It's been a rough week, topped off by a difficult Sunday, punctuated with Toddler J saying (and signing) "Daddy!" loudly throughout church while the husband sat on the stand, within eyesight but out of reach. Then J refused to stay in nursery, calling first for Daddy, who sat with him for about an hour and then for Mommy, who took him with her to her next meeting and pawned him off on her long-suffering friend on whom he has a toddler crush and for whom he sat quietly for the next hour, helped by a well timed cookie from the teacher. (Thanks, Becca!)
But the week had already been sort of a farce by that point, with the husband returning sick as a dog from Las Vegas and J continuing his sinus and ear infection, though untimely antibiotics for J on Monday and for the husband on Wednesday helped to salvage their health, eventually. In the meantime, our annual progressive dinner for the women's organization, which seemed to me to have been going fine, was apparently pissing people off right and left, and I somehow got blamed, though for what, exactly, I'm still not sure. Along with all this, Baby #2 has been fighting me all week and winning, pummeling my insides as he tries to carve out more space for himself, so all week long I have felt like a washed up boxer forced to return as a publicity stunt despite being wildly out of shape. And Saturday was the husband's annual men's chorus Christmas concert, at which we proved definitively that J is not concert going material yet, though he LOVES running around and up and down stairs in concert hall lobbies!
In short, I'm looking forward to a better week. It honestly can't be worse, so there's that.
And today's our 7th anniversary, though we're opting to celebrate on Saturday once what promises to be yet another crazy week is mostly behind us (Mary and Joseph at the church Christmas party, office Christmas shenanigans for the husband, office Christmas gifts to make, packing, etc etc etc). 7th anniversary gifts have been a challenge, what with the options being wool, copper, or desk sets....really? Desk sets?
Showing posts with label frustrations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label frustrations. Show all posts
Monday, December 14, 2009
Sunday, December 06, 2009
A candle lights his head
We interrupt our regularly schedule blogging for this important announcement: we have been released as Seminary teachers! As of their Christmas break, December 18th, we will no longer have the boys (and the one girl) over any more, nor will we have to get up at 5:30am every week day and be, you know, all spiritual...or something like that. My hope is that now my first child will learn how to sleep past 6:00am on a good day, and my second child will never know that such awful times in the morning actually exist! All we'll have left to do are the innumerable end of the quarter reports for our officious supervisor (that I will NOT miss! Huzzah!!) and the obligatory mourning that we won't see the kids as regularly or on such an up close and personal basis. They drive me crazy sometimes, but they really are fun to have around.
BUT, before you send congratulatory or conciliatory thoughts our way, know that this release was quickly followed by the husband getting a different assignment, one that came out of the blue and entails even more responsibility, much to our collective chagrin. By the time I post this on Sunday, it will all be official, so I can tell you that now he is 1st counselor in the bishopric. ACK! For my uninitiated readers, this means he is now part of the group who take care of all the administrative details (both temporal and secular) of our congregation. It means he's gone more to meetings, which will through a crimp in our very satisfactory bedtime routine with J. It means he will sit on the stand during our Sacrament meeting, which will be a new challenge for us to face with Toddler J, who is very possessive of his parents right now, and with Baby #2 on the way, since I'm pretty sure he'll want to be fed and have diapers changed during that meeting and Toddler J will be just as accommodating about that as he will be about being separated from daddy, whom he'll already be seeing less of. It means the husband will have more to do all around but also that we will have more blessings for his service, so I'm counting on some of those blessings to help ease my Terrible Two Year Old through the transition. For now, I'm still in the presidency of the women's organization, but we'll have to play that by ear and see if we as a family can handle doing both at the same time. I know, I know, people do this all the time, people like my parents, for instance, but I'm a big wuss, okay??
In the meantime, the husband is out of town in Las Vegas at pharmacy's annual convention where he is, among other things, sussing out some potential job prospects in places not here. So our tenure could be shorter than everyone thinks. Plus, we've all gotten yucky colds after all our travels, colds that keep getting worse and worse. J's is the worst, of course, and he's miserable, as is his mommy and, apparently, so is the husband. So just a little bit of stress around here!
BUT, before you send congratulatory or conciliatory thoughts our way, know that this release was quickly followed by the husband getting a different assignment, one that came out of the blue and entails even more responsibility, much to our collective chagrin. By the time I post this on Sunday, it will all be official, so I can tell you that now he is 1st counselor in the bishopric. ACK! For my uninitiated readers, this means he is now part of the group who take care of all the administrative details (both temporal and secular) of our congregation. It means he's gone more to meetings, which will through a crimp in our very satisfactory bedtime routine with J. It means he will sit on the stand during our Sacrament meeting, which will be a new challenge for us to face with Toddler J, who is very possessive of his parents right now, and with Baby #2 on the way, since I'm pretty sure he'll want to be fed and have diapers changed during that meeting and Toddler J will be just as accommodating about that as he will be about being separated from daddy, whom he'll already be seeing less of. It means the husband will have more to do all around but also that we will have more blessings for his service, so I'm counting on some of those blessings to help ease my Terrible Two Year Old through the transition. For now, I'm still in the presidency of the women's organization, but we'll have to play that by ear and see if we as a family can handle doing both at the same time. I know, I know, people do this all the time, people like my parents, for instance, but I'm a big wuss, okay??
In the meantime, the husband is out of town in Las Vegas at pharmacy's annual convention where he is, among other things, sussing out some potential job prospects in places not here. So our tenure could be shorter than everyone thinks. Plus, we've all gotten yucky colds after all our travels, colds that keep getting worse and worse. J's is the worst, of course, and he's miserable, as is his mommy and, apparently, so is the husband. So just a little bit of stress around here!
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Everybody have fun tonight
We have returned! And my oh my, what an exciting trip. Well, at least the actual traveling part of the trip was exciting, though not in a good way. The actual visiting part was nice and relaxed and quite pleasant, though exciting would be a stretch. But all in all, a great Thanksgiving! Here's the travel portion of the story, to be followed in the next few days by the visiting portion of the story, complete with pics. (You don't want pics of this next part, trust me!)
Our flight(s) out were more eventful than necessary, owing to some inexplicable traffic that kept us on the island FOREVER and made us uncomfortably on-time for our flight. This delay was compounded by a kiosk snafu caused by our "special item," the car seat, which was apparently too much for both the online check-in and our subsequent kiosk check-in as well as two different desk agents too handle. Why oh why do airlines have policies if none of their employees bother to read them? Eventually, we did get our boarding passes and headed over to crack Charleston security, where our suspicious chocolate milk and apple sauce caused our bags to be screened separately (even though I had separated these items and alerted the screener, per TSA regulations). Then I was told I had to be screened separately as well, since I brought in the apple sauce, so over I went, holding J and had to hold out first one and then the other arm, still while holding J because the kid had no shoes on, since his shoes were being x-rayed, of course. The screener was VERY careful going over my pregnant belly, clearly the most suspicious thing of all, while J was dangling precariously from my arm and the husband was busy trying to gather up three people's worth of shoes, bags, and strollers. And what to our wondering ears should appear but the gate agents calling our flight moments after we finally escaped security. Thank you, Charleston!
Coming home was just as eventful, if more, umm, humiliating? Checking in was a nightmare of disorganization, and security was inordinately protracted, even without special screening. The flight from Phoenix to Atlanta was long and oversold, so we ended up with a window and a middle seat next to a woman who promptly fell asleep as soon as we took off. Fine for her, but not so good for my bladder, since it meant I got up only once to hit the facilities with J. The flight was okay besides this, but just before we landed, J fell fast asleep, perfectly timed, of course, since we had a tight 30 minute connection in Atlanta. So I got off the plane with him and went to the gate to sit and wait while the husband waited for the gate checked stroller. And waited. And waited. And waited...until finally the pilot arrived and went down and up came the stroller, after everyone had already gotten off the plane. The husband came roaring out, threw J in the stroller, slung my bag on back and took off running, since we were at A1 and had to get to B1, two entire concourses away. I ran off after him, holding my belly, and, after a few gates, realized the flaw in my bathroom planning. That's right, ladies and gentlemen: I peed my pants. The pregnant bladder can only handle so much, and running on full is apparently not in the cards. So I slowed down to a fast walk, which was fine, but I saw the husband getting further and further away and realized this would never do, so I blessed the fact I was wearing black pants, steeled myself to the inevitable indignity of it all, cursed Atlanta, and alternated running and peeing with fast walking. Needless to say, by the time we arrived at our plane, I was soaked. And dying a little inside. But there was no rest for the weary, as we were virtually the last people on board. I am trying to ignore the fact that then we waited at the gate for another 20 minutes for a maintenance person to sign some sort of paperwork, as the pilot kindly informed us.
As I said, no one wants pictures of what we all looked like by the time we got to Charleston, by which point J, too, had wet through his clothes, there having been no opportunity to change anyone in Atlanta and no chance to get up on the next flight. We were happy to be home and only slightly the worse for wear, but I do wish things had gone just a TAD more smoothly on the way back (or that I had packed an extra pair of pants)!
Our flight(s) out were more eventful than necessary, owing to some inexplicable traffic that kept us on the island FOREVER and made us uncomfortably on-time for our flight. This delay was compounded by a kiosk snafu caused by our "special item," the car seat, which was apparently too much for both the online check-in and our subsequent kiosk check-in as well as two different desk agents too handle. Why oh why do airlines have policies if none of their employees bother to read them? Eventually, we did get our boarding passes and headed over to crack Charleston security, where our suspicious chocolate milk and apple sauce caused our bags to be screened separately (even though I had separated these items and alerted the screener, per TSA regulations). Then I was told I had to be screened separately as well, since I brought in the apple sauce, so over I went, holding J and had to hold out first one and then the other arm, still while holding J because the kid had no shoes on, since his shoes were being x-rayed, of course. The screener was VERY careful going over my pregnant belly, clearly the most suspicious thing of all, while J was dangling precariously from my arm and the husband was busy trying to gather up three people's worth of shoes, bags, and strollers. And what to our wondering ears should appear but the gate agents calling our flight moments after we finally escaped security. Thank you, Charleston!
Coming home was just as eventful, if more, umm, humiliating? Checking in was a nightmare of disorganization, and security was inordinately protracted, even without special screening. The flight from Phoenix to Atlanta was long and oversold, so we ended up with a window and a middle seat next to a woman who promptly fell asleep as soon as we took off. Fine for her, but not so good for my bladder, since it meant I got up only once to hit the facilities with J. The flight was okay besides this, but just before we landed, J fell fast asleep, perfectly timed, of course, since we had a tight 30 minute connection in Atlanta. So I got off the plane with him and went to the gate to sit and wait while the husband waited for the gate checked stroller. And waited. And waited. And waited...until finally the pilot arrived and went down and up came the stroller, after everyone had already gotten off the plane. The husband came roaring out, threw J in the stroller, slung my bag on back and took off running, since we were at A1 and had to get to B1, two entire concourses away. I ran off after him, holding my belly, and, after a few gates, realized the flaw in my bathroom planning. That's right, ladies and gentlemen: I peed my pants. The pregnant bladder can only handle so much, and running on full is apparently not in the cards. So I slowed down to a fast walk, which was fine, but I saw the husband getting further and further away and realized this would never do, so I blessed the fact I was wearing black pants, steeled myself to the inevitable indignity of it all, cursed Atlanta, and alternated running and peeing with fast walking. Needless to say, by the time we arrived at our plane, I was soaked. And dying a little inside. But there was no rest for the weary, as we were virtually the last people on board. I am trying to ignore the fact that then we waited at the gate for another 20 minutes for a maintenance person to sign some sort of paperwork, as the pilot kindly informed us.
As I said, no one wants pictures of what we all looked like by the time we got to Charleston, by which point J, too, had wet through his clothes, there having been no opportunity to change anyone in Atlanta and no chance to get up on the next flight. We were happy to be home and only slightly the worse for wear, but I do wish things had gone just a TAD more smoothly on the way back (or that I had packed an extra pair of pants)!
Saturday, April 04, 2009
And getting caught in the rain
"A wicked and adulterous generation seeketh after a sign." Matt. 16:4
In my church, we talk a lot about signs. There are some signs you should heed, like the signs of the times, for instance, but, generally speaking, we hew pretty true to Matthew here and say that you shouldn't look for signs and base your decisions on them or use them to determine your path. Because, well, that's wicked. And also adulterous, apparently.
So I'm not one to consider things that happen in my daily life as "signs." Which is certainly helpful on days like today, when, if I were a believer in signs, I would have assumed I was doomed. Instead, I am able to laugh (and blog) about it all after the fact. Tra la la la la, no wickedness here!
I decided, mostly last minute, to have a brunch today. I've been craving Easter brunch recipes, but we can't really have an Easter brunch because of our church schedule, so, instead, I decided that since today is semi-annual conference day for us and church doesn't begin until noon in our time zone, I would have a brunch today. (And also, I ordered some run-on sentences, apparently.) I called a few of our friends, found a few recipes I wanted to try, and spent a few days cleaning my terribly messy house. (When there's actual mud on your bathroom floor from your son's trips into the garden before bath time, can you still really call that messy? Oh, good!) I was even a planning genius and made most of the food last night, so there would be minimal prep today. And the chopping and assembling and baking last night went splendidly. Huzzah!
Cut to this morning. J woke up at 6 am, which was early but fine because we still had some cleaning and cooking to do. At precisely 6:04, the husband's work called. Pharmacist down, husband must go into work and (praypraypray) find a replacement or (nooooooo!) work the shift himself. So off he went, leaving J and me to "clean" together, which largely consisted of me mopping and him taking everything out of every cabinet and tracking through the mopping. But whatever, we shouldered on.
Then I inspected my monkey bread, which I had left out to rise the night before as instructed by numerous recipes. Only it hadn't risen at all and instead was a mound of hard, tiny dough balls and butter and sugar. No worries! Okay, many worries, because this was my sweet, so I dumped it out, grabbed some Pillsbury mini-cinnamon rolls, broke them up and tossed them in the same pan and put them in to bake immediately in case that didn't work, because who knew if it would?? (It did, only I forgot to turn them out of the pan soon enough, so lots stuck and were lost).
No problem. We still have plenty of time! I'll just go work on the fruit salad, very calmly. J will like that, since it involves grapes he can inha--I mean, eat. And, to save time I no longer have, I'll use these handy cans of Dole pineapple chunks! Except, what to my wondering eyes should appear when I popped open the first can but a thick, furry, green island of mold! In a can! From DOLE! And these were new cans, too, not even cans of questionable length of time in my cupboard (because Lord knows I've got those). And they were brand name cans, not even questionable store brand, knock off, severe and therefore suspect sale versions (which I also have in droves, of course).
By the time J refused to go down for a nap and the husband finally got a replacement and arrived home at 9:30 am, just a half hour before guests arrived, I was frazzled. Luckily, however, I don't believe in signs, and everything else went smoothly. The ham and spinach strata, a new recipe and the one thing I was actually worried about? Lovely and yummy. The fruit salad (with the other, much inspected can of pineapple) in the trifle bowl? Great. The pseudo monkey bread? One of the little girls wanted to make sure her mom brought some home with them. The veggie squares? A hit as usual. My friends brought pina-coladas, which were fancy and delicious, and chocolate muffins which were secretly made with wheat germ and blueberries and all sorts of healthiness and were great. There was lots of food and no one cried, including me. Success!
In my church, we talk a lot about signs. There are some signs you should heed, like the signs of the times, for instance, but, generally speaking, we hew pretty true to Matthew here and say that you shouldn't look for signs and base your decisions on them or use them to determine your path. Because, well, that's wicked. And also adulterous, apparently.
So I'm not one to consider things that happen in my daily life as "signs." Which is certainly helpful on days like today, when, if I were a believer in signs, I would have assumed I was doomed. Instead, I am able to laugh (and blog) about it all after the fact. Tra la la la la, no wickedness here!
I decided, mostly last minute, to have a brunch today. I've been craving Easter brunch recipes, but we can't really have an Easter brunch because of our church schedule, so, instead, I decided that since today is semi-annual conference day for us and church doesn't begin until noon in our time zone, I would have a brunch today. (And also, I ordered some run-on sentences, apparently.) I called a few of our friends, found a few recipes I wanted to try, and spent a few days cleaning my terribly messy house. (When there's actual mud on your bathroom floor from your son's trips into the garden before bath time, can you still really call that messy? Oh, good!) I was even a planning genius and made most of the food last night, so there would be minimal prep today. And the chopping and assembling and baking last night went splendidly. Huzzah!
Cut to this morning. J woke up at 6 am, which was early but fine because we still had some cleaning and cooking to do. At precisely 6:04, the husband's work called. Pharmacist down, husband must go into work and (praypraypray) find a replacement or (nooooooo!) work the shift himself. So off he went, leaving J and me to "clean" together, which largely consisted of me mopping and him taking everything out of every cabinet and tracking through the mopping. But whatever, we shouldered on.
Then I inspected my monkey bread, which I had left out to rise the night before as instructed by numerous recipes. Only it hadn't risen at all and instead was a mound of hard, tiny dough balls and butter and sugar. No worries! Okay, many worries, because this was my sweet, so I dumped it out, grabbed some Pillsbury mini-cinnamon rolls, broke them up and tossed them in the same pan and put them in to bake immediately in case that didn't work, because who knew if it would?? (It did, only I forgot to turn them out of the pan soon enough, so lots stuck and were lost).
No problem. We still have plenty of time! I'll just go work on the fruit salad, very calmly. J will like that, since it involves grapes he can inha--I mean, eat. And, to save time I no longer have, I'll use these handy cans of Dole pineapple chunks! Except, what to my wondering eyes should appear when I popped open the first can but a thick, furry, green island of mold! In a can! From DOLE! And these were new cans, too, not even cans of questionable length of time in my cupboard (because Lord knows I've got those). And they were brand name cans, not even questionable store brand, knock off, severe and therefore suspect sale versions (which I also have in droves, of course).
By the time J refused to go down for a nap and the husband finally got a replacement and arrived home at 9:30 am, just a half hour before guests arrived, I was frazzled. Luckily, however, I don't believe in signs, and everything else went smoothly. The ham and spinach strata, a new recipe and the one thing I was actually worried about? Lovely and yummy. The fruit salad (with the other, much inspected can of pineapple) in the trifle bowl? Great. The pseudo monkey bread? One of the little girls wanted to make sure her mom brought some home with them. The veggie squares? A hit as usual. My friends brought pina-coladas, which were fancy and delicious, and chocolate muffins which were secretly made with wheat germ and blueberries and all sorts of healthiness and were great. There was lots of food and no one cried, including me. Success!
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Blame it on the stars
We, meaning Blogger et al, appear to be having some technical difficulties. If you visit this page, you may see nothing. If you refresh, you should see something, at least briefly. If you have this problem, please let me know in a comment or an email, so I can keep harassing them into fixing the problem.
Darn technology!
Darn technology!
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
We have heard on high
Today we exercised our right to vote. Which also meant we exercised our right to stand in line three and a half hours at a polling place that only had one working voting machine for much of that time. And our right to deal with an increasingly cranky baby who was awakened after finally going to sleep by an old woman who felt the need to peel out of the parking lot for no good reason in her pickup, the dashboard of which she could hardly see over as she careened away. And our right to make friends with the people ahead of and behind us, even as we wished the people just ahead of them would stop smoking and the people just behind them would turn down their iPhone that was apparently playing some high school talent show involving music by the Backstreet Boys sung as loudly and as badly as possible. And our right to get progressively colder outside as the morning progressed and to swelter inside the polling place, the multipurpose building at our neighborhood park. You get the idea.
We went as a family, trundling Baby J along in his stroller and then strolling him endlessly in place and around the neighborhood as time passed ever soooo slowly. Eventually, I sent the husband and J home for drinks, Ibuprofen, and a camp stool. The walk there resulted in the long delayed nap, but that was spoiled by the insane woman in the truck. Even so, J was a trooper for most of the morning, only really starting to melt down as we headed into hour four and were actually inside but still far away from voting because of triple lines snaking around a very small space. When we finally did reach the head of the line, just as I was about to step forward to vote, another old woman in a wheelchair was wheeled in front of me by her anxious son. At that point, of course, what was one more delay in the name of helping the elderly and the disabled? Sadly, J didn't see it that way. He'd been excited about the prospect of seeing something new (the ballot machine) and then was very upset when we STILL weren't on our way there.
We did get to vote, finally, and I tried not be concerned about our paperless machines. And it wasn't an awful time, even given all of the above. The line was very friendly, with people sharing pages explaining the amendments we were to vote on and a random woman showing up with coffee and candy (the husband says she has to be the wife of a candidate because otherwise "no one does that"). Everyone was very understanding about Baby J, even in the close quarters of the polling place where he was showing off his least socially desirable behavior.
Huzzah! Democracy in action! On to waiting anxiously for the results!
We went as a family, trundling Baby J along in his stroller and then strolling him endlessly in place and around the neighborhood as time passed ever soooo slowly. Eventually, I sent the husband and J home for drinks, Ibuprofen, and a camp stool. The walk there resulted in the long delayed nap, but that was spoiled by the insane woman in the truck. Even so, J was a trooper for most of the morning, only really starting to melt down as we headed into hour four and were actually inside but still far away from voting because of triple lines snaking around a very small space. When we finally did reach the head of the line, just as I was about to step forward to vote, another old woman in a wheelchair was wheeled in front of me by her anxious son. At that point, of course, what was one more delay in the name of helping the elderly and the disabled? Sadly, J didn't see it that way. He'd been excited about the prospect of seeing something new (the ballot machine) and then was very upset when we STILL weren't on our way there.
We did get to vote, finally, and I tried not be concerned about our paperless machines. And it wasn't an awful time, even given all of the above. The line was very friendly, with people sharing pages explaining the amendments we were to vote on and a random woman showing up with coffee and candy (the husband says she has to be the wife of a candidate because otherwise "no one does that"). Everyone was very understanding about Baby J, even in the close quarters of the polling place where he was showing off his least socially desirable behavior.
Huzzah! Democracy in action! On to waiting anxiously for the results!
Thursday, October 02, 2008
C is for cookie
I'm making cookies today while the baby naps. Pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, one of my tried and true fewer than five ingredients recipes. This one involves a spice cake mix (or a white cake mix and pumpkin pie spice, in a pinch. Or yellow cake mix and cinnamon and nutmeg, in an even greater pinch. It's a method, really), a can of pure pumpkin (NOT pumpkin pie filling, just pumpkin), and chocolate chips, as many as you think necessary. It's a transplanted recipe from UT that my mother called to share as soon as she found out about it because where do you think I get my love of all things simple in the kitchen??
I was going to jazz up the recipe by adding chopped pecans, but then I thought, why mess with a good thing? I may still, however, drizzle some cinnamon powered sugar glaze over them to make them more...ummm...special? shower appropriate? pretty? I was inspired by a woman in our congregation who made similar cookies and included the icing drizzle over some of them. Well, her cookies were actually three varieties, plain pumpkin, chocolate chip, and nuts, and they weren't so much drop cookies as perfectly formed circles, and they didn't so much come from a mix and a can as totally from scratch. But other than that, they were exactly the same! Regardless, the icing looked like a simple addition of two more ingredients (water doesn't count) with a big TA-DA factor (if I can do it as artfully as she did, a real question. However, I am more confident in my cooking abilities than I am in my artistic abilities, generally.) I'm sure I've mentioned these cookies before, since they are a favorite of mine, particularly once Fall has arrived and the ingredients are more readily available.
J is asleep, which is why I'm making them now, because his new crawling abilities make him a liability in the kitchen when I have to use the oven. So I'm making the cookies VERY QUIETLY so he stays asleep. I feel like all noises in the kitchen, just down the hall from his room, are amplified an hundred fold and he is not the most solid sleeper. The husband used to say, back when J was taking 25 minute naps, that the baby could "sleep through anything for half an hour" but then he would always wake up. I wanted to smack the husband every time he said this, since sad experience had taught me that the baby would, in fact, not sleep through much at all, ever. The husband would say I'm obsessive about noises (particularly those he makes), but I would say I'm just circumspect. And desperate for J to stay asleep at any cost!!!
I was going to jazz up the recipe by adding chopped pecans, but then I thought, why mess with a good thing? I may still, however, drizzle some cinnamon powered sugar glaze over them to make them more...ummm...special? shower appropriate? pretty? I was inspired by a woman in our congregation who made similar cookies and included the icing drizzle over some of them. Well, her cookies were actually three varieties, plain pumpkin, chocolate chip, and nuts, and they weren't so much drop cookies as perfectly formed circles, and they didn't so much come from a mix and a can as totally from scratch. But other than that, they were exactly the same! Regardless, the icing looked like a simple addition of two more ingredients (water doesn't count) with a big TA-DA factor (if I can do it as artfully as she did, a real question. However, I am more confident in my cooking abilities than I am in my artistic abilities, generally.) I'm sure I've mentioned these cookies before, since they are a favorite of mine, particularly once Fall has arrived and the ingredients are more readily available.
J is asleep, which is why I'm making them now, because his new crawling abilities make him a liability in the kitchen when I have to use the oven. So I'm making the cookies VERY QUIETLY so he stays asleep. I feel like all noises in the kitchen, just down the hall from his room, are amplified an hundred fold and he is not the most solid sleeper. The husband used to say, back when J was taking 25 minute naps, that the baby could "sleep through anything for half an hour" but then he would always wake up. I wanted to smack the husband every time he said this, since sad experience had taught me that the baby would, in fact, not sleep through much at all, ever. The husband would say I'm obsessive about noises (particularly those he makes), but I would say I'm just circumspect. And desperate for J to stay asleep at any cost!!!
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Higher than an eagle
Rant time: When we moved here, I was distressed to learn that though we work for a hospital, our medical insurance left a little to be desired. Well, a lot, particularly after our fabulous insurance in Philadelphia (ahh, incredibly powerful unions!). Our insurance options were limited, and the only 100% option (a must for people like me with preexisting conditions) was expensive. Then it got more so. But we toughed it out because it was the lesser of many evils.
Then the hospital decided to discontinue this plan, leaving us to choose from the rest of the evils. So I've been investigating what we're left with and, can I just say, the results aren't pretty. First we have a 90%/10% HMO which costs the same as our original policy and has lower co-pays but higher deductibles and huge payments for both inpatient and outpatient procedures beyond the deductibles and you need referrals for everything beyond your PCP, which our last plan finally eliminated last year. Our second option has cheaper monthly payments but is a 80%/20% plan, much scarier, higher deductibles, and virtually no preventative medicine allowance, including, I kid you not, no coverage for annual OBGYN appointments, which is criminal, as far as I'm concerned. There is some sort of loophole, apparently, that may or may not mean that inpatient or outpatient procedures done at the hospital will waive the 20% we owe, but, surprise, surprise, it's not clear at all if this is actually the case, a gentleman's agreement not written down anywhere, or a myth.
And these are our two best options. I use the term best loosely. Why all these people here who work for a hospital have not rebelled against this shoddy coverage is beyond me, but SC has never been particularly progressive about, well, anything, so I guess it's easier to accept things as they are than agitate. But seriously, people, this is ridiculous! Rock, hard place, here I come.
Then the hospital decided to discontinue this plan, leaving us to choose from the rest of the evils. So I've been investigating what we're left with and, can I just say, the results aren't pretty. First we have a 90%/10% HMO which costs the same as our original policy and has lower co-pays but higher deductibles and huge payments for both inpatient and outpatient procedures beyond the deductibles and you need referrals for everything beyond your PCP, which our last plan finally eliminated last year. Our second option has cheaper monthly payments but is a 80%/20% plan, much scarier, higher deductibles, and virtually no preventative medicine allowance, including, I kid you not, no coverage for annual OBGYN appointments, which is criminal, as far as I'm concerned. There is some sort of loophole, apparently, that may or may not mean that inpatient or outpatient procedures done at the hospital will waive the 20% we owe, but, surprise, surprise, it's not clear at all if this is actually the case, a gentleman's agreement not written down anywhere, or a myth.
And these are our two best options. I use the term best loosely. Why all these people here who work for a hospital have not rebelled against this shoddy coverage is beyond me, but SC has never been particularly progressive about, well, anything, so I guess it's easier to accept things as they are than agitate. But seriously, people, this is ridiculous! Rock, hard place, here I come.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
I gotta think twice
We appear to be having some technical difficulties with the pictures in the web gallery. When you click on an album, it looks like all the pictures are blanks. HOwever, if you click on the individual seemingly blank boxes, individual pictures do indeed appear. You can't get an overview of the shots this way, but you can still see individual shots one at a time. We (and by we I mean the husband) are working to fix this situation, so stay tuned while we overcome our tech issues. In the meantime....
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Friday, September 26, 2008
What became of the monk?
Let's talk about squirrels.
Let's talk about the kamikaze squirrels who hurl themselves at our windows, get stuck on the screens, hang there twitching for a while, and then hurtle to the ground.
Let's talk about the squirrels who may or may not be living in our attic. I'm choosing to label them squirrels because we've seen no internal evidence of mice or rats and that prospect is just too creepy to address, anyway (that's my Room 101, people. Deal with it.). They are either living in the attic or very active at night running across the roof. I can't tell, but I only hear them then, when I'm feeding the baby, so I can't run outside and check to see if they are scampering above the roof or (hopefully not) below it.
Let's talk about the squirrels who caper around in our hazardous pine tree. It was clearly once hit by lightening, so half of the branches are missing, and it's very likely going to fall to the ground at some point. But the squirrels love it. And they like to rain the pine cones down on our roof suddenly...and loudly.
Let's talk about the squirrels who, despite their many antics, move too quickly for J to see them, thereby making me look silly every time I shout "Look at the squirrel" and he turns to see...nothing. And wonder why his mommy is crazy.
Let's talk about the kamikaze squirrels who hurl themselves at our windows, get stuck on the screens, hang there twitching for a while, and then hurtle to the ground.
Let's talk about the squirrels who may or may not be living in our attic. I'm choosing to label them squirrels because we've seen no internal evidence of mice or rats and that prospect is just too creepy to address, anyway (that's my Room 101, people. Deal with it.). They are either living in the attic or very active at night running across the roof. I can't tell, but I only hear them then, when I'm feeding the baby, so I can't run outside and check to see if they are scampering above the roof or (hopefully not) below it.
Let's talk about the squirrels who caper around in our hazardous pine tree. It was clearly once hit by lightening, so half of the branches are missing, and it's very likely going to fall to the ground at some point. But the squirrels love it. And they like to rain the pine cones down on our roof suddenly...and loudly.
Let's talk about the squirrels who, despite their many antics, move too quickly for J to see them, thereby making me look silly every time I shout "Look at the squirrel" and he turns to see...nothing. And wonder why his mommy is crazy.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Cowboy, take me away
You would think that since I am writing again this soon, AT&T must have stepped up and resolved all my problems satisfactorily. Sadly, you'd be wrong.
So the landline to cell phone switch occurred, but we awoke this morning to continued internet service, which wasn't supposed to happen. So on the phones I went and, after talking to 5 different people (no joke, though I wish it were), I got someone to say they would reestablish internet service under a new number and there would be no interruption of service and all would be well. Great!
Or not. I then got a text message from AT&T telling me there was a problem porting my landline. Umm, wasn't it already ported? Wasn't I getting this text message on my new cell phone? Aren't these people silly enough for their own sitcom??? So I called the number left for me, only to be told this was the wrong number to call. But YOU sent me a message with this number inside! What am I to do other than call it? How can I divine that the number sent to me is NOT the number to call?!
WHATEVER!!
Several more people later, I got everything straightened out (I think) and the email addresses and first and last name of the woman who helped me and promises that if anything else happened, I could talk to her manager (the first time ANYONE mentioned a higher-up, by the way).
I am tired of all this, as I'm sure you are. I have spent way too much time and mental energy on AT&T at this point. I am done. One more mistake and I'm calling the better business bureau. Calgon, take me away!
So the landline to cell phone switch occurred, but we awoke this morning to continued internet service, which wasn't supposed to happen. So on the phones I went and, after talking to 5 different people (no joke, though I wish it were), I got someone to say they would reestablish internet service under a new number and there would be no interruption of service and all would be well. Great!
Or not. I then got a text message from AT&T telling me there was a problem porting my landline. Umm, wasn't it already ported? Wasn't I getting this text message on my new cell phone? Aren't these people silly enough for their own sitcom??? So I called the number left for me, only to be told this was the wrong number to call. But YOU sent me a message with this number inside! What am I to do other than call it? How can I divine that the number sent to me is NOT the number to call?!
WHATEVER!!
Several more people later, I got everything straightened out (I think) and the email addresses and first and last name of the woman who helped me and promises that if anything else happened, I could talk to her manager (the first time ANYONE mentioned a higher-up, by the way).
I am tired of all this, as I'm sure you are. I have spent way too much time and mental energy on AT&T at this point. I am done. One more mistake and I'm calling the better business bureau. Calgon, take me away!
Monday, August 18, 2008
Keep pushing me on
An update on the AT&T debacle, only because it's relevant to the blog: supposedly (and let's say that with the proper amount of sarcasm and doubt, shall we?), our landline number will become my new cell number as of the "midnight cycle." What the midnight cycle is, I have no idea, but it requires that we unhook all our home phones and turn off the cell phone to be and then turn on the cell phone in the morning and voila, service! Anyone else filled with lots of fear about this whole prospect??
What this means for me, more than anything (since I still have my trusty old cell phone in the event the switch fails) is that we will lose internet service as of tomorrow morning (or the midnight cycle, really) and who knows how long before it will be back up again. Because, of course, our only option for DSL without cable in our neck of the woods is, you guessed it, the company formerly known as Bellsouth or, drum roll please, AT&T. SIGH!!
All of this is a roundabout way of saying I may be offline, away from my desk, missing in the blogosphere for a few days until we get service reestablished, so don't disappear in the meantime, okay? In preparation, I have copied down all the numbers I will need should something go wrong (because the only way to get those number is via a phone, which will be dead, or the internet, which will also be dead) so I am prepared or as prepared as I can be when caught in this service without a smile techno-nightmare.
The only good news is that I think I may have scared someone at AT&T. Some woman called to tell me about the impending switch, NOT the woman with whom I have been working very closely, and I basically said "Who the heck are you?!" because what I did NOT want was yet another division/person/layer of bureaucracy involved since I've already talked to more people than I could possibly have imagined at the outset and now that I had my own personal caseworker, I was not going to give her up so easily. Turns out today's unsuspecting woman works the next cubicle over from my personal problem solver but I didn't give her a chance to explain that to me, insisting that my woman call me back to explain to me what was up personally instead. I guess in the interim she was uber-apologetic to the previously assigned caseworker for getting involved at all and well she should be, gosh darn it!!
What this means for me, more than anything (since I still have my trusty old cell phone in the event the switch fails) is that we will lose internet service as of tomorrow morning (or the midnight cycle, really) and who knows how long before it will be back up again. Because, of course, our only option for DSL without cable in our neck of the woods is, you guessed it, the company formerly known as Bellsouth or, drum roll please, AT&T. SIGH!!
All of this is a roundabout way of saying I may be offline, away from my desk, missing in the blogosphere for a few days until we get service reestablished, so don't disappear in the meantime, okay? In preparation, I have copied down all the numbers I will need should something go wrong (because the only way to get those number is via a phone, which will be dead, or the internet, which will also be dead) so I am prepared or as prepared as I can be when caught in this service without a smile techno-nightmare.
The only good news is that I think I may have scared someone at AT&T. Some woman called to tell me about the impending switch, NOT the woman with whom I have been working very closely, and I basically said "Who the heck are you?!" because what I did NOT want was yet another division/person/layer of bureaucracy involved since I've already talked to more people than I could possibly have imagined at the outset and now that I had my own personal caseworker, I was not going to give her up so easily. Turns out today's unsuspecting woman works the next cubicle over from my personal problem solver but I didn't give her a chance to explain that to me, insisting that my woman call me back to explain to me what was up personally instead. I guess in the interim she was uber-apologetic to the previously assigned caseworker for getting involved at all and well she should be, gosh darn it!!
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Baby love, my baby love
Ever have one of these days?
The baby wakes up at 5am, bright eyed and bushy tailed and completely uninterested in sleep. Let the day begin!
Then he has a major dirty diaper blow out, ruining his pajamas. Yay, more laundry!
Then, somehow, during the change, you end up with poop on your boob! Perfect for fall!
Then, during breakfast, he practices his new-found talent: spitting. Projectile oatmeal!
Then the day proceeds and, during subsequent diaper changes, he pees on you. Twice!
Then, when you're showering to rinse off the pee, he has an utter melt-down. Naked dash to console!
Then, during lunch, he insists on practicing his favorite activity, "drinking" water. Chunky pear and oatmeal dribble!
Then the baby decides napping is fun and all, but it's more fun to whine. And whine and whine and whine!
Then he tries to practice crawling, remembering every two seconds he hates to be on his stomach and wailing instead. Rinse and repeat, again and again and again!
Then, during dinner, he refuses to eat altogether and screams at top volume instead. Dinner music minus the strings!
Then, by the time bedtime rolls around, you're so exhausted you don't care how many once in a lifetime Olympic records are being broken in the water cube, you just want to collapse. Michael Who?
Really? You too??
The baby wakes up at 5am, bright eyed and bushy tailed and completely uninterested in sleep. Let the day begin!
Then he has a major dirty diaper blow out, ruining his pajamas. Yay, more laundry!
Then, somehow, during the change, you end up with poop on your boob! Perfect for fall!
Then, during breakfast, he practices his new-found talent: spitting. Projectile oatmeal!
Then the day proceeds and, during subsequent diaper changes, he pees on you. Twice!
Then, when you're showering to rinse off the pee, he has an utter melt-down. Naked dash to console!
Then, during lunch, he insists on practicing his favorite activity, "drinking" water. Chunky pear and oatmeal dribble!
Then the baby decides napping is fun and all, but it's more fun to whine. And whine and whine and whine!
Then he tries to practice crawling, remembering every two seconds he hates to be on his stomach and wailing instead. Rinse and repeat, again and again and again!
Then, during dinner, he refuses to eat altogether and screams at top volume instead. Dinner music minus the strings!
Then, by the time bedtime rolls around, you're so exhausted you don't care how many once in a lifetime Olympic records are being broken in the water cube, you just want to collapse. Michael Who?
Really? You too??
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Meet at his location
One of my recent frustrations has come while I've been surfing the web via the women's blogging network. Time and time again, links direct me to people who have furnished a "nursery on a budget" and I go visit, because I'm always curious about a good bargain, and baby bargains are my current obsession. And time and time again, I'm disappointed by these people's idea of "budget." (They keep using that word but I don't think they know what it means!) When I think budget, I'm not thinking about furnishing a room for $1000 or more. Are you? In fact, I've got first hand experience with furnishing a nursery on a REAL budget. And no, it doesn't have a designer look, but I think that is more a function of my lack of decorating abilities than the cost of my raw materials.
We start with the rocker. This was, in fact, our big splurge (which we felt we could do because the husband's parents offered to help us out). We went with a Dutallier, the Lexxus of rockers, but we got ours on closeout from Burlington Coat Factory (of course!) for $220. However, before we went with a new rocker, we were given a used model by our good friends (thanks BF!). Several cushions covered in bright red pillow cases and some WD40 later, it was good as new and would have stayed in our nursery for good had not the generosity of the in-laws appeared. As it is, we still use it for rocking in our bedroom.
Next the crib. Ours is, once again, a high end model, very Pottery Barn-esque with solid wood sides and molding, but we got ours for $100 including the mattress on Craigslist from a children's boutique that was remodeling. No one had ever slept in this crib as it had just been part of a display. Some touch-up paint to cover the wear from customers was all that was required and now it's perfect. But, once again, we could have gone much cheaper. In fact, my sister bought some crib bedding from a woman on Craigslist who later called her back and asked if she wanted the crib for free since the woman wanted the crib to go to a good home and my sister and brother-in-law seemed like such nice people. My sister-in-law got her high end model for free as well from a woman at church who was moving on from children. My parents also got the grandkid crib they have at their house for free as well. Now free is REALLY budgeting.
Our dresser is a plain white, four drawer $70 Ikea dresser, not expressly meant for children or babies, but my mother glued pre-painted jungle animals (which I bought for $0.40 each at the craft store years ago for a Sunday school lesson) on the front to give it a custom look and complement our theme. Oh yes, our nursery has a theme, courtesy of our Ikea curtains ($19.99 for two panels), which have jungle animals on the borders. The curtains also gave us our color scheme: bright primary colors with white furniture.
The nursery also contains a three shelf bookshelf (free from an old roommate), a 4 tier wooden shelving unit originally intended for a bathroom ($49 from Ikea), a children's play table and chairs, and, my favorite part, a rug in abstract shapes and primary colors that's looks a little like stained glass (also from Ikea).
And done!
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We start with the rocker. This was, in fact, our big splurge (which we felt we could do because the husband's parents offered to help us out). We went with a Dutallier, the Lexxus of rockers, but we got ours on closeout from Burlington Coat Factory (of course!) for $220. However, before we went with a new rocker, we were given a used model by our good friends (thanks BF!). Several cushions covered in bright red pillow cases and some WD40 later, it was good as new and would have stayed in our nursery for good had not the generosity of the in-laws appeared. As it is, we still use it for rocking in our bedroom.
Next the crib. Ours is, once again, a high end model, very Pottery Barn-esque with solid wood sides and molding, but we got ours for $100 including the mattress on Craigslist from a children's boutique that was remodeling. No one had ever slept in this crib as it had just been part of a display. Some touch-up paint to cover the wear from customers was all that was required and now it's perfect. But, once again, we could have gone much cheaper. In fact, my sister bought some crib bedding from a woman on Craigslist who later called her back and asked if she wanted the crib for free since the woman wanted the crib to go to a good home and my sister and brother-in-law seemed like such nice people. My sister-in-law got her high end model for free as well from a woman at church who was moving on from children. My parents also got the grandkid crib they have at their house for free as well. Now free is REALLY budgeting.
Our dresser is a plain white, four drawer $70 Ikea dresser, not expressly meant for children or babies, but my mother glued pre-painted jungle animals (which I bought for $0.40 each at the craft store years ago for a Sunday school lesson) on the front to give it a custom look and complement our theme. Oh yes, our nursery has a theme, courtesy of our Ikea curtains ($19.99 for two panels), which have jungle animals on the borders. The curtains also gave us our color scheme: bright primary colors with white furniture.
The nursery also contains a three shelf bookshelf (free from an old roommate), a 4 tier wooden shelving unit originally intended for a bathroom ($49 from Ikea), a children's play table and chairs, and, my favorite part, a rug in abstract shapes and primary colors that's looks a little like stained glass (also from Ikea).
And done!
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Monday, August 04, 2008
My baby's love had gone
So my last post was my 247th, a momentous and significant number for me and for all my fellow Pomona alums. Huzzah!
Anywho, the saga of the ineptitude that is AT&T continues. When we last left them, our fearful family of heroes had finally gotten a refund for the ill-fated iPhone (except for $.01 which they couldn't figure out how to refund, so I have a charge for one cent on my credit card now....) and had picked up the wanted iPhone. However, that phone didn't work as, umm, a phone for three whole days, during which the husband was on the phone with tech and customer support for several hours at a time, several times. Eventually, he had to return to the AT&T store in person and get it straightened out, which took another hour. But hey, at least he could make calls now!! Quite a coup on a PHONE, don't you think?
In the meantime, we were told the "porting" of our home number to my new cell phone would take 7-10 days. Only, we wouldn't know exactly when that switch would take place, except that suddenly our home phone wouldn't be working and my new cell phone would start ringing, presumably. Sounds, umm, totally shady, but whatever. So we were waiting patiently for this mysterious switch to happen (our friends and family will note that we haven't told anyone about this switch or told them my cell number has been cancelled. That's because I haven't cancelled my other cell service yet on a hunch that things with AT&T MIGHT not work out as expected, and I wanted to have at least one working phone/number in our house. Looks like that was a safe bet!).
Then today we got a call from AT&T telling us that our home phone service provider was saying that our home number was no longer active. Umm, okay, except that we can still makes calls on it. Well, they said, your service provider says it's not working so you need to call them. Umm, okay, except they are YOU! You see, we originally had phone service with Bell South, which was recently bought by, yes, that's right, AT&T. However, it appears that these two parts of the same company are incapable of talking to each other, as we have discovered by calling back and forth between them four times now, with each call telling us it's the other side's fault when I just know these people work down the hall from each other and could call across the cubicles and work this out since, to review, it's all one company, for crying out loud!
So that's what I've been doing, crying out loud. And still, no one knows what is going on and the switch hasn't happened. And the AT&T people are giving me progressively sorrier and sorrier answers, but no one knows enough to get anything done, and everyone wants to blame the other side. Of themselves. It's absurdist humor at its...worst?
Anywho, the saga of the ineptitude that is AT&T continues. When we last left them, our fearful family of heroes had finally gotten a refund for the ill-fated iPhone (except for $.01 which they couldn't figure out how to refund, so I have a charge for one cent on my credit card now....) and had picked up the wanted iPhone. However, that phone didn't work as, umm, a phone for three whole days, during which the husband was on the phone with tech and customer support for several hours at a time, several times. Eventually, he had to return to the AT&T store in person and get it straightened out, which took another hour. But hey, at least he could make calls now!! Quite a coup on a PHONE, don't you think?
In the meantime, we were told the "porting" of our home number to my new cell phone would take 7-10 days. Only, we wouldn't know exactly when that switch would take place, except that suddenly our home phone wouldn't be working and my new cell phone would start ringing, presumably. Sounds, umm, totally shady, but whatever. So we were waiting patiently for this mysterious switch to happen (our friends and family will note that we haven't told anyone about this switch or told them my cell number has been cancelled. That's because I haven't cancelled my other cell service yet on a hunch that things with AT&T MIGHT not work out as expected, and I wanted to have at least one working phone/number in our house. Looks like that was a safe bet!).
Then today we got a call from AT&T telling us that our home phone service provider was saying that our home number was no longer active. Umm, okay, except that we can still makes calls on it. Well, they said, your service provider says it's not working so you need to call them. Umm, okay, except they are YOU! You see, we originally had phone service with Bell South, which was recently bought by, yes, that's right, AT&T. However, it appears that these two parts of the same company are incapable of talking to each other, as we have discovered by calling back and forth between them four times now, with each call telling us it's the other side's fault when I just know these people work down the hall from each other and could call across the cubicles and work this out since, to review, it's all one company, for crying out loud!
So that's what I've been doing, crying out loud. And still, no one knows what is going on and the switch hasn't happened. And the AT&T people are giving me progressively sorrier and sorrier answers, but no one knows enough to get anything done, and everyone wants to blame the other side. Of themselves. It's absurdist humor at its...worst?
Monday, July 28, 2008
Destroy this mock shrine
Once upon a time, I worked in a phone survey place. After two days, I was "promoted" to editor since it was clear I had skills in this area...and I was a cute girl who smiled a lot at the boss. Make that a cute, SMART girl! Because doing the surveys was a total drag, man. A few days after that, I was made supervisor and put in charge of interviewing, phones, collating data, and, still, editing. Yeah, they had a turnover problem. Anywho, one day a guy came in, we interviewed him, hired him, and told him to report a few days later. That day arrived, and he was a no-show. A few days later, he called to say his sister had died and he had attended the funeral so of course he'd been unable to report as planned. We were very sorry and told him to come in in a few days.
And that might have been the end of the story. However, I had recognized this guy as the son of a man who had worked with my father when I was growing up, a man with whom our family was close, so of course I was upset to hear about his sister's death. Ours was a very, VERY close-knit community, and I knew my father would want to know, so I called and told him the news. He was shocked and immediately started calling around to our old network to see if we could get some more details and if we could help. However, it turned out it was hard to get in touch with the family, and no one he spoke to seemed to have heard of the tragic event. Finally, it turned out that both this guy's sisters were alive and well. Indeed, his father was very upset to hear that the son had been, umm, claiming otherwise, to put it delicately.
The guy never showed back up to work. Draw your own conclusions.
I am reminded of this story whenever I teach. Every single semester and every summer term, I can't count the number of grandparents, aunts, uncles, or best friends' best friends who "die." Students show up with these tragic tales, and you can't claim they're lying because, well, what if they aren't?? So you have to accept what they tell you and move on. But seriously, if this many people are dying, no one should ever send their children to college. It's FATAL! The only bright side is summer session. When these students disappear during summer sessions and then reappear, they have always missed too much to make it up, and so you have to break the news to them that, in addition to the tragedy, they have now flunked your class. Funny thing is, no matter how often I do this, and I do it often, the students never seem all that broken up about the F or the death. Go figure!
And that might have been the end of the story. However, I had recognized this guy as the son of a man who had worked with my father when I was growing up, a man with whom our family was close, so of course I was upset to hear about his sister's death. Ours was a very, VERY close-knit community, and I knew my father would want to know, so I called and told him the news. He was shocked and immediately started calling around to our old network to see if we could get some more details and if we could help. However, it turned out it was hard to get in touch with the family, and no one he spoke to seemed to have heard of the tragic event. Finally, it turned out that both this guy's sisters were alive and well. Indeed, his father was very upset to hear that the son had been, umm, claiming otherwise, to put it delicately.
The guy never showed back up to work. Draw your own conclusions.
I am reminded of this story whenever I teach. Every single semester and every summer term, I can't count the number of grandparents, aunts, uncles, or best friends' best friends who "die." Students show up with these tragic tales, and you can't claim they're lying because, well, what if they aren't?? So you have to accept what they tell you and move on. But seriously, if this many people are dying, no one should ever send their children to college. It's FATAL! The only bright side is summer session. When these students disappear during summer sessions and then reappear, they have always missed too much to make it up, and so you have to break the news to them that, in addition to the tragedy, they have now flunked your class. Funny thing is, no matter how often I do this, and I do it often, the students never seem all that broken up about the F or the death. Go figure!
Monday, July 21, 2008
On the line, baby
As I've mentioned before, the husband loves all things Apple. Recently, this love has manifested itself as a desire for one of the new iPhones. Exercising immense self-control, he did not get an iPhone when they first came out, deciding, wisely, that the next iteration would certainly be better in many ways and would have many of the inevitable kinks worked out. So, by the time this latest iPhone rolled out, he was ready to get one. In the process, he launched a campaign to convince me that I, too, needed an iPhone and we could get a family plan and it would only cost a little more than our current phone services and they have Microsoft word and you can run the web and all kinds of cool apps and you can access my calendar and add things to my calendar and always know where I am and they're just so darn COOL you really really really really need one so let's just got get them, okay? OKAY!
After a while of this, I finally gave in, but, since you have to purchase your iPhone in person, we didn't go on the original launch date with all the waiting in line hoopla because it was a workday, and we have a small baby who doesn't really enjoy the standing in line. Instead, we went the next day and ordered our iPhones to be delivered back to the AT&T store in 7-10 working days. And the husband's rejoicing began, while my trepidation mounted. I was pretty sure my iPhone would either be A, a silly toy for the likes of me, or B, quickly destroyed by the likes of our wee babe.
Time passed. 5 working days, to be exact. And during that time I had some serious second thoughts of a financial nature and decided that, in fact, it made the most sense for me to cancel my order and just get a nice little basic phone I could throw in my bag and/or allow J to chew on with impunity. So I called up AT&T and told them as much, and they said I would have to come in to do all this in person and as long as I got there before it shipped, there was no problem. But, I asked, what if it ships in the meantime? It won't, said the AT&T receptionist blithely. But what if it does? It won't, said the receptionist with annoyance. But WHAT IF IT DOES, I asked a third time, with emphasis. It won't, she said curtly. At which point I reached through the phone and throttled her. Or I hung up. Loudly. And we made plans to go in the next day they were open.
Guess what? Wait for it...it shipped. The same day I called, in fact. Wait, wait, I know, so unexpected, right?? Though, sadly and mysteriously, the husband's iPhone did not arrive, meaning we had to go in to cancel my order and then come back yet a third time to set up our account when his arrived. No matter, we are becoming one with the AT&T store at this point, and they are SUCH lovely people, especially the reception staff!
We went in today to cancel. (On the way, I slipped in the rain on our front step and twisted my ankle. OF COURSE I did!) And Patrick, the handy employee, said we can certainly do all this, cancel your phone, waive the "restocking fee" (you're darn tootin'!), set up service with a no frills phone on a family plan with the husband's iPhone, and here are the costs of all that in writing and plainly explained. Things were looking up! I was heady with glee that this might be a painless process! Huzzah!
And then we hit a snag. You see, no one has ever returned an iPhone at this store, out of the over 200 they have sold, so no one knew how. No one, meaning Patrick, the team of sales people, the managers, the tech support people they called frantically multiple times, the regional helpers, no one. Over an hour later, all we had determined was that my purchase was somehow scanning in such a way to indicate that I paid $400 for my iPhone (I did not) and needed to be charged a $200 restocking fee (HALF the purchase price?? Is Steve-O on crack??), but all that really didn't matter since there was in fact no way to return the blasted thing even at twice the price. Now, I'm no conspiracy theorist, but the fact that even after all the initial hullabaloo with AT&T and Apple sort of botching this launch (speed was glacial, app store crashed, lines long, limited stock, etc.), there now seems to be no way known to return an iPhone is VERY suspicious.
Long story long, we still haven't gotten a credit, the store has the iPhone in their hands, and multiple sources are being consulted about this unfathomable problem even as we speak. And the husband mourns his sad little much wanted iPhone that is somewhere out there in the ether. Thank heavens we don't have to try to return that one!
After a while of this, I finally gave in, but, since you have to purchase your iPhone in person, we didn't go on the original launch date with all the waiting in line hoopla because it was a workday, and we have a small baby who doesn't really enjoy the standing in line. Instead, we went the next day and ordered our iPhones to be delivered back to the AT&T store in 7-10 working days. And the husband's rejoicing began, while my trepidation mounted. I was pretty sure my iPhone would either be A, a silly toy for the likes of me, or B, quickly destroyed by the likes of our wee babe.
Time passed. 5 working days, to be exact. And during that time I had some serious second thoughts of a financial nature and decided that, in fact, it made the most sense for me to cancel my order and just get a nice little basic phone I could throw in my bag and/or allow J to chew on with impunity. So I called up AT&T and told them as much, and they said I would have to come in to do all this in person and as long as I got there before it shipped, there was no problem. But, I asked, what if it ships in the meantime? It won't, said the AT&T receptionist blithely. But what if it does? It won't, said the receptionist with annoyance. But WHAT IF IT DOES, I asked a third time, with emphasis. It won't, she said curtly. At which point I reached through the phone and throttled her. Or I hung up. Loudly. And we made plans to go in the next day they were open.
Guess what? Wait for it...it shipped. The same day I called, in fact. Wait, wait, I know, so unexpected, right?? Though, sadly and mysteriously, the husband's iPhone did not arrive, meaning we had to go in to cancel my order and then come back yet a third time to set up our account when his arrived. No matter, we are becoming one with the AT&T store at this point, and they are SUCH lovely people, especially the reception staff!
We went in today to cancel. (On the way, I slipped in the rain on our front step and twisted my ankle. OF COURSE I did!) And Patrick, the handy employee, said we can certainly do all this, cancel your phone, waive the "restocking fee" (you're darn tootin'!), set up service with a no frills phone on a family plan with the husband's iPhone, and here are the costs of all that in writing and plainly explained. Things were looking up! I was heady with glee that this might be a painless process! Huzzah!
And then we hit a snag. You see, no one has ever returned an iPhone at this store, out of the over 200 they have sold, so no one knew how. No one, meaning Patrick, the team of sales people, the managers, the tech support people they called frantically multiple times, the regional helpers, no one. Over an hour later, all we had determined was that my purchase was somehow scanning in such a way to indicate that I paid $400 for my iPhone (I did not) and needed to be charged a $200 restocking fee (HALF the purchase price?? Is Steve-O on crack??), but all that really didn't matter since there was in fact no way to return the blasted thing even at twice the price. Now, I'm no conspiracy theorist, but the fact that even after all the initial hullabaloo with AT&T and Apple sort of botching this launch (speed was glacial, app store crashed, lines long, limited stock, etc.), there now seems to be no way known to return an iPhone is VERY suspicious.
Long story long, we still haven't gotten a credit, the store has the iPhone in their hands, and multiple sources are being consulted about this unfathomable problem even as we speak. And the husband mourns his sad little much wanted iPhone that is somewhere out there in the ether. Thank heavens we don't have to try to return that one!
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