Tuesday, 19 August 2008
As I type this on the old laptop, well not actually on that laptop because its keyboard is torn up, but on the wireless keyboard, looking at the old laptop screen, not using the wireless mouse which seems to not be working, I contemplate the options: death by drowning, chainsaw, or blowtorch. No, I won't be arrested for murder. Pollution, perhaps, if I go with the first option.
It's my laptop, you see. You cannot imagine the emails I've lost, the posts I've never finished, all since my hard drive crashed a few weeks ago. In the time since, I've spent endless hours diddling with tech support, both online and on phone, the modem, the router, the repairs to the cable, the old printer, the new printer, the big LCD monitor. None of them work. At least, not all at once, and frequently several are on strike together.
It's my own fault. I reasoned, why throw good money ($250 extended warranty 1 year) after bad (the actual purchase price of the laptop a year ago). So the replacement hard drive they sent apparently had a curse placed on it. I hate Vista. I hate Microsoft. I hate anyone and everyone in the technical fields who either cannot or will not solve my problems.
Most of all, I hate my computer. If I solve these problems and do not destroy the system instead (I kid you not...I handed my husband the matches just two days ago and told him to set it on fire...he briefly considered it) I will uninstall Vista and install Windows XP. I will master the monitor and finally be able to work on two screens, a move necessitated by the latest departmental requirements of Big Brother and technology.
If not, you will see me on YouTube or the six o'clock news. I originally was going to write an insightful post here on near misses and how we cannot control the weather and the fact that I'm so happy everyone I love was spared and feeling guilty about the people who've died from Fay (we so often forget that the islanders are people too...it's not just Americans who suffer from tropical storms) and how happy I am that I have the day off and that the evacuees did not stay here after all and how my children are safe and my house is wonderfully clean. But you can see tech problems have destroyed yet another wonderful post.
Screw it. I'm going shopping.
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Monday, 18 August 2008
I've never been able to sleep the night before school starts. Public school begins here today, but the university students don't go back for another week. I'm in teaching workshops all week and having a terrible time trying to dredge up an ounce of enthusiasm. I talked to our granddaughters last night, wishing them a good first day of school today, sweet little kindergarten and first grade babies that they are. I want to hover, see them off the way I used to see my own little ones off. The little backpacks and lunchboxes and don't forget your rain jacket!--I miss the innocence and enthusiasm.
So, anyway, the sleep problems are wearing me down. Tech problems are ongoing too, and I am operating at about 65 percent now, when I've all this prep work to do. Office is as organized as it can be, considering, but I feel so...out of it. I crave sleep. Stupid hot flashes, stupid worrywart, stupid hurricane that creates an atmosphere of unsettling expectancy. Probably all we will get from Fay is a lot of rain and wind for a few days, but it makes you nervous what with all the kids back in school, the traffic, the mess that the local school bus transportation office is in here.
...and my vision problems are ongoing...still...and I wonder if I will be able to do all the reading this term, and how I will cope if I can't. And the stupid large monitor for my laptop is one of the tech problems, so it's hard to read what I'm writing even now. I am whining like a kid does when summer is over, aren't I? Bad IML. Go back to bed, and don't forget your rain jacket in the morning.
Sunday, 17 August 2008
You really can't blink these days. Motime disappeared, an absolutely adorable American broke Olympic records, Russia signed a truce, a megachurch and a couple of politicians blurred the church/state line of demarcation, and a hurricane named Fay began to look at Florida with a hungry eye, while IML and Mr. Bluesky went to see Tropic Thunder and laughed our proverbial asses off.
How could we possibly put all this in perspective without our Motime? Thanks, Howard, for the resurrection!
Thursday, 14 August 2008
Technology: 10. IML: 0
Plumbing problems: 5. Mr. Bluesky: 5
Insomnia: 2. Sleep: 8
Office clutter: 9. IML: 1
Ankle and foot problems: 4. IML: 6
Visits to retina specialist: countless. Resolution: none.
Doctors who push meds: 1. IML: 1 (the standoff continues)
Assorted food temptations: 3. IML: 7
Annoying people phoning about various causes: 9. IML: 1
Smart cracks from small children: 9. Clever responses from IML: 1
Guilt trips from Mom: 347. Successful avoidance of guilt for IML: 3.47
Contradictory and confusing communiques from work: 8. IML's ability to ignore these: 2
Mail orders: 3. Received: 1
Days left to deal with above before resuming insanity of job: 4
Nice. long, relaxing showers and a bed that envelops IML in comfort: priceless!
Friday, 08 August 2008
It's 7:17 a.m., and I've already journaled, washed breakfast dishes, and started a load of wash. I've had my two cups of coffee (realllly want more this morning but am resisting). I'm going to be selfish this morning and not read posts because I've got about fifteen minutes left to myself before the granddaughters arrive. The house is fairly clean and in order, and, although I've still tons to finish in the next week, I feel I have a handle on things now.
It's been one of those Murphy's Law weeks, but the bad has been interspersed with much good. I was without internet off and on, and yesterday the repairman explained why: squirrels had eaten through the cable box at the street, allowing rain to fill up the cable wires (they actually dripped water from inside) and lightning had hit the box at the house. These are the kinds of things that happen around here; I'm no longer amazed. As my dad used to joke, there's just something about me that pisses god off 
But we've also accomplished a lot, as well as taken a lot of time with the grandkids. Wednesday we explored dinosaurs at MOSI with our granddaughters. Tomorrow night we spend with our almost-two-year-old grandson, and he's a total delight, a fascinating creature.
All that's left to do in the bathroom is the last of the finishing touches: the vanity light, the towel bars and transom strip in the doorway. I'll post a photo next week, promise. It's a thing of beauty and a joy forever. Nothing, absolutely nothing, has tested us as a couple like this remodeling project has. We began the teardown on July 5 and are finishing on August 8. We completely gutted and rebuilt one small bathroom, and we found our own weak spots in the process. There's been very little middle ground; either we were completely at odds or in total bliss over this project from day one. And I know we're going to do this again because this house is falling apart.
But I think we'll wait a while. Like labor, you have to enjoy the baby for a bit before you contemplate repeating the experience, but once you've had one, you love 'em! Tonight we celebrate with champagne in the shower. The lighting is perfect, the candles are ready to be lit. Wait! Isn't this how we got in trouble in the first place?
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Tuesday, 05 August 2008
Every now and then, my mind slips into this groove where sleep becomes a nebulous, unobtainable thing and I wander the house like a ghost during the wee hours then doze off about 12 hours later, mid-afternoon. Lately, I wake up at 2 or 3 almost every night, and I've formed a pattern that's lasted for about two or three weeks now. The first night, I get up for about an hour, then fall back asleep. The second night, I'm up for two hours, then fall back asleep. The third night, I'm usually too exhausted to do anything but fall back asleep. Last night I was up two and a half hours, so I hope tonight I will sleep. I also never seem to get more than five hours' sleep altogether. This sad state of affairs must end, but I refuse to get into the sleeping pill cycle, and all the standard habits they recommend for a good night's sleep aren't working yet.
It doesn't help that we're still sleeping in the guest room. It doesn't help that apparently I've overtaxed the little AC unit in that room. It doesn't help that the bed is ultra-firm. It doesn't help that the house is still not ready for me to go back to work. It doesn't help that I wander the house at 2 and 3 and 4 with a measuring tape in hand, wondering if the vanity we bought is going to leave enough space for the designer wastebasket, wondering if we replace our bed with a super-comfy larger bed (hotel living has actually spoiled us) will the antique bed I slept in as a child with its scrolled head and footboard actually fit in the guest room (not very well), wondering if we spend every last cent if my husband's company will decide to axe his department (aka Murphy's Law).
I've learned that there's something on every channel, even late at night. I've learned not to read murder mysteries late at night. I've learned that Sudoku will put me to sleep at any hour, but only for a short period of time. I've learned that I am too old to go without sleep.
So our new bathroom, which will be finished in the next couple of days, has lighting and colors that are relaxing. All the new beds and bedding I'm drooling over and trying to configure into our budget are ultra-comfy and cuddly and soft with soothing colors. The new little AC unit in that room is icy cold. I'm even practicing meditation, journaling, and exercising each morning. No caffeine beyond my two cups of morning coffee, and nearly no alcohol. Quiet evenings.
Should this elaborate strategy work, I will sleep like a baby....zzzz.....until dawn....zzzz....and not nod off in the afternoons....zzzz....or at 8:30 a.m.....zzzz....
Monday, 04 August 2008
Currently, the score is Technology: 9, IML: 1. I've managed to restore my iPod to my new hard drive and have sent what I hope is the correct form to iTunes requesting backup on my lost purchases, but I can't seem to open the Mac-supported program that might be able to move all the CDs I'd loaded on my iPod to my iTunes site, which means I may have to take hours, days to reload all my CDs onto my iPod again, once I've synced and lost them all. My laptop is not CD-drive friendly, tends to heat up.
I can't find all the photo files on the old laptop, but I'm still looking because I know they have to be there. Somewhere. It's six years old, poor baby, and has hobbled its way through the last two years of life. This one is not entirely my fault because I'm not the one who saved the photo files in that laptop, but then, I should have been the one to save if I wanted to find them later, right?
I've lost all my work files from the last year, everything that I did not save to my work website. I did save an awful lot to the website, and I probably have paper copies of the rest. Somewhere.
Have I mentioned how much I hate this laptop? My one-year warranty expires tomorrow, and I refuse to purchase the extended warranty. I will save EVERYTHING from now on, but will toss this laptop in the bay once it dies again. Okay, maybe not the bay, since I care about the aquatic environment, but I can fantasize, can't I?
I'm learning. I'm learning not to give up on tech issues because I feel inadequate and overwhelmed. I'm learning how to organize files better. But I'll never speak tech. I'm just not good at languages other than English.
Thursday, 31 July 2008
People, like nations, are most functional when their boundaries are set and their borders permeable. The other day I was talking with a friend who is very "into" personality types, perhaps because life has dealt her so many cruel blows that this is her means of self-definition. She claims, and I have no reason to disbelieve her, that she is not at all what people see, that life and her career force her to act like an extrovert, but that she really does not like people. Ironically, her happiest, magical years were spent with a complete extrovert. He died; she retreated. She went on with her life, but a big chunk of her remains locked away.
I seem to befriend people with strong personalities and brilliant minds, and each friendship has changed my perspective. For a long time, my sense of self was so murky that I blended with each person with whom I interacted. Largely, this may also have been due to the fact that most of my adult life was spent more in the company of children than with adults. I was a mother, and both my volunteer work and paying jobs were involved with supervising and working with children. I interacted with adults but formed no close friendships until I started college in my forties, largely because I was fundamentally different from most people I met.
Anyway, these conversations about personality types make me think about my own. I have been so impressionable that I've never been sure whether I'm an introvert or extrovert. I used to be so painfully shy that my husband's annual company party sent me into panic mode, and I hate "social" situations to this day, although I now know how to handle them. I can teach up to 88 students a day and love every minute in the classroom, but when I go home, I pretty much don't want to interact with one. more. person. (except hubby)
I love people, love to people-watch and love long days spent over coffee in one-on-one conversation. However, I find that I also love lots of time to myself and tend to withdraw from the world for days at a time. I'm happiest when I have the best of both worlds.
So I can't define my personality type, but I now know where I end and you begin, and I enjoy our time together as long as I have plenty of time alone. I guess that's all I really need to know.
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Wednesday, 30 July 2008
I try not to participate in trendy media frenzies, and I try not to hero-worship, but I have to tell you that I, like millions of others, absolutely adored Randy Pausch. I can't say that he changed my life, but he did inspire me, and I feel his loss more keenly than I've felt the passing of anyone that I did not know personally, so keenly that it's taken me several days to write about this.
I discovered his lecture online last fall, and I dragged my husband in to watch it with me. We read Randy's book a chapter at a time on the road this summer, savoring it, laughing and crying together at the extraordinary insight and amazing life of an exceptional human being. It was the sort of book that people relate to and are challenged by.
He never lost his child-like wonder, yet he was grounded. He cared and translated that caring into action. He loved without holding back. Randy Pausch helped me to look at my fears, to laugh at them, and to understand that it is possible to let go of fear and limited thinking to live life more fully.
I haven't had a hero for a very long time. Unlike Randy, I tend to become disillusioned and to give up. He never did.
Randy Pausch was my hero.
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Tuesday, 29 July 2008
...I'll light the fire. You place the flowers in the vase that you bought today...
Last night we installed the shower doors and then just sat in it, grinning at each other. We have to wait 24 hours for the silicone to cure, and we still have to install the tile floor and then the cabinetry and accessories, so we're like two kids drooling over cookies that are still in the oven, munching on cookie dough.
I've bought a ridiculously expensive (for us) wastebasket, dispenser, and toothbrush holder and just finished bookmarking some hand-painted switch plates I want to order when we have money again. I've framed a photo I took on one of our beach vacations in wood that matches our cabinets, ready to hang. This, from a woman once described as "unnatural" by her daughter-in-law because her home lacked the decorative touches.
But, you see, I've never before had the time or money to decorate in my style, never even could afford to figure out what my "style" might be. Our theme for this room is "beach," hardly original, but we spent a lot of time choosing each item according to our tastes. I did the research and legwork, and he helped me make final decisions. The room is so relaxing, so "us," that I could see spending entire evenings there after long days at work.
I woke up the other night, frantic, because I realized we've invested too much importance (as well as cash) in this project. How did an earth mom become so materialistic? What if the house catches on fire? We can't very well carry the bathroom out with us. And it seems rather silly that the most beautiful room in the house is one that only we will use. Despite all this, we find ourselves sneaking into the bathroom at all hours to admire our handiwork, like kids rattling pretty packages under the Christmas tree.
This bathroom is a gift we've given ourselves. It's the first major work project we've tackled, and we're proud of the results. More importantly, the whole process has brought us closer together, made us a better team, taught us a few things about ourselves and each other. We won't move back into that end of the house for at least another week, but we're already sketching out several other projects, frustrated at limitations of time and money, wanting to recreate the entire house to suit the people we are today, to make a building we raised a family in "our own."
...Our house is a very very fine house, with two cats in the yard, life used to be so hard, now everything is easy 'cause of you...
