Technical Difficulties, Please Stand By

Hi everyone – like the new look?

Yeah, I know it loads slower than a child walking to bed when there’s fireworks and pony rides outside. I can’t figure out why. It loaded so quickly when I saw other people’s versions of the template. Figures.

I’m no expert at this, so you’ll probably see some tinkering over the next week. In addition to being a Domestic Zero, I’m apparently not-so-hot in the technical field, either.

Don’t worry, I won’t be doing this for anyone else anytime soon. Because with the amount of time I’ve put into screwing around with this template, and photoshop editing, and finding a background that’s passable-but-not-quite-right, I’d probably have to charge $9,280. And that’s assuming minimum wage per hour.

So if anything looks out of whack, let me know. If you care to share thoughts, I’d love to hear them, too. But only if they’re positive, OK? This was my first attempt at template re-design, and I’d like to someday try again instead of forking over money I don’t have to someone else.



Still Here In Spirit

It doesn’t feel like Christmas without a cheesy gift, so we brought out the classic Aunt Dot gift again. It’s like she’s still here with us.

Aunt Dot’s Gift from Christina M on Vimeo.



I Happily Handed Over $34.99 For This Memory

When we received an invite for a birthday party at the Columbus Zoo, I was excited at the possibility of killing four birds with one stone. (Yeah, I’m skilled like that. Two? That’s nothing.) (And those would be proverbial birds. No real birds were harmed in the writing of this post.)

Not only would we celebrate the birthday of two friends, but we’d also be there after sunset, so we could see the Wildlights display. And we’d visit the model trains – an obsession shared by both of my girls. AND we’d see Santa, if Cordy could work up the nerve this year.

We tried to see Santa last year at the zoo, and if you don’t feel like reading the recap, I can sum up: it went poorly. Even though Cordy wanted nothing more than to meet the great giver of all things present-y and peppermint-y, she couldn’t handle the reality of meeting him live.

This year she said she was ready, and promised to sit on his lap so she could get a candy cane.

Too bad we weren’t ready for the Arctic Circle to relocate to Ohio yesterday.

Walking from the parking lot to the front of the zoo was painful. Even though we had probably the closest parking spot ever, the wind was sharp and bitterly cold. In that short walk, both girls sported bright red cheeks, and I could no longer feel my fingers.

Thankfully, the party was just inside the gate. While Cordy made a jingle bell necklace and ate cake, Aaron and I considered the idea of telling her Santa was too busy to visit the zoo this year and bailing out quickly after the party.

When we walked outside again, though, the skies had darkened and the glowing light displays surrounded us. Cordy immediately wanted to visit all of the animals in the zoo and find Santa, despite a wind chill of -10F.

We took her to the train exhibit to distract the girls while we discussed our options. We could 1. Leave and risk the disappointment of one little girl prone to tantrums or 2. Risk freezing our limbs off to go to the back of the zoo where Santa waited. With a sigh we decided to risk frostbite.

I won’t give the full details of the walk to Santa, although I can affirm that statements like, “If you want to see Santa, you need to RUN, Cordy! Santa likes little girls who can keep up!” may have been uttered. A few expletives surrounding statements like “My nose hairs are frozen” and “I think the blood is freezing in my fingers” may have been overheard as well.

After what felt like a glacial eternity, we made it to Santa, and – surprise, surprise! – there was no line! Hear that, parents? If you want to avoid the wait and have Santa all to yourself, you only need visit when it’s not safe for skin to be exposed to the frigid air!

Cordy was a bundle of excitement when she saw Santa. We wound through the path to get to him and when we reached the platform, she hesitated for a moment. Here we go again, I thought. Prepare for her to run.

But she didn’t. Instead, she nervously let him lift her onto his lap. Without waiting for an introduction or the question to be asked, she blurted out, “Santa, I want a candy cane for Christmas!” He then asked her what else she wanted for Christmas, but again she only asked for a candy cane.

I then placed Mira on Santa’s other knee, and as I predicted last year, she started to cry right away. The photographer was trying to get them to look at the camera, and so Aaron and I crouched down beside each child, Aaron trying to focus Cordy’s attention, while I attempted to calm the toddler who thought she was going to be eaten by a giant white beard.

After the snapshot, Santa tried to talk with Cordy some more, but Cordy paid no attention to him and reached for a candy cane in the basket next to him. She did her duty, and now wanted her reward. As she wandered around the platform, Santa looked at me and said with a smile, “I think I’m enjoying myself talk more than she is.” I patted Cordy on the head and replied “Focus is hard for her. But trust me – she’s happy.”

We stopped by the kiosk on the way out to view our photo. I had no plans to buy a photo, but then I saw it on the screen. It’s a memory of the first time Cordy has willingly met with Santa, and only the second time ever that all four of us have been in a photo together. (Seriously, I’m usually the one behind the camera. You’d have a hard time proving we’re a family from photographic evidence alone.)

So we bought the big photo package, with multiple pictures for family members, two photo snowflake ornaments and the silly photo snowglobe. They totally made me fall for the moment of my two girls with Santa, even though Mira was upset, even though we were all in winter parkas, even thought Santa had a fake beard, even though we weren’t all looking at the camera, even though it was painfully cold.

Cordy’s willingness to accept the situation and not freak out was impressive and showed me just how fast she’s growing up. And seeing my entire family together and (relatively) happy on that computer screen brought up a warm, happy feeling in me that dulled the sharp cold for that long walk back to the car. It was worth it.



The People Who Make Post-It Notes Will Soon Love Me

I’d guess that I’m looking forward to 2009 more than the average person. With all of the bad we’ve had this year, I’m planning to consider that big ball in Times Square on Dec. 31 my executioner’s axe, cutting off all of the frustration, the anger, the worry and the heartbreak of 2008 and leaving it behind as we embrace the new year.

Which means I’d better start working on a plan for 2009.

I’m a lousy planner, I’ll admit. Something inside of me wants desperately to be organized – always aware of everything coming up and never found scraping things together at the last minute. But no matter how much I want to be that way, I eventually go back to being the girl who flies by the seat of her (worn thrice because she forgot to do laundry) pants.

One benefit of nursing school is that it forces me to organize. We are taught to prioritize and organize our day so the insurmountable mountain of tasks is whittled down to an acceptable level without the need to stay late. Prioritizing is probably the one skill out of all of the organization skills that I’ve taken a liking to.

It’s far too easy for me to hop from one project to whatever crosses my mind next, never stopping to think about if that new task is really important enough to override other items on my to-do list. That task is soon followed by another mental burst to go do something else, often leaving task #2 unfinished. (ADD much? My doctor even agrees with me now.)

2009 will be my year of the priority list. I’ve made every attempt to not turn into my mom and aunts with their neurotic ability to make list after list for everything from groceries to gift lists to who to call. But I have to admit – lists are helpful. Less helpful, though, is a jumbled to-do list that ranks throw away the Christmas lights that don’t work higher than buy cat food so your poor pets don’t walk out on you and charge you with neglect only because I thought of it first while writing.

Hopefully keeping prioritized (maybe color coded? Hmmm…might need to consider that idea) lists will help me stay on track. And we all know I need it. Like most moms, I have a lot of different hats to wear, and each has its own set of responsibilities. I’m responsible for paying the bills, some housework, Cordy’s school notices and permission slips, my schoolwork and clinical time, doctor appts. for both kids, setting up therapy appts. for Cordy, any type of appointments for me, grocery shopping, three blogs, three cats, two kids and a partridge in a pear tree. OK, the last one isn’t true. But I do have to keep the birdfeeder filled with birdseed.

(Let’s not even begin to count things I’d like to do, such as paint some of the rooms in our house and hang shit on the walls so I won’t feel like I’m still living in my old college apartment.)

Who knows? Maybe tackling tasks in an organized manner will give me a little more time in my life? I could think of a lot of uses for a little more spare time.

I could probably make a list of all of those free time ideas, too.

This post is part of the last PBN blog blast of the year, sponsored by Big Tent. Here’s hoping we all have a more organized 2009.



Checking For Black Cats & Avoiding Ladders

Ever feel like you’re cursed? Like you passed by a penny on the ground, or broke a mirror, or walked under a ladder or stepped on a crack or any other crazy daily activity that is rumored to bring you bad luck?

I’m feeling that way right now. Friday was probably the worst day I’ve had in a long time. I first had to go to orientation for the new quarter of nursing school, where I would be meeting the person who will be in charge of my education for the last year of my program, and also meeting my clinical instructor for this quarter.

As I drove out of my neighborhood, I realized that I would get there just on time. And then I got behind a school bus. While waiting the second time the bus stopped to pick up a student (not more than 30 feet from the last stop), my car suddenly began sputtering, shaking, and jumping, with a loud noise coming from the engine. The Check Engine light began flashing quickly – not the steady hey, you might want to get this checked out sometime light, but the holy shit! critical fail! abort! abort! kind of light. I realized the car would not make it to school, so I turned around and went home to switch cars.

The switch made me about 10 minutes late for orientation. I worried about how it would look for me to be late, but that was nothing compared to when I walked in and saw all of my classmates in uniform. We’ve never had an orientation in uniform – what was going on? I took a seat in the back, and a friend turned to look at me in my t-shirt and shorts, asking “Do you notice something a little different between you and the rest of the room?” Apparently the instruction to wear our uniform was in the e-mail, but I missed it somehow.

So now not only was I late, but I had no uniform, making me truly look like the class slacker. I apologized to the orientation leader afterward, and then went to meet with my clinical instructor, who also was unhappy to see I wasn’t in uniform. Hello – meet the student who will have to prove herself more than anyone else this quarter.

When I came home later that day, I had to lay down due to the pressure building in my sinuses. I spent the weekend in agony from a sinus infection that just won’t go away. Today wasn’t much better. I may have to give in and visit a doctor tomorrow if I can’t sleep again tonight.

So seriously, am I cursed? We tried to start the car again yesterday and it still shook violently and there was a strong smell of gas. Until Friday, it didn’t have a single problem and saw a mechanic recently. It’s still sitting in the driveway, because we don’t want to pay to tow it and get it looked at if there’s a chance it’ll be too expensive to fix. (Side note: if anyone knows anything about cars, I’m open for advice. It’s a 2000 Nissan Sentra. If no one else knows, I may have to try Amelia’s suggestion of calling the Car Talk guys. I should have known that taking shop in junior high was more valuable than home ec.)

Even my mother, upon hearing the news of the car, said “You seem to have a large amount of bad luck. I don’t know why, but for the past couple of years it’s been one thing after another.” This was coming from a woman who doesn’t believe much in luck. I’m wondering if I need to find some quartz crystals and a white candle to rid myself of all of this bad luck? Or should I remind myself that adversity builds character and keeps me in a wealth of blogging topics?

(And should someone have cursed me – not that I really believe in that – they say anything bad you send out comes back to you three fold. Can’t imagine how much your life will suck soon, dude.)

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