cranky pixels

My friend cleaned out her closets the other day and gave me all her fat clothes. As she is someone of impeccable style, this was somewhat like Christmas…albeit a depressing and demoralizing Christmas. So, just like Christmas!

Suddenly my closet contains more than just some skirts and a single, sad business suit that never really fit properly to begin with. I have pants! Pants, I tell you! And shirts! Shirts I can button over my massive chest-area!

Obviously I find this somewhat exciting.

As a result of this sudden clothes-having, I’ve been motivated to actually get dressed most mornings, and that means I am continually having to answer the question “What shoes will I wear with this?” Eagle-eyed readers will remember the sad, sad day last year when I realized none of my pre-pregnancy shoes would fit on my suddenly huge and plank-like feet*, which meant that several years’ worth of careful shoe-collecting and meticulous sale-scouring were all dumped unceremoniously in a large box in the storage closet. Since then I’ve managed to acquire a pair of sneakers (white) and a pair of warm boots, but aside from that? Not a whole lot.

After yesterday’s internet debacle, I decided to spend some quality time at Shoe Pavilion. I’ve been wanting some cute, sporty little Mary Jane-inspired flats, and they had them in spades…just not in my size. This is nothing new. Apparently those of us whose feet are size 9 and larger do not require such things as “shoes.”

However, I found myself being drawn to a section I rarely visit: the Dansko section. Dansko, in case you don’t know, makes a series of clunky, clog-like shoes that are rumored to be terribly comfortable, much like Birkenstocks, but like Birkenstocks, I have always given them a wide berth. I was a Goth, after all. Goths do not wear comfortable shoes. Granted, my current choice in footwear is an ancient pair of Ugg knock-offs, but still.

The pair I kept coming back to was the least clog-like of the bunch; a cute, clunky Mary Jane. I’d walk by, check them out, walk away again. It was very single-girl-in-a-bar. “What’s a cute pair of Mary Janes doing in a place like this? Oh – you’re Dansko. Oh. Uh – go to any health-food stores lately? Ha, ha. I’m totally kidding. But, uh – did you?” I tried on some other shoes, but they were all just eh. I mean, if I had enough free cash to buy a new pair of shoes every couple of months, there were definitely some contenders…but since my footwear purchases are few and far between, I want to make the most of them. And the Danskos, they beckoned. Also, they were on sale for $45.

Long story short, I am now the owner of a pair of suspiciously clog-like Dansko Mary Janes. True to rumor, they are insanely comfortable, and with some stripey tights and a black dress might even pass as Gothy. Although given my current lifestyle, the health food store scenario? Somewhat more likely.

* It is only fair to note that my feet are actually a size 9 1/2, which was another unwelcome revelation but one I feel obligated to point out, lest anyone feel I should be building character by cramming my feet into my old shoes. A half size: maybe. A whole size? That’s way more character than I need.

technorati tags:dankso, wardrobe, zaftig

I’m posting this from my BlackBerry Pearl, which I have to say is pretty seriously cool. Not as cool: the fact that the internet is down at the office *again*. WTF, ISP?

You’d think that after a beastly pregnancy, a crushing case of PPD and a schedule so full I always burst out laughing when I try to describe it, I’d have given up on the idea of gestating again. I mean, we won the Baby Lottery with Happy Fun Baby – I found out I was pregnant right about the time we got the results of Not So’s sperm tests, which said, basically, that there was a chance in hell that we could conceive without medical intervention, but only just. And let’s take a moment and think about my schedule, which currently involves two businesses, school, full-time mothering and a vast and endless supply of dirty dishes, all of which I am staying on top of by sheer force of I don’t know what. Not So and I sat down the other day and discussed the pros and cons of having another kid, and what it came down to is that we wouldn’t be able to maintain the same quality of life if we were to add to our family. Right now, we have the best of both worlds: an amazing kid who we adore, and career opportunities we used to only dream of. It’s a delicate balance, and another baby would send it toppling.

Does that stop me from wanting one so badly I could cry? It does not.

I always wanted a big family, and though the definition of big has changed since I was younger (I no longer want enough children to start my own circus troupe, although if Happy Fun Baby decides to be a contortionist I am so all over that) my idea of family still involves children, plural. More than one, fewer than three. Kids. Of course, I also thought I’d be a schoolteacher and have really great hair, so we’ve obviously got a bit of a reality disconnect here. Still. I find myself oddly reticent to get rid of Happy Fun Baby’s more memorable bits of baby gear, and every time I see a newborn I feel my ovaries twanging in a decidedly un-pc way.

Having an only child has its benefits, though. Besides the obvious perk of not having to go through the whole pregnancy thing again, our little family is uniquely suited to the type of lifestyle we lead. We love our little two-bedroom condo; a bigger family would need a bigger house, and more stuff to put in it. We don’t own a car and don’t want to. How would I wrangle a baby and a toddler on public transportation? People do it, but it looks very hard and I do not like things that are hard. We like the fact that we can strap the baby into the Ergo and go out into the world with only minimal additional baby-related gear. I’m terrible about keeping a schedule, and Happy Fun Baby is accommodating enough to let me wing it most days. I can’t imagine how I’d get a day’s work in with an infant and a toddler. And I like being able to be completely there for my kid. I don’t necessarily want to divide my attention, even if Happy Fun Baby would be getting a different sort of family experience from his theoretical sibling.

Only children have gotten a bad rap; most people think of them as spoiled, difficult, selfish. I’ve known only children who fit that mold, but I’ve known people with siblings who fit it, too. One of the moms on a bulletin board hit it on the head when she said “No kid of mine will be spoiled–just because we CAN give her something doesn’t mean we always will.” Happy Fun Baby won’t be an only child so that we can lavish him with stuff. He’ll be an only child because we made a choice about our quality of life. He’ll have parents who love him, and aunts and uncles who love him, and cousins, and friends. He doesn’t need a sibling to be a whole person.

Now, if I can just sell that pitch to my ovaries…

technorati tags:only child, quality of life, siblings

Happy Fun Baby and I had an exciting outdoor adventure yesterday, courtesy Google Transit. Not So swears by Google Transit. I prefer to use TriMet’s website, since they’re, you know, not in beta. I know! I am such a beta whore, why no love for the Google? And the answer is simple: I love the betas, but only when failure to work correctly does not inconvenience me in the slightest. See, and you thought I was a hypocrite.

Anyhoo, Google Transit said I’d only need to get on the #44 to get out to my meeting (it was a meeting I was going to, did I mention? A meeting with some other graphic designers from PMI, which I recently joined, because I am a joiner. Also because PMI? Freaking cool). As we got closer to my stop, I began to feel somewhat uncomfortable about the directions, which involved detailed information like “Walk to final destination.” Um. Not even a navigational clue? I had a fuzzy memory of the map on my computer screen, which showed a tiny, curving arrow pointing me in the direction of my destination but which I had not printed out, because I = genius. I did remember that Google Transit had said that I’d have about a 15 minute walk, which should be a bit less than a mile. Long, but doable.

But never fear, BlackBerry Pearl is here! I showed my smartphone some love and pulled up Google Maps, which instantly told me to turn left and head down toward the main road. Love the lovely Google Maps. Then  it said to turn right and walk…almost a mile? Um. But what else was I going to do? I hoofed it down the side of the road, which for informational purposes I will mention did not have a sidewalk, chattering to the baby about the trees and the cars. As I got  close to the next turn, I clicked the “More” button on my phone. Turn right, it said. And walk another 3/4 mile.

Two things I’d like to point out: first, almost two miles is a lot more than almost one mile. About a mile more. An extra mile is a lot, especially when you’ve got a 25lb baby strapped to your chest. And secondly, this new road? A tiny, busy two-laner with no sidewalk – not even a bike lane – and a steep drop-off right next to the shoulder of the road.

But I walked it. Oh yes. Cars gave me a wide berth, and the baby delighted in all the trees, and I sang a little ditty under my breath that went much like “FUCK fuck fuck fuck fuck” as my heart pounded and I tried not to get us run over.

As soon as we made it to the end of the road I could see my destination, all beacon-like and shiny. I could also see something else: a bus stop. For the #1 bus. Which we connected with at several points on the #44. I COULD HAVE TAKEN A BUS THAT WOULD DROP ME OFF RIGHT OUTSIDE? GOOGLE TRANSIT, WHY DO YOU HATE ME?

When I got home, I saw that the original Google Transit page was still up in my browser, so I zoomed in on the map to see exactly how they thought I was going to get from my bus stop to my destination in less than a mile. Behold:

It’s so simple! I just need to go straight through several buildings and an expanse of forest! WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THAT?

technorati tags:google transit

Technical difficulties abound at Chez Cranky and its satellites. I trekked out to the office yesterday, despite the obvious foolishness of attempting anything that involves being awake and functional the day after the time change, only to discover that our internet is down again. The point of being at the office? To get work done. Instead, I had some lunch, nursed an increasingly cranky baby (see time change, above) and fought a headache while searching fruitlessly for images on our hard drive. Lightroom was behaving abominably, refusing to serve up about a quarter of my images and freezing at inopportune moments. I’d troubleshoot, but: internet. Sigh.

Finally I gave up and headed out, but not without having the brilliant idea of trying the Ergo in the hip-carry position for the first time. See, to do that, one has to reconfigure the straps and remove the chest latch, which seems so easy in the comfort of, say, my own office. Reversing the process once it became abundantly clear that the hip-carry is the most uncomfortable thing ever and my shoulder was burning like it was on fire? Not so simple, especially with a wriggly, cranky toddler. I got him out, finally (after a dodgy moment in which I couldn’t undo one of the straps) but Happy Fun Baby darted for freedom every time I tried to use both hands to re-attach the chest latch to the straps. I ended up just scooping him and the carrier up and clutching them both to my chest while running for the bus.

Luckily I’m all set up to work at home, which is what I had planned for today. Ha! Did you hear that? I had a plan! And I’d have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn’t for you damn kids.

I was up late last night doing my patented combo of work/geek/online window shopping and finally got to bed about 1am. I mention this to illustrate the level of not-awake I was at 7 when Not So got up for work. I always sit up and say goodbye to him and what have you, but the minute he steps out the door I’m out like a light.

This morning Not So decided to change things up a bit. After some banter about socks, he casually mentioned that the monitor downstairs had died. The brand new monitor we got from Amazon two weeks ago.

Me: What? What? The monitor?
Him: Yeah. It just powered down in the middle of working. I tried everything I could, but it’s dead.
Me: But…what? [Note: not awake.]
Him: So, I don’t know what sort of warranty stuff we have on that…
Me: What? What? Okay. Um.
Him: It was obviously defective. We’ve only had for a couple of weeks. I’m sure whatever warranty we have will cover that.
Me: Okay. Okay. I’ll…but I have school! And there’s no internet at the office! And -
Him: I can leave you my new MacBook.
Me: No, none of my stuff’s on it. I need my stuff.
Him: I can probably get us a new monitor.

So we’re getting a new monitor, and Amazon has a lovely return policy, so all is well. Except for the fact that I was up at 7am, blearily tracking down return and warranty info while yesterday’s headache crept slowly from where it was hiding at the base of my spine to the place just behind my eyes. Nothing like having to deal with technical difficulties first thing in the morning to get the blood pumping, am I right?

So today, instead of working from home in my pjs, I am battling a nasty headache and engaging in an endless argument with my iBook about whether there is a such thing as the internet. Fun! Let’s all sing the praises of the Samsung SyncMaster 740N and its amazing disappearing picture. It’s a good thing I have Advil.

technorati tags:samsung syncmaster 740n, working from home, wahm, technical difficulties

The last couple of days have been scramble-tastic,* what with the logo-making and the client-troubleshooting and the endless, persistent teething with its related inconsolable screaming. One of these things is not like the other! One of these things does not belong! Part of me misses having an actual job**.

HowEVER, I am rocking the pajama-bottom and tee-shirt ensemble, and isn’t that what working at home is all about? I feel that this is what has been missing from my WAHM experience, and I may have to purchase several pairs of cute pajama bottoms simply so I can wear them while I work. Slouching around in sweats is so not the same thing.

Speaking of work (which we were, ad nauseaum) my OCD kicked into high gear this morning and I got up when Not So did, bringing my developmentally-impaired laptop upstairs with me so I could get things done while the baby slept. Which he did, adorably. My child is amazingly adorable. He is even adorable when he snores. The snoring thing = totally his daddy, too, since I am all girl and therefore incapable of something so coarse as snoring. (You bought that, right?)

My laptop pisses me off when I’m trying to get things done, seeing as it keeps denying the existence of a wireless signal in the middle of a page load, only to admit, grudgingly, that the signal is there once I turn Airport off and then on again. Rinse, repeat. STOP FUCKING WITH ME, STUPID LAPTOP! I KNOW THE SIGNAL IS THERE! I probably need a new Airport card, but now that the laptop has been relegated to Backup status it isn’t nearly so important. I mean, what, it’s too big of a deal for me to go downstairs and work on the Mac Mini? Especially, you know, if I’m rockin’ the pjs.

Given all that it isn’t surprising that I failed to get much done during my frenetic morning geek session. I still need to make some tweaks to one client’s site and send out some site estimates and finally, finally make another blog post and send out the March couldbe studios newsletter. First, though? I have to get this housework thing under control because OMG TOO MESSY CANNOT DEAL.

* Yes, I am aware I append far too many words with “-tastic” and I am seeking help.

** No, I am not suggesting that being a mother is not, in fact, a job. I am referring instead to the nine-to-five drudgery that I always complained about but had, at least, an end.

1. Blog Post button has inexplicably disappeared from Flock topbar. WTF? Was there yesterday. Have not changed anything in the interim. Yet: gone. Bah.
2. Cranky Pals newsletter did not go out yesterday as scheduled. Why? Re-checked schedule, cannot figure it out. BAH.
3. May have unwittingly missed window of opportunity for the March Crafty Mamas Bazaar, in which case non-delivery of newsletter = good thing, except, bah.
4. House is disastrous, to the point that I am unable even to find a starting point in the cleaning process. Too! Much! Mess!
5. I have no clean underpants. (See above.) This leads to the burning question: where are all my underpants? Because, see, I should have more than the three pairs I can find, and thusly should be able to go more than three days without going into a laundry-related panic. But they’re gone. Gone. My house eats underpants, apparently.
6. The child is not entertained by either of the two children’s movies we Netflixed, which means he is entertaining himself by methodically disassembling DVD cases. Not just opening them; actually taking them apart. Did you know that DVD cases could be taken apart? Yeah, me neither.
7. I’m all jangled from my cereal and coffee, and I do not know why since it’s Kashi fer crying out loud, not Cocoa Puffs, and I suspect it is PMS-related, which means this is ANOTHER WHOLE MONTH I HAVEN’T HAD SEX, since at this time last month I was thinking the same thing (Impending menstruation! Have not had sex!). Again: BAH.
8. Oh and just in case you were wondering: no, he is not sleeping through the night, and no, he does not nap at times convenient to conjugal relations. If Not So could scurry home for an hour at 3pm we’d be good to go, but otherwise: not so much.
9. Related: I think it has been roughly two months since I have slept for more than two hours at a stretch. Entertainingly, now that I am Chronically Sleep Deprived (again) I actually keep myself awake during the precious few hours the baby’s crashed out, anxiously going over any and everything that might possibly go wrong anytime ever.
10. I am tired and lazy, and also v. fat.
11. And don’t even get me started on my hair.
12. And the glasses? The baby has spent the last several months yanking them forcibly off my face, so the frames are somewhat less than comfortable. Currently the only thing holding them up is the bridge of my nose. Can I afford new glasses? I cannot. Curse you, extreme myopia! Curse your need for $350 high-index lenses that are never ever ever on sale! CURSE YOU!
13. Despite Not So’s assurances to the contrary, my iPod does not want to play with the iTunes on the new Mac Mini. It will sync the purchased music, but not anything I burned. WTF? Doesn’t it seem like it should be the opposite?
14. This list is way, way too long for it only to be noon.