easiest protein in the world to digest." Finally, she said, "Well, he shouldn't have dairy if he's vomiting." Stunned, I replied, "But I'm not a cow!" Dairy, my ass.

In the end, I kept breastfeeding him through this, as it was his only solace. (And it made sense to me to do so. I offered him Pedialyte for a recent stomach bug. He firmly declined it, and when I tasted it--to "show" him it tasted OK--I had to spit it out in the sink. Orangey salt water, anyone? YUCK.)

But I wasn't sorry that he vomited all over the cupboards in the exam room. (We just didn't make it to the sink in time.)

I sure wish it were a priority for doctors in this country to learn the truths and myths about breastfeeding, and that it were a priority for hospitals to really, actually support breastfeeding mothers. (I'll rant about the xerox of a lactation consultant's business card I was given in the hospital, 1 day post-C-section, another time. Oops, I just did.)

Friday, April 22, 2005

As if

I'm not enough for the world, we seem to be overrun with Jennies. Which would not be a big deal if I weren't casting about for a domain name, more for vanity than anything else.

Which leads me to a tangent, as so often happens in these blog entries: there is a fabulous children's book by MercerMayer that features a West Highland White Terrier named "Jennie" who repeats at the beginning, "There must be more to life." Is there more to life than one's own domain? Oh and Soopahviv, if you're the softie you claim to be, this book will make you dissolve into tears. It does for me--each and every time.

Anyway, so I periodically try out domains to see if anyone owns them yet, and the blasted Jennies of the world have invariably beat me to it. Just today, I tried (no links because damn, they don't need the extra web visits!) www.planetjennie.com and www.jenniesworld.com and both are taken (not that I care for domains that imply missing punctuation, but thought I'd try). Suggestions welcome, of course. Extra points for funny suggestions.

Shopping therapy: it's not a myth

Work has been pretty stressful lately. We're trying to freeze our software, and it's come down to my bugs holding up the process. So of course I run into bugs that should be pretty speedy to resolve, and no, there's this and that hangup and conversation with a coworker, trying things out, trying new things, blah blah blah blah!

Anyway, while things build, my eyes shift to Netscape. "Hm, wonder if Overstock.com has that lightweight down comforter I've been wanting to buy? Will the price be low enough?" and just the act of shopping for that comforter, which won't really be useful till next fall I suspect, fills me with calm. Hey, these two are the same price--what's the difference? Fill power? Cover? Baffle type? Is it "down and feathers" or real down? Wait, that one is Dry Clean Only? I'll pick the Machine Washable one, thank you.

Each visit, picking and choosing, makes me happy. Then I can try to find that pesky incorrect depth value again. I score a 7% discount, no minimum, and I place my order. Cool, that made it so shipping was like 30 cents. I think I can go all afternoon on this high!

It's a sickness.

Monday, April 18, 2005

One up, one down

Well, wonderful Zeus the beagle is apparently much, much better. Yay, Zeus!

But normally sprightly Cali is much worse. Just had her second blood transfusion and her mom is now wondering how long to let it go on. Ah, me. Cali was in my office this morning and certainly seemed lethargic, which really is alarming as she is normally very energetic to the point of annoying. Oh, Cali, feel better.

Yoiks.

My ex's Riley (GSD-&-something-thin mix) is staying with us till tomorrow night. He is such a character. While my friend and I were moving the birthday-party groceries in on Saturday, she inadvertantly A) let both dogs out, and B) closed the front door. Opened it several minutes later to find both dogs happily sitting on the porch, watchin' as the world goes by. Good dogs!

Friday, April 15, 2005

Oh Lord, make these dogs well

Two good friends have pups that aren't doing well. One has a 9 y.o. Pembroke Welsh Corgi who has been diagnosed with some kind of cancer that doesn't even respond to chemotherapy. This is her heart dog, that she got as a small puppy with giant ears with her lover of 8 years. They broke up a few years later and she was left with a dog she had planned to coparent... it was very hard. She did agility with this dog and did very well and enjoyed it. Now, within the next year (or maybe very soon, ugh), she'll have to say goodbye to this feisty, too-smart-in-my-book character of a dog.

And other friends' fabulous beagle isn't doing well--well, he's doing better and better, but at least one of the vets is very negative.... He's one of those dogs who is just a tiny person in a fur coat. Not like my Maddy, who is a good-natured silly goose, wonderful companion, but more like--

A friend has a friend who visits with her and her kids. He wears tweed coats, shiny wire-rimmed glasses, and sometimes communicates in slightly-off-the-beaten path ways. Nice guy, just... odd. Likeable, but odd. Zeus is like this.

God, it ain't his time. Let him come back. Let Zeus and Cali have a bit more time with their folks. They're needed down here right now. Thanks.

I am the mom of a five-year-old.

I'm practicing for Sunday: "I am the mom of a five-year-old." How the hell can that be??? Let's see, five years ago today, it was Saturday. I was 41 weeks pregnant, big as a duplex, eating ice cream. My dad was in town for the weekend (probably a UC Alumni Association meeting), and helped me buy a new water heater, mine having recently kicked the bucket.

Tangent: they have these handy guides for "how big a water heater should I buy?" The one I read said I only needed a 30-gallon one, which is the size I was replacing. I pointed to the 50-gallon one and said, "I want that one." My dad said, "But you only need a 30-gallon one!" And I said, "No way. I want to be able to start the dishwasher, start a load of laundry, and still take a shower." I got the 50-gallon one. (Turns out I did the right thing: as a single mom, I don't have time to space out running the dishwasher then a load of wash and somehow fitting in a shower.)

Anyway, so we bought the water heater, as I said, 5 years ago today. 5 years ago tomorrow, in the morning, my dad finished hooking it up (with some interesting, eh, creative hookup methods, as some pipes had rusted and couldn't be loosened), and he asked me to help carry the old one to the curb. "I'm nine months pregnant!" I blustered. "C'mon, just help me!" So I took the other end, squatting really wide because I had this big belly in the way, and we walked it to the curb (where someone grabbed it in like 1 hour, I swear).

Just an hour later, I started feeling this "ugh" feeling. Went away, came back. Went away, came back. I called in the troops. Gave birth the next morning at 9AM to a beautiful, red-haired boy, 9 pounds, 7 ounces.

Happy birthday, sweetheart. It was all worth it. And isn't that water heater rockin?

My poor memory

I have unbelievably poor short-term memory. I very often walk into a room, wonder why I'm there, return to where I was, remember why I left, walk back, and forget again. I sometimes set timers and then put sticky notes on them to remind me what that timer was for. I tell stories to friends who've already heard them. My sister loves to irritate me by saying, "You already told me that, Dad," since our dad will tell you stories again and again. In my defense, once you tell me you've heard it, I stop. Unlike my sainted father, bless his heart. (and also in my defence, I've learned to start a story, and stop and ask, "Did I tell you this already?")

So, what is it? Do I have a form of ADHD? Will gingko biloba help? Another stimulant? Should I take up reg. coffee again? (blech, no thanks; now, a regular cup of coffee makes me nauseated, jittery, and irritable. Friends say, "And that's different from normal... how?")

My SMC email list is discussing "What's the dumbest thing you've done because of Mommy Brain?" I can't even remember (how sad is that?), and I'm sure it's because I've blocked them from my memory (or, ya know, see above).

Do you drive away from your house and honestly wonder whether you even shut the door, much less locked it? Ever woken up in the morning to find your keys still in the front door for all the world to see? Ever walk up to your office, which has required a card key for entry for the past 3 years, and still just try to yank the door open? Ever have something you have to do every week, and still manage to forget it at least half the time? (e.g., bringing a clean sheet to my son's daycare, past 3+ yrs)

Well, I'm glad I make lists, have a PDA to remember things for me, back it up to my computer, and sync some things to my iPod. (and still, I manage to forget friends' birthday parties, etc.)

If you see my brain, will you please return it?

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

By God, I can DO this job!

My work often ebbs and flows. When it flows, I'm busy and happy. When it ebbs, bleah, progress is slow, I'm frustrated and depressed. I've had an ebb lately. But yesterday I went off on a tangent (as I am wont to do, especially when deadlines loom, and it is often A Bad Thing, as it saps my energy and time and I rarely get the tangent idea done and running in a reasonable amount of time), flow-charted this whole logical set of conditions, and made changes to my code resulting from that flow chart. The whole flow chart is on my white board, in five colors.

(I was freaked out it would be erased by accident, so I hunted around and lo and behold, MicroSnoft has done something right for once: they had a flowchart template on their website. After some missteps--including being forced to use their piece o'cwap browser--I got the .CAB [WTF?] downloaded, opened it in WinZip, and opened the template in Excel. Woo, nice! I was even able to use my colors. And then I printed out on a B&W printer. Sometimes I'm a little slow up on the uptake.)

So I compiled it last night, fixed a few niggling bugs, got it linking, and left it alone. Used it today, and Hallelujah! it works and solved the bug it was meant to solve.

The whole time I'm flow-charting, I'm feeling ALIVE. I love logical progression stuff! I think maybe I was meant to be an EE instead. But to go back to school... I don't think so!

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

Quite the survivor, eh?

I'm behind a car yesterday. We're in the middle lane at a good-sized intersection. I notice she has one of those ribbon-magnets, but this one is pink and says "Survivor." I know pink ribbons are about breast cancer and I'm thinking, "Oh, God bless you, sweetie," when the left-turn arrow goes green. Suddenly, she flips on her blinker and starts to move into the left-turn lane, in front of a big SUV.

I had to laugh. OK, you survived breast cancer... that doesn't mean you'll survive anything!!! Yikes.

Tired o'cute kid posts yet?

So we have a cabinet that ends up housing candy--Graham often loses interest, so I just put it away. Well, he had a ring pop some time in 2004 and I'd slipped it into a baggie & put it away. He found it this morning, mostly sucked and definitely old.

"That's gisdusting! I wouldn't eat it for a hundred years!"

Man, he's cute.

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

Aww...

Taking after andrea and the one-line blog posts... Too cute.

Monday, April 04, 2005

People suck.

Hey, you. Yeah, you, asswipe. The one who borrowed my lawnmower from the shed in my back yard, through the gate, probably multiple times. Without my permission. Without asking at all. And then returned it to its place with the rope for the pull starter simply tied to the pull handle, and some long metal band just draped over the mower.

You probably thought you were a good person for emptying the grasscatcher each time--and not even in my greens container (although you were surely tempted from time to time, I'll bet). You probably thought, "Sheesh, she leaves her yard such a jungle, she doesn't even miss the lawnmower. I'm really doing her a favor by keeping it going." You probably thought you were terrific for getting it right into my shed, just the way I left it. You might even have thought of approaching me after having broken the mower--but thought better of it and maybe it's even left your mind after one or two or twelve brewskies.

But I'm left with a broken mower that I can't get fixed, because the only place for miles and miles is closed today (despite its "MON 11-7" posted hours). And my wild jungle of a backyard won't be usable for my son's upcoming birthday party.

Thank you SO MUCH, you sorry excuse for a human being. You shit-covered waste of oxygen. I hope rats are chewing on your favorite, priceless baseball card right now, and that your wife is planning on running over your foot with the car, having found evidence of your cheating on her with your secretary, who isn't all that attractive and fairly frigid in bed anyway. You complete asswipe.

Sunday, April 03, 2005

I am a very small person

(in the derisive sense--"mean, petty" merriam-webster online says) We were just getting the paper invitations done for Graham's fifth birthday party, two weeks from yesterday. I was printing out the Spiderman-background invitations, and folding them, and Graham was writing the names on them (in proper upper- and lower-case, in most cases, Wow). We got to one name, a girl who has reportedly been telling Graham the stupid rules of society such as, "Boys don't wear purple/pink" "Boys can't wear dresses" (seen a priest lately?) "White shoes are only for girls" and other such rot. I combat it at home by repeating ad nauseum that "there are no colors just for boys & none just for girls, and anyone who says there are is just wrong" and "Anyone who talks that way isn't being a good friend." But I repeatedly hear from him yet more garbage reportedly from this child.

And yet, he put her on his list of invitees. Sigh. But I went along with it--and then when the time came for him to put her name on an invitation, he said he didn't want to. Trying to play the proverbial straight man, I asked why not. He said sometimes she smells stinky.

It's not the time to teach how personal hygiene is not a way to choose one's friends nor to discriminate--off she goes. And mom smiles. An evil, self-satisfied smile.