can’t stop this crazy thing!

maura @ 8:55 pm

It’s December 1, why am I still blogging? Well it’s Twitter Tuesday, for one. Also I’ve begun to suspect that my hair has stopped growing, and I needed someplace to say that. It’s just weird — my hair never seems to get any longer recently. I don’t cut it as often as I probably should, but once I do it seems to grow to its former length and then stop. Bizarre.

Last Week’s Tweets:

working on my CUNY IT conference presentation, hoping that my open office slideshow looks okay in powerpoint.
2:15 PM Nov 30th from web

@alevtina All those English comp classes w/the Ps — bet our stats are similar. Tho I did send some students to our Hs last week.
2:12 PM Nov 30th from web in reply to alevtina

Listening to Gus & his cousins play pirates in the other room. “Are there any girls on this pirate ship?”
8:34 AM Nov 29th from Echofon

@lwaltzer Wasn’t it great? Jonathan & I want to see it again. The digging scenes were so much fun.
8:31 AM Nov 29th from Echofon in reply to lwaltzer

“I’m not as lovely as I could be.” “None of us ever is.”
9:52 AM Nov 28th from Echofon

not that anyone needs them, but apparently I’ve got some google wave invites — ping me if’n youse want ‘em.
3:56 PM Nov 27th from web

What’s more fun than an enormous model dung beetle? Searching for the eggs in the dung, of course. http://twitpic.com/r6rt6
1:13 PM Nov 27th from Echofon

Mmmm, cornbread & sage sausage muffins are good for breakfast, too.
9:43 AM Nov 27th from Echofon

there’s no smiling in kung fu. this is an embarassment!
9:59 PM Nov 26th from Echofon

Yum. http://twitpic.com/r38d3
7:01 PM Nov 26th from Echofon

@boonebgorges transferring files to my mom’s new laptop here. nothing says holiday like family tech support!
1:09 PM Nov 26th from Echofon in reply to boonebgorges

RT @notjonathan Roasted sw potatoes & cauliflower, kale w/bacon & onions, cornbread & sausage dressing. Someone else make the damn turkey.
7:53 AM Nov 26th from Echofon

@listentomyvoice they can stuff it! I’ll take education over $$$ any day, man. 8:47 PM Nov 24th from Echofon in reply to listentomyvoice

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i stole your time, made it mine

maura @ 5:33 pm

Last weekend Gus couldn’t stop talking about My Sims, which he’d watched his friend play on the schoolbus. So Jonathan broke out our 9-yr-old copy of The Sims and installed it on his computer. Gus was extremely obsessed for about 72 hours, though it’s since faded. The interface is actually kind of difficult to manipulate, and I’d forgotten how clunky it is to move furniture around, build new rooms, etc. Ultimately I think the intensive mousing required got Gus down.

Short as it was, the obsession was intense, and brought me right back to my own obsession when we first got the game years ago. It’s true that Gus was much more amused by certain aspects of the Sims than I; of course it cracks him up that the sims forget to relieve themselves and have accidents. And he didn’t care as much about decorating as I did. He was always annoyed when his prissy sims complained about the blue formica table that Gus bought for them. (The simplistic consumerism of the game is kind of hilarious — they are happy when you buy them nice stuff! How realistic!)

But I was surprised by some of his inventive strategies. He bought his sims a computer before getting a TV, explaining: “they can use the computer to play games and look for jobs.” Ultimately, he had to buy them a TV because his woman sim didn’t want to play video games and needed something fun to do (blurgh, Will Wright, I lost a little respect for you on that one).

Somewhat alarming was the realization that in many ways Gus and I played the game very much the same. Just like in real life, Gus hoarded his money and bought his sims something expensive only when it really seemed necessary (e.g., when he realized that the fancy computer breaks less often than the basic model). And he spent lots of time really scripting every move for his sims. The sims will take care of some, but not all, of their “needs” automatically, and if you really want to do well in the game you need to control most of their actions. Gus realized this pretty quickly, as did I, and we both got kind of obsessive in trying to make them do the “right” things. So it was kind of weird watching him play.

This week we were both back to our regularly scheduled games: Gus and friends can’t get enough of Super Smash Bros Brawl on the Wii, and I’m still rocking Harbor Master on the iPhone.

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whoops, nearly forgot a title there

maura @ 9:23 pm

So yesterday would have been our last day of soccer, except that we ditched it a couple of weeks ago. Gus was just not into it, and we were tired of dragging a complaining kid all the way down to the bottom of the park so he could be the first one to volunteer not to go in (and roll around on the astroturf). The games were much sportier this season–we moved up an age bracket–and, while I think he does like running around and kicking the ball, he’s definitely not a star player, and doesn’t really get the whole dribbling-passing-shooting thing.

Me? I’m torn on it. Despite all of my whining I do like having something to do on a weekend morning. Gus has more AM energy than PM (until bedtime, of course), and the day always seems to go better when we get out of the house. Though we can certainly find a class or something else to do on the weekends. (I’m going to call about ice skating tomorrow!)

I am pretty far down the sporty ladder (on the klutzy rungs), but I did play soccer as a kid and it really seemed like something Gus could like, too. But I don’t know, most of the time I think the whole team sports thing is bungus. Of course it’s important to be able to work in a group. But I also think that kids get a lot of group work in many different contexts at school, from playing at recess to more organized things like gym class and building projects, etc. So I don’t really think that you HAVE to play sports to learn to be part of a team.

More than anything what keeps me worrying about sports/no sports is that horrible word: normal. Isn’t it normal for boys to like sports? Will other kids think he’s weird if he doesn’t?

(I fully realize that these are my own childhood demons rearing their ugly heads — I always felt like a nerdy weirdo, even when I had a group of good friends. Until college, of course, because you can’t feel like a nerd when you’re surrounded by other nerds!)

But it’s stupid for me to worry, for so many reasons:
1. No one is weird in NYC, because everyone is. That’s one of the reasons why we live here!

2. I have never seen such a strong sense of self-confidence in a small person than I see in Gus. Seriously, when he was about 3 he once shouted a kid twice his age (and 3x his size) right off the slide, so he could climb up it. I don’t know where he got it — certainly not from me.

So I shouldn’t worry. And I try not to. If only parenting weren’t so completely judgementified these days, it would be so much easier.

Normal, normal, normal — isn’t it just a town in Illinois? Of course it is.

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wheezing and sneezing and

maura @ 9:45 pm

And speaking of Cocteau Twins lyrics, here are the last 3 captchas I had to enter when I posted a blag tonight for the coop environmental committee:

pingba
wasill
ancyc

I haven’t twittered or facebooked at all today, how can that be?! I do find that excessive twittering + facebooking suck blag energy. What can you do, there’s only so much time in the day. (Okay, I just twittered. I cannot say “tweet,” it is just too precious.)

Hey, my leg is feeling better! So much so that I walked 1/3 of the way to work today. For the remainder of the week I have 3 days in which I’ve got meetings/presentations in Manhattan, so here’s hoping I really am on the mend.

Thus ends tonight’s random entry. I really do mean to write about compost someday, but not tonight.

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in our angelhood

maura @ 9:34 pm

Today’s unanswered questions:

- What should I get everyone for Christmas?

- Why do the cats keep scratching the rugs (and the corollary, why isn’t the new anti-cat-scratching spray working?)

- How do you spell “corollary,” anyway?

- If I get a USB turntable, can I plug it right into our prehistoric amp + speakers? And if we get rid of said ancient (17-yr-old!) hi-fi stereo amplifier, how will I listen to my records on my new turntable?

- Assuming acquisition of said turntable, will I ever find time to rip my records to digital files?

- And speaking of time, how can I get back on my daily reading track?

- Will I have time to sew myself a new iphone cozy, purse and in-bag purse-like organizer over the holidays?

- If I go to sleep now, will I kick the exhaustion that’s dogged me for the past few days?

- Are accurate lyrics for older Cocteau Twins songs available anywhere online? Or was Liz Fraser just making it all up as she went along?

- Will I ever get over my annoyance at that nightclub in Philly that wouldn’t let my underage self (accompanied by my dad) in to see The Chameleons play on their last ever U.S. tour?

- What should I get my brother for his birthday?

- Did we pay less than our fair share at Japanese dinner tonight?

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fashion crisis hits new york, part deux

maura @ 7:43 pm

(because French is the fancy language of fashion!)

To continue: last night I was saying that lately I seem to be completely unable to dress myself. Not in the mechanical sense, though I would love a machine that comes out of the floor to dress me in the morning (like Robert Downey Jr. had in Iron Man). No, in the looking-put-together way.

(I should mention that the title is a song by Irish pop band the Frank and Walters, and that it pops right into my head on mornings when I’m standing in front of the open closet and having a particularly rough time of it.)

Problem #1 is, as ever, my unreasonably high expectations. I want to wear clothes for work that fit me well and that are fashionable in a classic yet interesting way. I like colors (and plaid and stripes!), but I like black/gray/brown, too. I guess the look I’m going for is quirky yet professional. And a bit dressy, because that’s the way we roll @ MPOW. I also want to be able to get most of my clothes secondhand, for ethical + thrifty reasons.

So. Usually I shop at my local Goodwill, which has a surprisingly great selection of clothes. I always say that it’s like the rich people from the adjacent neighborhood just dump all of their slightly used stuff at this store, because I often score clothes from Banana Republic, Ann Taylor, etc. I’ve been able to find a lot of great pieces at the Goodwill, and supplement them with a few things from real stores (mostly H&M and Old Navy). And if for some reason the item of clothing just doesn’t work out, it’s only $5 max down the drain.

The problem comes down to matching. Lots of my clothes match easily, but I can’t seem to find appropriate things to wear with many others. Which is frustrating, because I don’t have time to shop often, so the unmatchable items end up sitting in my closet for ages, despite the fact that I love them. While shopping I’ve tried to think about what I already own that matches things I’m considering buying, but that hasn’t worked. And I’ve seriously considered taking pictures of every piece of clothing to bring with me on my phone to the store. Which is just crushingly nerdy, and probably wouldn’t work anyway. Sigh.

The solution is clearly uniforms. Librarians for uniforms — who’s with me?

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banned from the end of the world

maura @ 11:19 pm

Gentle readers, have you been waiting with baited breath, wondering how my owies are doing? You have? So sweet of you. Why yes, I’d love to share the gory details, thanks for asking!

(If you were here I’d show you the wounds, but you’re not and the camera is all the way in the other room, and my knee hurts, dammit!)

We’re now on day 6 post-idiotic-falling-while-running-accident, and I’m pleased to say that nearly all of my wounds have stopped oozing. Yippee! A glaring exception is my knee, which is still in pretty bad shape. But this morning Gus said, “Mommy, your face looks better!” He then proceeded to kiss my eyebrows (sort of his security blanket, my eyebrows), so I know he means it.

One thing about injuries, they provide a fantastic vocabulary-boosting opportunity. Did you know that the yellowish-white goo that oozes from an abrasion is called exudate? Did you? Well, now you do.

I ointmented and bandaged myself up on Monday and hobbled into work (damn those 50+ subway stairs), where I was instantly mortified by everyone’s sympathy (yes, I am an idiot, please don’t remind me!). BUT, I’d completely forgotten that one of my coworkers is a bicycle racer, and thus knows a thing or two about road rash. He had some great tips, chief among them this new, cool, cling-wrap-esque bandage that’s actually letting me bend my knee without excruciating pain. Thanks, Xavier!

However, my face, while mostly non-oozy (save for a tiny spot on the bridge of my nose), is still a sight. I now have 3 big and 2 tiny red patches where the ooze used to be. Luckily I can cover them with makeup now, since they’ve dried out (and luckily I still have some coverup from last year’s forehead carcinoma removal, the first of what I’m sure will be many forays into the land of skin cancer). But vanity, thy name is ME, ooh boy. If the carcinoma is any indication, these owies will fade to lovely pale white spots, paler than the rest of my skin. Thanks, Celtic heritage, for giving me that easy-to-scar skin. Off to the pub to drown my sorrows in a pint.

Or not really. Really I am drinking a glass of wine and wondering why I am still awake at 11:05pm. It’s Gus’ fault — he didn’t conk out til after 9:30 tonight, and I gots stuff to do, blogs to read, PTA tshirts to coordinate. Plus, after 11 days of evil heat (ending with a few days of the mid-90s, a temperature that I believe should NEVER be reached at this latitude), it’s a breezy and fabulous 70-ish degrees today. The house is airing out, and the piles of laundry I couldn’t stand to do in our apartment without an outdoor-vented dryer are all lined up for tomorrow morning. All is right with the world.

I suspect Gus, at 3 1/2, may finally be ready to give up his nap. The problem is that he goes to school every day and they nap there. So we have no control over it, really. I guess we’ll just move the bedtime stuff back a bit to accommodate his wakefulness. Drag, though, as that shrinks the evening grownup time evermore. Maybe we can get him to play quietly by himself while we check email. HA hahahahaha! I’m so funny.

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oozy, sad

maura @ 11:50 am

No Poconos for us, no nature, no getting out of the hot hot city. Woke up this morning and though my face has scabbed over nicely (if there even is such a thing) my knee is still oozy and swollen, and has produced in me a fetching limp. Man, this sucks. Plus, every part of me that hit the pavement (nose, lip, chin, shoulder, elbow and esp. knee) still hurts. Owie owie owie.

So now we’re stuck here all weekend. Jonathan’s taken Gus to the playground this morning, and hopefully by the afternoon I’ll feel okay enough that we can all do something together.

Mostly I just still feel like a huge, total, complete loser. I dread going into the office on Monday, and having to explain the face carnage. Maybe I should start making up stories now. Barfight! Mugging! Chainsaw accident! Sandpaper mishap! Nah, none is as lame and painful as the actual truth.

Mope, mope, mope.

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in the corners of your mind

maura @ 9:37 pm

I did a hugely stupid thing today: while running to get the bus (wearing slip-on shoes and dragging the folded umbrella stroller beside me, duh) I tripped and did a giant face plant right on the sidewalk. My hands are abraded, my arm has a few scrapes, my knee is angry red hamburger, and my nose + mouth area looks like I got into a fight with sandpaper (and lost). Sigh. What a klutz am I. A friend/neighbor even walked by when I was sitting there on the ground, cleaning myself up with wipes. O, the embarrassment.

Then I had to surrender the day and sit at home with ice on my face + knee, ditching Gus pickup (Jonathan did it, I didn’t just leave him at school forever!) and our afternoon playdate, too. Sigh. I think I have the beginnings of a black eye, too. Gus said, “Mommy, your face is yucky. If I had those owies I would cry. I do NOT want to have those owies. No no no.” Thanks, kid. Luckily he followed it up with an offer of a hug to make me feel better.

And then he insisted that I paint the the toenails of my right foot with his blue nail polish (I’d already done the left foot yesterday). Yes, I recently purchased my son his first makeup: a bottle each of blue and pink nail polish. A little (boy) friend of his at school’s had toenail polish on recently, and Gus has been mighty envious. Of course, he is completely deprived in the makeup department, since I don’t really wear any (except face powder, which he occasionally asks to use and applies with a completely straight, serious face. It slays me.). So I bought him some nail polish. He’s been carrying the bottles around ever since, proclaiming his love for them. He prefers the blue, because it’s his favorite color, but pink is his second favorite.

Meanwhile, I am remembering from high school that, man, I hate nail polish. As my friend IMed me this morning, makes me feel like my nails can’t breathe. I’ve consented to do the feet but there is no way he’s getting that on my fingers, no way in hell.

Between the wretched heat (in the upper 80s with matching humidity here all damn week), some general grumpiness and today’s sidewalk mishap, it occurs to me that this has been a pretty crappy week. EXCEPT for the most excellent new Ivy CD, which Jonathan gifted me for my bday last week and which I really, really love. There are a few tracks that are kind of eh, but the good ones are really, really good. Of course I am doing that thing with music that I seem to not be able to stop doing lately, which is listen to it over and over and over again. Then stop, and move on to a different CD. Obsessive, much?

That’s pretty much it from my world. Tomorrow we are supposed to go to the Poconos with some friends/neighbors for fun + nature, but I might have to call it off if my face hasn’t improved. Drag, too, as I speedy-ordered a new bathing suit for river swimming, having been possessed by sudden and insane vanity this week. Which of course is probably why I did the face plant. See, it all makes sense now!

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