Google’s antics

It’s been driving me insane that ever since I logged onto Google’s French version to send my mum some links to French websites, my Google homepage has been in French.

I like French. Really. But I don’t read it very well. And I don’t want to get French web sites in my search results.

Finally, today, I spied a little “preferences” link — it said something else, the French word for “preferences,” whatever that is, and I’m not turning it all French again to find out. So I clicked it. And found a list of languages I could have Google use. “Elmer Fudd” was among them. So of course I changed my default language to that.

And then I discovered “Bork, bork bork!” Since I had something I actually wanted to search for, I decided to change it to “Eeenglish” and will leave things there for the time being. Probably forever. But who knew you could have your search results delivered in Elmer-Fuddish? Not me.

The Internet blows my mind sometimes

What would life have been like if I’d have grown up with the ‘net as it is now?

Would I have finished university, taking online classes from my apartment? Or my mum’s house? Would I have had more friends in high school because it would have been easier for me to IM, e-mail or text them rather than talk in person? (Remember, I prefer writing to in-person conversations. I’ve never liked talking on the phone much – except to my Mum.)

I was thinking about that today while I was hanging out with Duncan.

And think of all the things I could have found out about people. Even now, there’s so much on the Internet I don’t know about and don’t seem able to keep up with. Like “missed connections” on craigslist. Holy crap.

I only found out about it because I got a Google Alert for my church and saw this post. (So is Paul the guy who was in the back row, or is Paul the guy that the guy in the back row thinks is “sexy and sweet”? Not judging, I met Kevin in church.)

I’m not going to be spending a whole lot of time checking out the missed connections. I wonder where “Eastway” Wegmans is, though. Could I have been the “CUTE milf“? That would require me to remember what Wegmans I went to, on which day, let alone some bald dude. Way too much work.
But reading other people’s posts and hopes to somehow hook up with someone they saw somewhere sometime, it’s crazy. Kinda good crazy. But still.

Yes, I’m this happy about pants

I’m generally not one to spend too much time looking back.

When I do, it’s because I’m lying awake at night talking to imaginary people that aren’t really there. Explaining stuff from the past — to them, and to myself.

But sometimes there’s benefit in revisiting the past.

While procrastinating about calling some prospective clients today, I took a look at the photos I’d posted to the blog. And I found this post. What’s so fascinating about this post? Not the photos of my Duncan cutie, surprisingly. It was this little, innocent line: “Along the way, I stopped in Old Navy and bought a couple of pairs of pants — in size 10.”

I have size 10 pants somewhere in the closet! Pants that might fit me now! (Granted, when I wrote that post, Duncan was just over 2 months old, about the same age Berry is now, but I was 10 lbs heavier when I got pregnant with him, so I must have been much closer to my pre-pregnancy weight then than I am now…but anyway.) Pants that might fit me!

I went to Target a few weeks ago and bought 2 pairs of size 12 pants – some capris and a pair of shorts. They still fit. But there’s only two of them. And I know I haven’t talked about Berry much, but she spits up. A lot. I probably haven’t had time to post about it in between doing piles of puke-covered laundry.

So 2 pairs of pants doesn’t cut it.

After reading about them, I vaguely remembered these size 10 pants. After rummaging in the top of the closet, I actually found them. One pair is more “work” style. But the others are perfect for my new work wardrobe (and actually quite dressy compared to the PJs I wore all day yesterday). I also unearthed a pair of promising-looking shorts. It was a good start to the day.

Then I procrastinated some more about cold-calling people (although I did do about 20 calls which were all excrutiatingly painful). I took a look back in the past some more and read Omar’s posts about parenting.

The room juggle

At dinner on Thursday night, a friend of mine brought my attention to my remissiveness about posting about our home improvements.

I was mostly writing about them on the insider blog in 2006. First it was the new roof. Then the attic renovation.

First came the insulation removal. Yuck. It was filthy and I managed to get some in my eye, earning me a week of no-contact-lense-wearing. Then the re-insulation of the attic – during which my husband decided to listen to my “expert” advice and missed an important step, resulting in having to re-do half the insulation.

While I admit fault in steering him wrong and am pleased he heeded me, I’m still left wondering why he looked to me for home improvement instructions. He installed our new kitchen 2 years ago. I just stayed out of the way and ordered pizza. I paint, he installs and fixes things. That’s how it works around here. way

Anyway, the insulation went up over the summer. Then the drywall made it’s appearance.

We got it delivered from…hmm…Rochester Building Supply, I think. They wrangled their big boom truck down our little street and boomed it in through the attic window. Really, they were great. Someone came out before the delivery to actually measure the window and make sure it’d clear. It did — by 1/2″.

Now we’re onto the mudding. After that I’m told it’s painting, then carpet time, then I get to move my office up there!

Note: I won’t be doing the painting. I am 7 months pregnant and not that ambitious.

I will, however, be painting my office so that Duncan can move in here, freeing his room for the baby. The baby that will arrive sometime in the next 9-10 weeks. We have a deadline, people. This HAS to get done. (Can you sense the panic?)

Don’t worry, I have a plan. I’m in the midst of packing my office so that — if need be — I can go ahead and paint it and get it ready for Duncan before the attic is finished and ready for me. After all, it’s not like I’m going to be doing much filing right after Berry is born (yes, that’s what we’re naming her).

Between yesterday and today I have managed to pack 11 boxes of books, photos and CDs. Yet my bookshelves still aren’t bare. I do have a shelf full of books to either sell to a used book store or freecycle. And unfortunately, for painting to begin, the shelves all have to come down. At least we have 9 weeks, right?

Argh. Technology

I had a lovely rant about my iTunes software not working on my PC (making my mum think she shouldn’t buy me that iPod stereo dock that I want for Christmas). And my server ate it.

I’m guessing they had some kind of technical issues, because my site and e-mail were down for a while over the weekend. And then my blog post disappeared (they must have gone to a backup which didn’t have the post on it). Of course, that makes me wonder if I lost e-mail, too. But we’ll never know.

Anyway. It appears that my rant was needless. No, iTunes hasn’t magically started working on my computer. But I’ve discovered that it’s not the only program that will read iTunes imported files and connect to my iPod. Real Player does. I was surprised.

First I tried Windows Media Player. I wasn’t happy about it. I’ve never liked WMP. And it didn’t recognize any of the dozens of CDs I’d previously imported through iTunes. So then I launched Real Player and voila! It does everything I need it to.

I still prefer the functionality of iTunes (plus I’m used to it). But overall, I’ll pick the program that actually works and lets me listen to music.

Before I was feeling stuck that I had an iPod – of which I am rather fond – but no software to sync it with. One of the reasons I spent more $$ for less GB and got an iPod was that I loved iTunes so much, if you can believe that (plus they look really cool). But I’m sticking with the iPod, so go ahead and buy me that speaker dock for it, Mum.

My first act of citizenship

I did something today I’ve been unable to do in the 15 years I’ve lived in the United States. I voted.

There’s not a lot else I get to do as a citizen — rather than as the permanent resident I was. Voting. Going to an American jail rather than being deported (depending on the crime I was convicted of — which I plan never to experience). Eligibility for a government job. Having an American passport. That’s about it.

I do also get to hold the same citizenship as my husband, son and soon-to-be second offspring. A comforting thought. But I’ve always wanted to vote.

Granted, I’m probably not as informed on all the issues as I could be. I don’t know all the judges’ sentencing records. I haven’t read everything every candidate has had to say on every issue. I’m also not sure what party I’d belong to if I had to choose one. Fortunately I don’t.

Our polling place is the school at the end of the street (conveniently located next to a playground), so Kevin, Duncan and I took a stroll down this morning and each collected our “I Voted Today!” sticker. Duncan ran around the gymnasium while Kevin voted and someone explained how the voting machine works to me. Then they went to the playground so I could come home and work…or blog.

Things I found from last December

I got sucked into the computer last night instead of going to bed early along with everyone else (is my body actually getting used to functioning on less than a full night’s sleep?) and wound up reading a couple of blogs after doing a Google blog search on my name.

(Yes, I realize searching for one’s own name sounds tremendously narcisistic  but I couldn’t think of any other narrow search term at the time.)

I ran across two entries from December 2005. One had an excerpt of Duncan’s birth story, which lead me to read the full thing (on the old blog). I’d forgotten that I lost a pint of blood. In retrospect, that’s a lot of blood. No wonder my midwife looked concerned and the nurse started jabbing me with IM medication. I remember seeing the blood pour out of me and thinking it looked like an awful lot. That also explains why I was shaking so hard. I thought it was adrenaline, maybe it was sudden blood loss. In any rate, I’m absolutely fine now (if a tad sleep deprived). But it was a yank back in time to when Duncan was brand new.
The other entry was from my virtual friend Christina Miller’s blog, tagging me for a meme on my reading preferences. Hmm…guess I should complete that. (Although I’m honeslty not completely sure what a meme is. It’s a word I’ve heard/read before but just haven’t paid attention to.)

In a completely unrelated thought, the World Health Organization (a group I quote frequently when asked how long I’m going to breastfeed), announced new child growth standards yesterday. It doesn’t matter what charts you use, though, Duncan is still on the giant baby side. Apparently a perfectly average 9-month-old would be 28″ and 20 lbs. The child (a.k.a. my adorable, well-loved sweet kissable baby) is 31″ and 24.5 lbs., the size of an average 16-month-old.

An alien no more

Very soon — in just a couple hundred minutes — I will no longer be able to say that I’m an alien.

I’m being naturalized today.

I have’t been thinking too much about it. I applied for US citizenship when Duncan was 2 months old. I’ve driven back and forth to Buffalo a couple of times — once to be fingerprinted, the second for an interview and my English and civics tests. They gave me my naturalization ceremony date and it’s been on my “to do” list for this week.

I’ve known it’s coming up, but I haven’t really THOUGHT about it. I think I might get too nervous. I am, already.

Since we have to get on the road to get to the ceremony place (a school in Fairport), I don’t have the luxury of time to delve into my feelings. Nor do I really want to. What I will say is that whenever I did the PR for the naturalization ceremony held at RIT every year in early May, I always envisioned myself having my ceremony there too. But when the time came to choose, they’d already scheduled me for this one (which is a month earlier, too) and I’ve already been to 3 or 4 ceremonies in RIT’s Ingle Auditorium. Seems like it’s time for something new.

Although if I were at RIT, I could have gone for Ben & Jerry’s ice cream afterwards…

I bought a car on ebay

Well, we bought a car. I couldn’t have – and wouldn’t have – done it without Kevin. I feel very fortunate to have a mechanically inclined man around to confidently kick the tires and take a look in the engine (and actually know what he’s looking at).

I always looked in the engine of any used car I bought. I made noises – uh huh, hmmm, um, yep, that looks OK – like I knew what I was doing. Like a doctor, really. Never told anyone what I was looking for. I inspected the tread on the tires, carefully went over the body for signs of rust, took it for a test drive to “check the wheel alignment.” Yeah.

This time I just looked at pictures and clicked a “bid” button. Much easier. And less stressful. Especially given that I didn’t have to drive to Maryland to pick it up. Yep, Maryland. 6-7 hours drive, I think. I don’t know as I wasn’t there. I was asleep most of the time, as Kevin left in the wee morning hours on Tuesday.

He got home Tuesday afternoon, said everything went OK. The dealer even traded in the old beater he drove down there that we were planning on donating to the kidneys (the Kidney Foundation). Less hassle that way. We got $5 for it.

So now we have a 98 Subaru Legacy wagon – the perfect mum-mobile for a mini-van holdout. I don’t think a minivan would fit in our driveway, anyway. It runs OK. It goes to get inspected Tuesday morning. We think it needs a new wheel bearing. It’s been a well-loved car. But for what we paid, it’s in pretty good shape and a good $1500 less than if we’d bought it locally.

She doesn’t have a name yet, though. Or he. Hmmm.

Best of Rochester

OK, so not enough of you guys voted for me as best Rochester blog! But somehow, mysteriously, there are a couple of things related to me that did make it in City Newspaper’s Best of Rochester.

Plymouth Spiritualist Church came in second as Best Church Dinner (and who cooks those church meals, huh? Who got pancake breakfasts going every month? And put fruit in them?)

And, I think that the last comment under “Evidence we’re all going to hell” is mine: We’re not going to hell, that’s not very positive. Think positively!

The comment directly below for “Best way to lure people to the area: alcohol” also looks very familiar…I think that was Kevin’s (and probably some other people’s too).

So, 2 blog posts in 1 day and both about living in Rochester.