Geek Out!

I've had a little time on my hands lately, what with being out of work, so I have been trying to use my time wisely. Yesterday I decided a post-breakfast nap was in order, but most days I actually do something useful.

A few months ago my friend Ben posted a link to someone's brilliant idea on how to clean up your cluttered home office desk cheaply and easily using that pre-drilled wall board intended for garage/shop.

With this great idea in mind I went to the hardware store and purchased one 2 x 4 ft piece of pre-drilled wall board. Once I got home I layed out all of my equipment on it (on the floor) and started to zip tie it all in the most logical places. Modem, router, power source, and external hard drive, all previously taking up space on the desk, now have a home on the wall!

I did have to drill the wall board to the wall as the weight of all the gadgets were making it bend forward, but one seems to have done the trick.

Ryan asked if I wanted to move my Vanderbilt diploma which is now a bit hemmed in. I think it's a fitting place for it, given that this is the most MechE thing I have done in a while. (ok, it's really civil since it's not moving, or electrical since it's all computer stuff, but give me my moment, ok?)

IT Help Desk, how can I help you?

For years now, I have provided IT help for my parents. It's a part of our relationship that I don't mind, but mostly because they are teachable and eager to figure it out themselves.

Even when they lived in Argentina and being on the phone cost a dollar a minute, I remember helping my mom working through some sort of "icons mysteriously disappearing in Word" problem. (eventually needing a word reinstall). I kept encouraging her to find some kid in the neighborhood to help her out, but she liked dealing with me.

I'll also never forget the time I came over to my parents to visit to be met by cursing and yelling in the computer room. The printer had malfunctioned and my dad needed a document to be printed. He had asked for it to be printed 97 (!) times! Here's a lesson in "just because it doesn't look like it's listening, it's still remembers. But if it's not doing it, don't ask it 100 times". This is exactly the opposite tactic in raising kids, so I guess it's not a surprise he just kept asking over and over again.

Most recently I was on the phone for about 3 hours with my mom walking her through installing iTunes, installing an external hard drive, the ripping of her cds and the synching of her new iPod. The call would have been shorter if I hadn't spent an hour trying to install some sort of remote desktop management software so I could run her computer from mine (this was eventually unsuccessful as we figured out her dial up wasn't sufficient). She was on top of everything, I was just having trouble seeing what she was seeing. In retrospect, it was better that she had to work through it herself without me grabbing the handles and doing it for her.

Providing my parents this service is a good deal for both of us. I like to be able to help them out and they are good at learning and trying new things. I know my mom actually took my advice when I explained that I have a few philosophies when it comes to computers:
1) Look around, it's probably there somewhere
2) It's always worth trying to learn something new as it will save you time later
3) it isn't a malicious entity trying to ruin your life, it just follows directions you give it, give it dumb directions, get dumb actions.

Obviously my Mom gets it because I see her hunting around for new ways to do things on the computer. The fact that she was willing to get an external hard drive, iTunes, and an iPod without that much consternation means that she's gets it. And that's one reason it's fun to help her find the answers to the problems she is having.

It does make me wonder what kind of techno-boob I will be in the eyes of my kids. Obviously I will resist something, I am just not sure what it is yet.
Implanted cell phone? Probably will stick to my cell phone in my purse. It's just me, but I like to "forget it" sometimes. And I know everyone enjoys getting a purse call from me on occasion when I forget to lock it.

What would you do if you won a million dollars?

Yesterday was more drama around the Bates house. We had a hail storm on Wednesday night which downed trees (1), broke windows (3) and crushed cars (0 for us, thank god!). J's school was closed and I had an interview in the morning, so J went to work with Ryan.

After I was done I went to pick up J and took him to lunch. He and Ryan had had a pretty big spill while walking down the sidewalk downtown and J had some scratches on his face. He deserved a treat so he got to pick the lunch spot.

When I asked J where he wanted to go... no hesitation... Burger King!
"Why Burger King?"
"Because they have Indiana Jones Stuff!"
So we located a BK and went to enjoy the deep fried goodness.

At the moment Burger King is having a cross promotion with the new Indiana Jones movie. Not just the regular kids meal toys, but a game. Standard peel the thing off the cup to win a free fries game.

I thought J was going to have a heart attack when he found out there was a game with a MILLION dollars as the prize. I am sure all of the "everyone wins something" inclusion parenting that is prevalent at our home and school led us to the next 6 hours of debate...

Our one peel off resulted in a free shake. I am sure in J's mind, this was proof positive that we were going to win the million, we just needed to buy one more thing. He began his line of reasoning...

"We need to come back for dinner tonight. We will bring Dad and P and everyone will get a meal and then we have a 4 percent chance of winning!"
"If we come back two times a day until the game is over, we are certain to win!"

This went on for HOURS! He had it all worked out... until I explained that we would have to EAT the Burger King food two times a day for three weeks, and I wasn't sure if that was worth a million dollars (already feeling queezy from the lunch, ugh). My logic did not sway him, we had to go back now! Tonight! For Dinner!

We still didn't have electricity at dinner time so we went out, not to Burger King, much to J's disappointment (= crying). We did discuss what he would do with the million, once it was his. His generosity was nice to hear... A new house for us with two "extra rooms". One would be a princess room for his brother (squeals of delight from P when he heard the plan!) and an elaborately constructed Star Wars room for himself, complete with a mural on all four walls (he had them all figured out, some how I don't think a room of his own was a new fantasy). He added "a new Star Wars X wing" meaning the Lego sets, but it was fun to watch Ryan spin this into a full size mock up for J to play with in his custom room.

He's still lobbying to go to BK as much as possible, positive we are just one super fry away from the cash. I have promised one more trip before the game is finished. Now he's lobbying for us to SuperSize all four of our meals so we get that many more game pieces... where's the Pepcid?

Apparently I am that mom...

The other day in the car we were playing a game of silly names. We like to make up silly sounding nonsense words that sound a lot like the real name, but are totally ridiculous.

This incarnation was mostly centered around Star Wars Princesses & Queens.
Some offerings for Princess Amidala were...
Princess Wack-i-doodle
Princess I'm a doggie

Howls of laughter from the back seat.

Then I came up with "Princess Pizza Face" !?!! Where did that come from? It was greeted with laughter from the back, but some horror from the front. They just thought I was being funny, but in fact I was introducing them to those names... names which I hated as a kid.

So I was thinking back and wondering how that girl who joined the year book for the EXPRESS PURPOSE OF BEING IN THE BOOK (and has one lousy picture to show for all the work. Here it is. I see it hasn't improved with age. Still looking sullen, still peeling an orange, still below hot Kelly Fellers, sigh, oh, and Greg Frost is some hot shot at the Associated Press or something...) turns into that mom who is teaching her kids what Pizza Face means?

I love my kids and I think they have an even chance of not being permanently at the loser kids table, but mostly because being a geek is now cool. But I don't want them to be the ones armed with the mean words and the pithy taunts to other children who happen to have acne, braces, and glasses. (I can pretty much guarantee all of the above for J and P).

Recently Ryan and I have been wondering how Kindergarten is a microcosm of the future. There are already cool kids, fashion conscience kids, geeks who love Lego and Star Wars, and even a bit of a bully. They are tamer in all respects and there seems to be less exclusion at this point, but it's all there. We encourage J when he comes home and tells us he's now hanging out with someone new. But we also ask about what happened to the old friend we used to hear so much about?

So, I will watch what taunts I teach them. But it's too late for birthdays... be prepared to be told that you look like a monkey and you smell like one too. That was me. Sorry.

Internet Uphoria Lost! Bah!

I was mentally writing another post about how much I love the internet and how it makes seemingly simple things like getting a cake for your son's birthday so much easier until I was faced with the flip side... badly implemented great ideas.

So, let's say you are coming down from an all time terrible weekend where you
a) pulled your back throwing 40 lbs of kids into a ball pit, over and over
b) spent the rest of that day in bed
c) woke up on Mothers Day to a wonderful breakfast with your family, showered with love and presents only to crawl back in bed to recover
d) got up to make dinner for parents, only to have it be a crashing failure when your improvisation of the recipe you have and the recipe you remember and wish you had were different enough to cause a terrible meal to be delivered
e) oldest child starts vomiting
f) you start vomiting
g) youngest child starts vomiting
h) saint of a husband spends the night with kids, helping them
i) you spend the next day with kids at home, parents watching them (thank you sooooo much) and much of it in bed, or the bathroom
j) wake up the next morning still feeling terrible and have to cancel an interview that looks quite promising
k) go back to bed for hours
l) watch tv all day and still feel exhausted
m) go to bed only to NOT SLEEP for the majority of the night

Oh, I forgot the part where we figured it was the beautifully made and wonderfully tasting home made quiche that my husband served for Mother's Day breakfast was the suspected toxic food for much of this time. Happily, this has been rethought and it seems to be a store bought lasagna is more likely. Can I add that none of this was Ryan's fault?

So, here I sit, looking for something easy to make this upcoming birthday special with as little effort on my part as possible.
In comes Ben and Jerry's.
There is a scoop shop less than a mile from the house we are staying at the beach. I went to their web site and was pleased to find that they have lots of information about their shop and an INTERACTIVE CAKE CREATOR!!! All my Internet loving molecules went into overdrive.
Choose the size, the flavors of ice cream (P likes Vanilla with Heath Bar, I feel sure), the filling, the icing, the sprinkles, the writing on the top! So easy! Enter your name and address, email and phone and presto!

Waiting

Waiting

and then a weird blank popup with a helpful x to close it. That's it.

So, I'll call them later and see if they have 6 orders for a birthday cake for P or none at all.

Invention - Relative Time

I know what are thinking, Relative time is not an invention, and it has already been discovered! Einstein has beaten me to the punch. Just follow my logic...

Yesterday I was meeting a friend for lunch and I was running late. I HATE being late, it's just hardwired into my brain that you leave early enough to get there on time, even if it means you are a little early. It just so happens that I had over booked myself and was running from "coffee with the guys from Dovetail" to "margaritas at Hula Hut with Whitney" and I didn't actually leave until I was already late (sorry Whitney!). Which got me thinking...

We have a clock in the kitchen which, as expected, tells the time. It is set about 7 minutes fast. I can't remember if we did this on purpose or not, but it provides a great deal of help in the mornings when we are trying to get J out the door on time. Almost every morning there's some sort of pleading about getting dressed or eating faster because "we're already late" (that's me doing the pleading, Ryan is usually saying "you are fine"). We rush around and then we walk out the door at 7:40 to walk the block and a half in a rush only to get into the class room to find that we aren't late at all. J has time to put his stuff away and have a quick hug before the bell rings.

So this "bending of time" got me thinking. It would be great if the same clock could be programmed to be a little early when I (or Ryan) got home at night. Then those days when you are walking in the door at 6:10 and dinner wasn't even considered let alone started wouldn't feel like such a let-down already. You could have that relief of walking in the door, knowing it's late already and looking at the clock and saying "whew, it's not as late as I thought!"

So this brings me to my invention. A personal clock. Of course, this would have to be implanted in your head because it only works for you, but that's just details. This clock would know your habits and have solutions for them...
Habitually late? the clock would know to lie to you so that you aren't 40 minutes late to your kid's birthday party.
Hate commute time? your clock adjusts the time it takes you to drive across town by telling you it's only taken 20 minutes to drive to Lakeway!
Kids want to stay up a few extra minutes? Presto! "See it's already 8 now! You've been playing for the last 45 minutes!"

Some points of your schedule are bendy - like you want the hour you have to spend with your kids to last a little longer... see you spent an extra ten minutes with them and still have time to get to the doctor's, but the hour you had to wait to see the doctor should only feel like 50 minutes.

Of course, there are things the clock will have to take into consideration... appointments, for one. All this bendy time has to be matched up to a real time schedule so that your clock can get you to your destination at the "real time" and meet your friend for Margaritas on time.

Happily some modern conveniences like DVR's eliminate some scheduled activities like "Must See TV". We start watching shows at all times of the hour and finish in 50 minutes (sorry advertisters!), so I feel like I am already bending time to my will!

There's a few things to figure out, but it seems plausible. Let's take that feeling "wow! the time just flew by" or "is this ever going to end?" and use it to our advantage.

Of course, now that I know that the clock in the kitchen is fast, we'll really be late.

Will the other Suzy Bates, please stand up

It was bound to happen. For years I would talk to friends and they would say "I sent you an email!" and I would have nothing to show for it. Even my mom would send something to me and then I would find out later since I never received it.

Years ago when I choose my new gmail email address, I was forced to choose something other than the "suzybates" I really wanted. That name was already taken... so I went for suzywbates. As I started to hear that emails were being sent to "suzy without the w" I was hoping that that email address was a defunct address as I am sure a number of my important communiques where sitting there... I really needed that picture of the dog!

Well, the other Suzy has finally stood up. I am in the process of looking for a job and have been emailing with a recruiter to set up a phone interview for this afternoon. Apparently in the hand off from one to the other, my "w" got left behind and the Other Suzy started getting emails about moving my interview back an hour. Happily, this very nice lady (who apparently lives in Japan!) informed the recruiter of her mistake and then sent me an email informing me of the same. She also asked if my kid was in Chess Club, as she had been receiving emails from them too...

So, now I know. She's out there. Living in Japan. Reading my email. I am sure she's trilled to know that the end of year Chess Club party is on Friday!

That's an Adult Movie

More and more lately we have been talking to the kids about things that are in the grown up world. We refer to these things as "Adult" versions of things they are familiar with:

Adult Lemonade: Margarita
Adult TV: Shows we watch after they go to bed
Adult Movies: This sounds worse than it is, it's just not Dora Saves the Mermaid Kingdom

Since J is 6 and now exposed to older kids at school and aftercare, he's becoming more interested in the world of adults. The other night Ryan and I were watching "How I Met Your Mother" and at one point there was some physical comedy where Barney gets punched in the crotch. Crude, yes, but funny enough to chuckle (and Barney deserved some sort of response from Ted!). As soon as the punch was delivered we heard a big giggle from the doorway. J had been hanging out in the adjacent room covertly watching our Adult TV for a while and was tickled by this scene enough to break cover. We had trouble holding a straight face while we herded what turned out to be both boys back to bed.

The other night at dinner we were recounting our day. Ryan's was about his day at work, J and P their (mostly silent, what's with boys never telling your anything?) school exploits and then I talked about my day. I had spent the day hanging around the house and I exercised while watching Martha Stewart. Martha... someone who used to be a large obsession. I STILL own her stock that I bought on the day she went public (I think I have mentioned here not to take my advice when it comes to investments... so here's a nice graphic illustrating the point...) The funny part was when P asked "What's Martha?" Ryan explained "Martha is like Backyardigans for Mommies", so true.

I have always believed in not limiting TV to just kids shows when they are around... I don't want them to think that all things are for them... but we haven't had the TV on much lately when they are around, so I think we've established the pattern anyways. Will they survive not having seen Martha? Yes. Ryan thinks we should introduce Gilligan's Island (there's some physical comedy for you), but it's not on TV anywhere we can find.

It's Cinco De Mayo... so enjoy some Adult Lemonade!

With my Mint, Now I have Guilt

So when I dreamed about hiring someone to clean my house, I wasn't really aware this is what it would be like... of course I didn't think I would be at home not working when they came, so maybe that is the real problem.

I have a long history of uncomfortable standoffs with cleanliness. Much of it could probably be traced back to my mother and her sense of well being with a clean house. I can remember many adolescent moments where she would insist I clean my room and I would insist she close the door. I don't remember winning many of these arguments, I am guessing my mom remembers not winning either, so begins the standoff.

After I moved out of the dorm and into an apartment of my own, started my first job, started to get a real grown up life I remember thinking that I was trying to find my level of cleanliness. Whenever I had a roommate my standards seemed to rise, it was easier to keep it clean with some level of peer pressure around, but when I was on my own I was pretty unconcerned with clutter and had a mild tolerance for dirt.

Then I met my husband, at the time potential husband. He is what I am learning is a regular guy when it comes to cleanliness. He lived in a house with 3 other guys when we started dating and I remember refusing to spend the night at his house because of the dark green mold taking over the shower and the general level of squalor in the kitchen. I couldn't understand how he could live there, and apparently he didn't like it much either as he practically moved in to my duplex where I lived alone (and admits that that house was particularly terrible). His living situation seemed to be Cold War standoff where they were allowing an escalation of dirt and would see who could take it the longest. Also, they knew that Bill, one of the roommates who was out of town much of the time. had a low tolerance for filth and when he came back he'd clean it up.

So, we're young, we're in love, we've shacked up together and we are working out how to work it out. Things started out well where I had high standards and he tried and failed to meet them and then I got to take the moral high ground and insist that his definition of clean wouldn't meet the minimum health codes. I think almost every fight we have had in our 11 year relationship was related to cleaning or sparked by some cleaning/sharing of duties situation. What eventually happened is that in an effort to meet half way/share the work and take advantage of the post-feminist world where we can expect our husbands to carry half the load, I had to lower my standards. He raised his so that dishes aren't left in the sink for days, but I lowered mine so that I wasn't doing everything and then feeling bitter and resentful.

So what does this compromise mean? It means that I live in a house which is livable, but by no means perfect. There's usually a collection of dishes waiting patiently on the side of the sink to be put into the dishwasher and the laundry takes sometimes up to a week to get all the way through the process. Ryan and I have pretty civil conversations about who's doing too much and too little, and we have a well established definition of both.

Which brings me to the housecleaners who now come weekly and make my house shine. They have removed the crumbs under the glass on top of the wooden countertops. They dust the pictures, blinds, and baseboards. And the bathroom smells like sunshine on a weekly basis (with three boys in the house, that doesn't last long).

So what's the problem? Now I am at home all day and I spend a good deal of my time feeling guilty because my house IS clean and I wasn't the one who did it, not like I was going to do it, but still.