Posts from — September 2009

Mac the Knife(d)

Yestertime Macintosh Computer – 2006-2009.

Rest in pieces.


September 30, 2009   4 Comments

A tale of fake German and woe

If you’ve spent any time at all reading past posts here, you are well aware of the much maligned bathtub- and dishwasher-less situation of our old house and my fantasies of having said fixtures.  The week or so after we moved into our new place, thus acquiring said glories, not just one but BOTH of them broke, requiring repair.  This was my first glimpse into the powerful, life-controlling machinery that is MY ENTHUSIASM.  But did I learn my lesson from this?  OH NO, I DID NOT.  Sunday night I had my Monday post all time stamped and set to publish, thinking (ENTHUSIASTICALLY, this was my fatal flaw) how clever I was to have pre-planned and bought myself scads and scads of blogging time.

Clearly I underestimated the cosmic powers of my cheerful naivete.

My Mac is BROKE.  Like broke broke.  Monday I had been tooling around, Internetically speaking, when all of a sudden the screen, in horrible reverse Wizard of Oz fashion, turned all the images gray and informed me, in what I am certain would have been a robotic voice were it to have happened aloud, “You must restart your computer.”  The Gray Screen Of Death seemed serious enough to me, but my Mac, ensuring that I would Take It V. Seriously, repeated the message in no less than FOUR languages. Just in case I was confused after reading the English and needed foreign language confirmation. Or in case I was quadralingual.  Either way, the message was clear: WE AIN’T MESSIN’ AROUND ABOUT THE RESTARTIN’, WOMAN. (Update: see comments section for handy visual aid! That L included to point out my fake German!)

Ever the optimist (you know, after saying WTF LAPTOP? out loud), I restarted and pulled up all my previous screens and continued on my way….until five minutes later when I was greeted with the EIN REBOOTEN ACHTUNG (loosely translated) screen once more. Restart number two yielded me two minutes of screen time, restart three, one, and then finally the last time as the Harmonious Mac Chord was chiming, everything froze and a black box popped up that was devoid of text, but was clearly saying Earlier We Were Being Nice, But What We Really Meant To Say Was: YOU’RE FUCKED.

So the laptop is off to the Mac hospital, and I am crossing my toes that I don’t receive a phone call telling me that “all your pictures and blog files and the like are now off to data heaven, but it’s ok because you’ll always have the memories!” except not really because that computer was where I was stashing all those memories and if I have to rely on the old fashioned method of Facts In My Head, then years from now you can be sure that when asked about my childrens’ early years I will pause for an embarrassingly long time before answering, “They said some things. And pooped.  And occasionally I bathed them. I think.”

Posting will most likely be light until I can work up my arm wrestling endurance and gain control over L’s laptop for a few hours.  Apparently in law school you’re required to do all kinds of computer-requiring things like reviewing documents and writing briefs which according to L, trumps “watching downloaded True Blood.”

WHATEVER DUDE.  I’ll see you at the kitchen table with my sleeves rolled up.

September 24, 2009   10 Comments

The best girl

I don’t know how you guys feel about listening to yourself speak, but hearing my own voice played back to me via any type of media makes me involuntarily stand up and start walking anywhere I can go to get myself away from THE NOISE OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT AWFUL NOISE. And when that voice is speaking to a baby? Let’s just say I’d rather hear all three movements of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata performed by fingernails on a blackboard. I am not even kidding.

However, I am shoving that neurotic aversion aside to bring you this clip, which has no real point or plot but which DOES have: gap tooth grinning, Yeahs, bye bye hands, and around the 0:27 mark, my favorite: a Really Cute Baby Sound That Is Indecipherable But Undeniably A Question.

Full disclosure: I am definitely going through a Smitten-With-Rosie phase these days. I almost set this 42 second video to music, before realizing that doing so would most certainly mean that I need to Get A Hold Of Myself Already.

The Rosie and Rachel Show from racher on Vimeo.

September 21, 2009   2 Comments

A Lovely Evening For Eating Outside

“Can we eat outside?”
He asks,
And waits for the answer
With breath bated,
And shining face upturned,
Full of hope.

I look around
At the forlorn patio
And its sticky tables,
Wads of gum barely concealed
In their abandoned umbrella holes.

DQ Jail

Then moving his gaze
Past my eyes
Towards the dusky sky,
He continues.
“It’s a lovely evening,”
He says
“For eating outside.”

After pausing for a moment
To wonder
When he started
Sounding sixty five
And also British
I agree and acquiesce.


It seems unbelievable
That such small allowances
On my part
Can create such joy
On his.
But they do.


It’s just
A two dollar cup of ice cream
At a metal table
On a concrete slab
Inside a rusty fence
On a busy highway.


And yet
We sat there
Beneath the fluorescent
Ice cream sign
And the purple sky.
A boy and his mama
Sharing a treat al fresco.

FACE again!

And it was
A very lovely evening

DQ in the hizzouse!

September 18, 2009   5 Comments

A quick word on sleep, or lack thereof

L and I are currently side by side on the couch, searing the tops of our thighs with separate laptops. His is open to some law-ish thing like “Torts: They’re Not For Eating” and I have this window up, as well as up top tabs saving my Google searches for both “red spot, skin, children” (an image search I will never again do while eating thankyouverymuch) and “frequent night waking, 10-month old”, a topic that has just ramped up its relevance even as I was typing those very words because now the living room is filled with the sounds of WAAAHBABABANUHNUHNUH MAMAMAMAMA. Oh sweet Jesus baby girl go to SLEEP.

This is night BWUHteen of this wake-cry-shush-bounce-rock-pray-repeat cycle, and the edges of my patience have been steadily chipping away until soon I am pretty sure I might pawn off my wedding ring for a syringe of infant phenobarbital.

The Sleeping Thing: it is, in my opinion, one of the most frustrating, time consuming, arduous, obsessed over, God-awful things about being responsible for a tiny, non-speaking human. Nothing will make you turn feral quicker than a few nights of a wailing alarm clock set to Whenever You Have Just Fallen To Sleep O’ Clock. And there is some sort of selective memory about this, where you’re coasting through the day doing your thing thinking, Hey! I’m doing ok! and then something small like not being able to untangle your computer’s power cord makes you LOSE. YOUR. SHIT. and you think “Whoa, where did that come from?” And then your memory becomes unselective and you remember oh, right: I HAVEN’T SLEPT SINCE TUESDAY.

The other thing about the whole waking ad infinitum is that it robs me of the few child-free hours that I have every evening.  This is equally, if not more, crippling to my ability to function.  It stretches my 12 hour day of work into a 14 or 15 hour one, and, (since I am stubborn) I refuse to relinquish the time lost and end up stay awake until 12:30 or 1 doing the things I hoped to have time to do (like this blog – hi!), back when I was selectively remembering.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, it is too late to continue this rant. So I’ll just reiterate the most important sentence of it – Please, please, please, please PLEASE sweet Jesus, baby girl: Go to sleep.

September 17, 2009   No Comments