Driven to distraction

To keep myself from dwelling on the big things that I cannot control (i.e. the election) and the little things (i.e. the downfall of the TiVo impersonators and my feelings of technological inadequacy), I've done some window shopping.

It began when Emily Martin (of Black Apple fame) mentioned Wardrobe Remix on her other blog. Now I just sit and stare at the pictures of people in their everyday clothes while my brain fuzzes over. Sweet, sweet peace.

I have actually learned a few things too. Buffalo really needs to get an H&M or a Zara. And I am going to embark on a little wardrobe remix project of my own, which is to wear skirts on occasion instead of just jeans and T-shirts. I don't plan on taking any photos of myself to add to the anonymous fashion parade, but if I do, I will be sure to post about it.

Time to concede

The TiVo impersonators finally got the best of us. Cary and I dismantled them last night and re-installed our old TiVo. Now once again we can have audio and video that are in sync! We can use the microwave without making the TV freeze!

It makes me feel a little queasy to think of the amount of time and energy that I devoted to trying to make these stupid things work. I just want to watch a little TV at night. I don't want to devote the better part of my day to trouble shooting only to have the system fail just when it is time for Project Runway.

Cary and I may be technologically landlocked, but at least we are happier.

Not so great news from the Vet

The Vet called to say she got the report back from the Histopath regarding Sufi's tumor. The Histopath thought the Vet didn't get the whole tumor. Shit. But he couldn't be sure. Which leaves me wondering why the hell couldn't he be sure? The Vet tried to pawn the blame off on the lab techs that took the sample for the histopath. I really don't care who is to blame I just wish the news was better.

In annoying, but less important news, I spent the morning running around trying to get a NYS enhanced driver's license. And I learned something about myself. No, not that I hate senseless buracracy, but that my birth certificate is not valid proof of citizenship. Apparently in the state of Illinois it was (is?) commonplace to give out a hospital certificate with a little poem about angels and my mother's thumbprint. However I never received a copy of the state's record of my birth, which is the only proof NYS or the US Govt will accept for creating travel documents. So, close to $50 later, nearly 1/2 of which was for UPS overnight shipping (why do they only give me one choice for shipping and it costs $19!), I will have all the documentation I need to spend another $80 on the enhanced driver's license, so I can still go to Canada. Grr.

It's already Sunday afternoon?!

I've slept the weekend away. I've had a terrible cold and have pretty much spent several hours each day completely knocked out. I hope this doesn't lead to insomnia tonight...

Our TiVo impersonators still don't work correctly, nor is the picture good enough for Cary to enjoy football. I don't even care any more, but I wish we had never bought them. TiVo made TV so much better and these things make it an infinite hassle where there is always a new problem to worry about.

I've got a couple new reviews up. I review The Donkeys' Living on the Other Side over at Venus and I review Lightbulbs by Fujiya & Miyagi at Donnybrook.

In which I bitch about the PTA

Why is it that the PTA at Henry's school seems to go out of their way to make me feel like I am inconveniencing them every time I volunteer to help? I volunteered to be the room parent last year because they asked me to, and I did not enjoy it. This year I wrote on the form to "call me if no one else volunteers" because last year that is what they told us to do. Sure enough, someone called me and asked me to be a room parent. I said sure. This was a couple of weeks ago. Then I got a call today, three hours before I was supposed to be at a meeting for room parents, saying that "people who had never done it had asked if they could be room parent, so they had to let them because that was their policy."

To which I say, "fine." But instead of saying, "we really appreciate your offer to help" she acted like she needed to comfort me that I hadn't been chosen and told me that I shouldn't fret because "I could still get into the classroom on party days." What? Is the classroom like a secret society that I need a key for? And why didn't they wait to call until they knew everyone had responded? Isn't that just common sense?

This is probably the fifth time I've dealt with the PTA and every single time has been unpleasant, insensitive, and rude. If I didn't feel guilt for not having a real job I would have a much easier time saying no. I think that's why I feel so crappy about this. That, and because in three years at Henry's school I have yet to make friends with even one other parent.

What I woke up to this morning

A huge tree had cracked in half when the remnants of Ike passed through last night.
But I was still happy to see how nice the Cimifuga looked surrounded by the Toad lilies and Astilbe, and I was grateful that the lawn was the only thing crushed by the falling tree.

Apropos of nothing, I've got a new review of the glammy Semi Precious Weapons up at Venus.

Today sucked for the following reasons:

1. Henry completely lost it on the soccer field. And while I was not there to see it, both he and Cary came home from the game, early, and utterly deflated.

2. Sufi was traumatized by my two attempts to administer her pain pill via syringe. Now she isn't eating again. But I'm comforted that she is sitting in my lap, purring as I type this.

3. The weather was dark and wet. I'm not sure the sun even rose today.

4. According to the NYT David Foster Wallace committed suicide. Suicide is largely a permanent solution to a temporary problem. I still grieve for Spaulding Gray and his family. And I wish we lived in a country that fostered better support for depression.

5. I'm starting to freak out about the election. I can't live with the idea that a book burning Jesus freak might be making decisions that affect my children for the rest of their lives. Toronto has never looked so good.

6. And the TiVo impersonators are crapping out on us again.

It was another long day

but hey, that's my bread and butter.

Have I mentioned the new computer? Yah. The computer itself is actually fine, but the ancillary TiVo impersonators and the router were giving me fits. I spent three hours on the phone with tech support today. Then a quick call to my knowledgeable brother-in-law solved everything. As of now we have a working system, but I'm not confident that it will still work tomorrow.

In more important news, I took Sufi in to have a tumor removed from her upper lip. She's at least 13, and with each passing year I worry more about her health. The surgery went really well, though the portion of her lip and cheek on the left side of her face is no more. Still as sweet as ever, she sat on my lap and purred all evening, even though she has shaved whiskers and an Elizabethan collar.

First world problem if ever there was one...

We got a new computer today. I have been working on setting it up since 3 pm, however, I still can't post from it or use it for e-mail until I decide to give up the ghost of migrating Firefox and Thunderbird from XP to Vista. I think I figured out what to do with my iPod. A pox on technology.

On the bright side, I stopped thinking about Sarah Palin for more than five minutes.

Henry's first day of school was free of nosebleeds, forgotten backpacks, and homework! Can't ask for more than that. I hope everyone else's kids fared as well.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow

Henry starts second grade tomorrow. As I just told him, kids I knew in second grade came to my wedding. And that's enough to freak me out before anything even goes wrong. I really hope this is his year. The year that we do not get "the phone call." Maybe even the year that he initiates having his friends over. It's tough not to raise the expectations unreasonably. It's even tougher to believe that, in a pinch, he's big enough to wear my socks.