FeeFiFoto Blog

Wordless Wednesday: Huh?

The airplane commode was too incommodious to allow me to get both of these nifty signs into the same shot.  Please forgive the fuzzy photos and allow me to narrate:

1.  Don't Drink The Water!

2.  Here's A Handy Drinking Cup!

I'm Bad -- Er -- Back

And let me just ask: Is US Airways constitutionally incapable of taking off or landing on time?

Just asking.

And one more thing.

Ed McMahon?  Farrah Fawcett?  Michael Jackson?  Billy Mays?

Can't I leave you alone for just a few days without all hell breaking loose?  You thought I didn't know, but I get the International Herald Tribune and I know how to use it.

America, you're grounded.

I Had A Point But I Forgot It: I Think It Was That I Hate Being Forgetful

Don't forget: we're still out of town. This post originally appeared in April, 2008

I feel like I forget everything.

I'm tired of being forgetful.  It's bad enough that I forget where I put things, or where I'm supposed to be, or to bring my purse when I need to buy groceries.  Sometimes I remember what I'm supposed to be doing, write it down, enter it into my computer, and then don't believe my notation because I'm convinced I must be missing something.

When I was going through fertility treatments I took a medication that really whacked me out; one day I set up a lunch date, wrote it in my calendar, contemplated the entry in befuddlement, and immediately called my friend back to ask if we'd just made plans.

Months ago I entered all of Cleo's choir performances into my calendar and then a few weeks ago read a memo about a scheduled concert that I hadn't written down.  No problem -- I bought tickets and invited some family.  Two days before the concert I discovered that I'd been correct in October when the schedule first came out: this performance involved only the older kids. Half a dozen tickets down the drain, not to mention another humiliation notch on my belt.

I'd like to be able to blame it on my kids.  I'd like to be able to claim that having them has destroyed too many of my brain cells.  I'd like to be able to assert that I'm so much busier with them around that no single person could keep track of all I have to remember.  I'd like to be able to claim that they leave the house in such disarray that nobody could find anything here.  I probably could, but it wouldn't prevent me from lambasting myself every time I left my credit card in another wallet, canceled it for the fifty-second time, and then found it exactly where I'd left it.

I've started making calendar entries with side notations like: "Yes, really -- confirmed April 15, 2008".

You won't believe what I found while searching for ways to jog my memory on the web.  Introducing: The Remember Ring from Uncrate.com.  It's battery operated and preprogrammed to remember your special events and remind you subtly by heating up to 120 degrees for 10 seconds every hour starting 24 hours before the event you usually forget.

(July 14 is Bastille Day, in case you forgot.)

This leads me to all sorts of memory-related questions:

1. Can I program the ring to remind me that this is the day the kids stay after school for baseball practice?
2. Can I program it to remind me of every single birthday, anniversary, performance and orthodontist appointment on my calendar? Or do I need a separate ring for each appointment?
3. What's to prevent me from forgetting why the blasted ring is heating up and hurting my hand and just chucking it in the trash?

Why is it so easy to forget stuff?

Set your magic ring to remind you that Mother's Day is May 11 and there's still plenty of time to visit FeeFiFoto and design personalized photo jewelry (sorry, no rings, but we do have charming charms) for Mom, Grandma, Auntie, Sister, Daughter, Granddaughter, Teacher ... well, you get the idea.  If you're forgetful, design a calendar with all your favorite photos and enter special dates.

Really, Dad, We Love You. Honest.: Dads Seem To Take Second Place To Moms

Happy Father's Day. We're still away but I'm reprinting this post that appeared a few weeks BEFORe Father's Day last year. Why don't football players ever shout "Hi Dad!" into the camera?

Search "Mothers Day Gift" in Technorati and, as of today, two weeks AFTER Mother's Day 2008, you'll find the phrase in nearly 20,000 blog posts with any level of authority.

Search "Fathers Day Gift" and, as of today, three weeks BEFORE Father's Day 2008, you'll find the phrase in just short of 10,000 blog posts.

**As an interesting side note, if you check these same terms in Technorati this year, the number of posts is about half of the total of a year ago.

No Time Mom lists all of three contests or giveaways for Father's Day.
According to AOL Money & Finance:

"Historically, more collect phone calls are made on Father's Day than on any other day of the year. While Mother's Day is the biggest holiday for phone calls in general, it's dads who get the top honor of their progeny sticking them with the bill for the call."

Toria at Losing Pounds.org writes:    

"When it comes to buying gifts, I can buy for the females in my life all day long…mum, sister in law, friends…a walk in the park, but when it comes to the men it’s a different matter entirely - my dad and brother I find especially difficult because neither seem to have any idea themselves what they want!"

Isn't it funny how we trip over ourselves to offer Mother's Day gift suggestions, yet the selection of material regarding Father's Day gifts is, shall we say, pallid?  Maybe other fathers seem so macho that we believe they need gifts reeking of testosterone and immaturity like an enormous remote control or personalized beer. 

But my father, The Man From D.A.D., loves personal and intimate gifts. We made him a needlepoint belt with all the kids' names, which he's been wearing proudly for eight years; for all we know he thinks it's hideous but he'd never say so and it's practically the only belt he wears. His book shelves are loaded with my pottery, ranging in quality from the ridiculous to the sublime, including a bowl embossed with a poem Cleo wrote (guess that makes it poetry pottery). Robey planted an oak twig last year which The Man From D.A.D. protects from mowing with its own fence, and monitors daily.

Now, we could give the high tech gifts and sometimes we do, but I don't think that's as much of a sign of fatherly worth and love as something from the heart rather than the wallet.  And maybe our father is unusually sentimental so that he seriously treasures the personal mementos we regularly supply, but I doubt it.  I think that many dads would and should be thrilled to receive something personalized from their kids or grandchildren.

This year we're going to have FeeFiFoto print a picture of the grandchildren on a ceramic tile that will blend perfectly with all the other family-oriented memorabilia in his office.  He'll love it.

What are you doing for Father's Day?

Open Your Wallet And Give

We're on vacation for a couple of weeks and internet will be intermittent, so I'm offering up some older posts I hope you'll enjoy.  This one's from November, 2007.

See this man?  His name is Catalino Tapia.  He's a 63-year-old gardener.  He lives in Redwood City, CA and works maintaining trees and gardens in San Francisco.

He's also a philanthropist.  Read about him here:

"Catalino Tapia [came] from Mexico ... 40 years ago with a sixth-grade education and only $6 ... He became a legal resident and raised a family by working in a donut shop, a machine shop and then plant nurseries, before starting his own gardening business...

Tapia ... always had his eyes on the future…Even before his first child was born ... he was saving money for them to go to school.

Tapia's youngest son attended UCLA and then ... the University of California - Berkeley Law School. He's now a lawyer in Los Angeles...

Tapia wanted to do something to help the less-fortunate children in his community ... His son suggested Tapia start a foundation that would give scholarships to students ...

Rules To Remember For Shopping Online

Still on vacation. This one came after the Christmas season, but it's relevant any time of year.

Ways to make online shopping less stressful

In case you've blocked it from your memory, we just emerged from a heavy shopping season (Christmas, remember?) and as a relatively new retailer I noticed patterns in some of the ways customers get themselves into trouble.  Here is a list of things to remember to make your online shopping experience more satisfying.

1.    Consider shipping parameters.  This is a big one, especially when you get close to your deadline.  If you absolutely positively must have it before Christmas, or Valentine's Day, or Mother's Day, or a birthday, don't put blind faith in any LMNOP shipper because even though they won't admit it, they're all at the mercy of weather, traffic and any number of other possible interferences.  If there's any question in your mind about whether your package will show up on time, opt for expedited shipping.

2.    Check rules for returns.  Internet shopping is incredibly convenient, but there's not always as much leeway as you might think.  If you're buying from a small seller or on eBay, chances are your ability to return your purchase will be limited.  If you're buying something pseudo-perishable like electronics or seasonal items, you may be subject to restocking fees or strict time limitations.  I bought my brother-in-law a camera from 42nd Street Photo, a huge company, and ended up unable to exchange it because their time limit had passed by the time I'd given it to him.

3.    Check your work.  If you're personalizing something, proofread your lettering or have someone proofread for you.  This seems to be a running theme for me.  Some customers place orders using misspelled names or the wrong year, and then insist I intervene and fix their mistakes.  As I used to tell my clients when I had a business writing resumes, put your work down (save it first!) for at least a few minutes, and then check it one more time, reading from bottom to top and right to left so it doesn't make any sense; you're more likely to catch mistakes this way because you're looking at individual words instead of scanning phrases or sentences.

4.    Bookmark the site you're using so you can find it the next time you need it. Naturally, this would be to my benefit, but it will help you in the long run too.  If you visited FeeFiFoto last year to design gift calendars but you can't remember the name, having it bookmarked means you won't have to enter all your photos, preferences and information from scratch.

5.    Read and believe instructions.   We put photos on porcelain Christmas ornaments.  You upload your picture, view a mockup of the ornament, move or crop the photo, enter a caption, and place your order.  The space where the photo goes is less than three inches wide on any type of ornament.  My product descriptions warn of the size limitations; so do the FAQs.  Yet some customers persist in attempting to fit a full panoramic photo of their visit to the Grand Canyon, or a group portrait of a family of twelve, and then complain that the photo is too small or the caption is encroaching on someone's hair.

Which leads me to my next point:

6.   Don't get cute.  Ask questions before buying.  I've had more than one customer call after they've already placed the order to inquire casually if something they tried to do on their order will work.  That's the same as throwing away someone's lunch and then asking: "Were you finished with that?"  Funny in sitcoms -- in real life, not so much.  A customer created a caption in her word processor using her own exotic font, and then copied and pasted it into the caption space in our product design wizard.  When our system defaulted to a generic font because she hadn't chosen from our prescribed list, and showed it on her mockup, she ordered the object anyway and then complained that it didn't come out the way she wanted it.

7.    Read FAQs and product descriptions.  Granted, understanding some sites' FAQs can be as challenging as reading Faulkner.  In Russian.  Printed on a postage stamp.  Still, in case of any questions or doubts, check FAQs before giving up or winging it.  I've spent many hours revamping my site's FAQs to cover every situation I can think of that has come up or might come up in the future.

Still On Vacation And Still Just As Lazy. This post originally appeared in January of 2008.

8.    Follow rules.  It's surprising how many customers will place an order in the hopes that what they read on my site is wrong.  The simplest example is when a customer needs a gift by a specific time, and ignores my clear warning to allow a minimum of three business days for manufacturing before the item is even shipped.  If you read it on my site, believe it.

9.   This space intentionally left blank.  Because I needed thirteen things.

10.    Be reasonable.  Is it really necessary to have exactly 11.75 point type on your item?

11.    Be prepared to accept consequences.  If instructions say that personalized items are not returnable except due to a manufacturing flaw, don't call me and insist that I allow a return anyway.

12.    Know and use a really good tailor.  Okay, this has almost nothing to do with online shopping but it's still really good advice.  If you find some astonishingly lustworthy bargain on Bluefly.com but it needs a little alteration, you'll be good to go.

13.    Be friendly and patient -- the seller is not your enemy.  It's one thing to scream bloody murder at Sprint for having horrible customer service and making it virtually impossible to reach a real person in less time than it takes to bake a potato in a toaster oven.  It's another thing to excoriate a small business owner who's doing the best she can.  If you have a problem, give me a chance to fix it before condemning me to life in perdition.

What have you learned about shopping online?

Visit FeeFiFoto for personalized photo shopping totes.

Vacation Homework

We're leaving for a couple of weeks and internet will be intermittent, so I'm offering up some older posts I hope you'll enjoy.  This one's from November, 2007.

I’d like to welcome today’s guest poster.  He’s a retired executive who spends much of his days taking and teaching literature classes, playing chess with friends and grandchildren, and helping his daughter renovate a seriously intractable website.  Allow me to introduce: Dad.

::::raucous applause and wolf whistles:::: Thank you.  Thank you very much.

Two days of hard work finally paid off as I browsed through memories of our 2007 Mediterranean Cruise. After purging nearly 200 duplications (darn that crazy computer) I had 300 images to rotate, categorize and admire. What a pleasure it is to share great art, scenery, architecture and experiences with children and grandchildren.  It’s one thing to see these sights through my own eyes, and something profound and completely different seeing them through the eyes of five kids ranging in age from 7 to 17.  And what an unexpected surprise: 10 people traveling together, eating together, touring together, and no fistfights serious enough to warrant summoning local authorities.

I’m reminded again why pictures are so important, and how much fun it is to share.  Even my wife, Our Lady Of Perpetual Ants In The Pants, enjoyed watching the photos in a slide show and savoring with me the memories of a wonderful vacation.

Still, there had to be some wrench in the ointment, or fly in the works, or whatever.  My computer spewed spite, most likely because it had been infiltrated by the evil villain, My Pictures.  In an effort to ease some of the pressure I broke out the stack of DVDs I’d bought so optimistically a year ago when my current computer was new.  Such mischief it wrought!  After approximately 15 interactive email conversations with a computer friend, I finally navigated around all the dastardly glitches and created my first-ever photo DVD.  My friend gently explained that my mistake might have been instructing the computer to: “move the %*?$# pictures to the %*?$# disk, you idiot.” 

In any case, despite the valuable learning experience of creating photo DVDs, I’m going to pack up my pictures—all 4 gigabytes and 3000+ images—and send them to FeeFiFoto where I can share them with all my friends. I might even put a picture of my intractable computer on a Photo Throw to cover it up the next time it defies me.

Manners Versus Mushrooms: What To Do When A Kind Hearted Human Being Offers You Something That Makes You Cringe

The cough.  The COUGH.  It's getting better but it simply won't go away, and I'm beginning to alarm perfect strangers.  It's worst by the end of the day, what with all the talking and umpiring of baseball games and Marine chanting I've been doing (I don't know but I've been told!! / I don't know but I've been told!! / I thought this was just a cold!! / I thought this was just a cold!!) but try as I might, I just can't seem to stop hollering cooing gently at my kids, and I pay for it by nightfall. 

Tonight the kids and I dined at a Chinese restaurant with my parents.  The coughing, which had been minimal most of the day, escalated rapidly, and by the time our food was delivered I was hacking and choking like a first time smoker.  After delivering our five different varieties of stir-fried chicken (we're an imaginative bunch), the waitress returned with a glass full of lukewarm brown liquid -- some type of powerful Chinese tea ("Tea.  It's only tea.  Nothing else -- just Chinese tea") that she swore would cure anything from a monstrous cough to a severed finger to homesickness.

I examined it.  I swirled the glass and sniffed the contents; it smelled earthy but not unduly alarming.  I sipped it: earthy but not unduly alarming.  I shrugged and drank.

At this point I must commend my mother for her reaction to this scene.  She didn't blink, or flinch, or protest my sampling this possibly lethal potion; rather, she maintained a gracious and grateful smile.  My conclusion is that she's either become considerably more laid back in recent years, or I'm not on her familial alarm radar because I'm not a grandchild. 

I prefer to believe she's mellowing.

Once I'd made my way through about two thirds of the glass's contents, still coughing copiously, the waitress came back with a quart container of tea for me to take home, promising she'd make me more if I needed it.  I asked again if it was really just tea and she smiled broadly and declared: "Yes, just tea.  It's a mushroom tea -- very beneficial.  Make your cough go away."

Mushroom.  Tea.

Mushrooms.

I don't like mushrooms. I'm afraid of mushrooms. They're squishy.  They're slippery.  They grow underground, but they're not yummy potatoes.

They're creepy and they're kooky... mysterious and spooky... they're altogether ooky...

I've never willingly or knowingly consumed a mushroom in any form.  In restaurants I always (politely) insist that mushrooms be withheld from my meal, with an implied threat that I might run screaming from the room if I find one.

But.  Turning my nose up at the mushroom tea would have been as hurtful as refusing to enjoy the Mother's Day breakfast in bed mushy omelet, and for the same reason: I'm constitutionally unable to deny the hopeful puppy expression that comes with that type of offering.

So I guzzled the tea, thanked the waitress profusely, and toted home my container of mushroom tea.  It's sitting on the kitchen counter right now.  Looking at me.  Daring me.

Eek.

Don't Know What I've Done To Deserve This

I've been highlighted by FishHawk.  Must be  slow news day ;).  Seriously, thanks FH.

Oh, and by the way -- as long as I'm here, Happy 3d Birthday Miss Puppy.  We're glad you're part of our family.

Farewell, Entrecard

For a year Entrecard did really well for me.  I found an armload of blogs I like reading and I'm still reading them. So thanks, Entrecard, for that.

Watching Baseball

Robespierre (watching a baseball game):  "Aw.  Carpenter was throwing a perfect game and now it's ruined."

Me:  "What a shame.  What's the inning?"

Robespierre:  "Second."

Me:  "..."

Robespierre Has A Job

Robey's school provides each student with a laptop to use through the academic year.  Every year the teachers and administrators get new laptops, and theirs from the previous year are passed on to the seniors, who pass theirs on to the juniors, all the way down to the sixth graders, whose laptops are held together with duct tape and bungee cords.

During the summer break the IT people (yes, the school has its own IT staff, but these days most schools probably do) run diagnostics on each laptop and load new software.  What with new computers coming in and old ones going out, 900 laptops will need to be assessed and prepared by the end of the summer.  The school offers internships, some paid but mostly volunteer, to any students who care to participate, and Robey applied.  Since his position is volunteer, he can come and go as he likes.  He'll be there every day this week, then we leave for a trip, and after we return he'll work another two weeks until leaving for a month of camp.

I'm proud of him for his motivation and willingness to work.  In addition to the experience and goodwill he'll accumulate, he'll have a tidy resume decoration, which never hurts.

No humor or witty conclusion today -- just pride for my guy.

Except: I forgot the meaning of "IT" and had to look it up.

I May Not Be The Soccer Mom, But I'm Okay With Being The Running Mom

Or, to put it more precisely, the Mom of a Runner.

Last year I described my deplorable lack of enthusiasm at watching my kids participate in sporting events.  You can't really blame me.  I was never a star at anything that could remotely be described as a sport, unless you count 1970s-sitcom-theme-song-memorization, in which I would have been a medal winner.  I'll never forget one gym class when I was in seventh grade, on a day when we had a substitute teacher.  We did whatever activity we were doing at the time and at the end of the class the teacher gathered everyone into a circle, pointed at me and commanded: "You.  Do what you were doing before."  So I did whatever it was, and then she turned to the class and warned: "Did everyone see what she just did?  Don't anybody do that."  Consequently, although this was by no means the only incident (merely the most memorable and insulting), I hate exercise, and will do it only under the most perfect of circumstances.

 

In addition, I don't care if my kids are good at it, although I encourage them to do something to keep themselves healthy.  Robespierre has tried basketball, soccer, baseball, wrestling, cross country and Tae Kwon Doe, with varying levels of success but a reliably high level of enthusiasm.  Cupcake has tried a similar selection of sports, frequently exhibiting a less stellar level of enthusiasm.

But this spring she discovered running, through a national program called "Girls on the Run," which is:

"a non-profit prevention program that encourages preteen girls to develop self-respect and healthy lifestyles through running. Our curricula address all aspects of girls' development - their physical, emotional, mental, social and spiritual well-being"

Most of the girls in her school, grades 1 through 6, participated this spring, training twice a week with a group of teachers, moms and running buddies, culminating in a 5K run about three weeks ago.  Not only did she complete the run, but she liked it, and then expressed interest in doing another.  Saturday she did it again -- a 5K run sponsored by our city's indisputably spectacular science center.  She completed the run with a big smile on her face, and expressed interest in doing more.

I'd suspected she'd enjoy running, since it's the kind of activity where you mostly compete against yourself.  There's no concern about who gets more passes, or who makes more baskets or goals.  At nine years old, as long as you do better than, or come close to, your previous time, you're in a good place.

Maybe I'll even consider running with her.

Nah.

I Can't Stop: This Cough Is Making Me Crazy

• I've had this (cough cough) cough for more than a week (cough).  I think it's the result of allergies because otherwise I feel fine (coughcough). 
• It gets worse by the (C.O.U.G.H.), by the end of the day, especially (kaff kaff) if I've done too much talking. 
• It's been difficult (kawfkawfkawf) to get to sleep because I can't stop COUGH COUGH COUGHING. 
• I've been suspended from my weekly volunteer job helping my friend care for her delectable (cough) babies.  I tried to disguise my voice on the phone (coff coff) but she caught on and took away my cuddling privileges. 
• My kids think I'm about to keel over whenever I begin hacking (hack hack HACK). 
• Nothing makes it go away -- not drinking water or sucking hard candies or eating ice cream, but I keep trying -- especially the ice cream. 
• My head hurts. 
• I can't sneak up on anyone.

Can anyone help me get rid of this horrible coughin' ?

Got the picture here.

Wordless Wednesday: Why Are So Many People Searching For Oompa Loompas?

And why are they finding me?

 

We Didn't Get The Memo: Vacation Is Supposed to Include Relaxation

Vacation: a period of suspension of work, study, or other activity, usually used for rest, recreation, or travel; recess or holiday.

    Dictionary.com

Here's how we spent Monday, the first full day off school for the summer:

• Drop the pups off at day care for a bath, fluff and nail trim.
• Dentist appointment for the kids.  Cupcake's allowed to eat again at 10:15, so she holds my cell phone and announces the passing of each minute and second until precisely then.
• Bank deposit: boring
• Bed, Bath, Kitchen, Back-to-School and Plastic-Stuff-by-the-Register Store: Blankets for Cupcake to take to camp
• Military Surplus Store: We buy everything you could imagine might be useful or lustworthy for a nine-year-old and a 12-year-old to bring to a month of summer camp, including sleeping bag thingies, hiking socks, folding chair thingies, backpacks, wetpacks, and even freeze dried ice cream, because everyone has to try it once even though it reminds one of chewing Styrofoam.  We gingerly give a wide berth to guns; enormous and toothy knives; dead animal innards-taker-outers; and various devices intended to help you relieve yourself and then hide the evidence in the wilderness.  Robespierre insists he needs a backpack with a built in drinking pouch, so he won't strain himself by turning around to grab a water bottle while hiking or canoeing.

Image here

For all I know he's totally scamming me, but since I don't camp I have little choice other than to go along with whatever he says he MUST have.  Some of these things I know we've bought before; when I ask why we're buying them again I get varying answers:

• "I lost it."  Translation: It's not cool
• "I never had one."  Translation: I did but it wasn't cool
• "I broke it."  Translation: It's not cool
• "The old one's not good enough."  Translation: It's not cool
• "I outgrew it."  Translation: Well, actually this one's probably true

Are you keeping track?

• LUNCH BREAK
• Mart The Size Of a Mall : We buy soap, shampoo, toothpaste (but not toothbrushes, thank goodness, since we got those from the dentist and think of all the money we've saved because toothbrushes sure are costly.  Yeehah.)  Oh, and at last, something for me: Worchestershire Sauce!
• They Call It A Club So You'll Feel Like You're Part Of An Exclusive Group: Industrial size laundry detergent and industrial size fruit snacks
• SNACK TIME: Snow cones to protect us from brain damage while driving around town in 96^o heat.

Are we there yet?

• Grocery Store: We return the Famous Major League Baseball Team throw rug that turned Robespierre's feet and bathroom floor red after one use, causing him mental anguish that he'd die of lead poisoning because the rug was made in China.
• Big Deal Camping and Sporting Store: We pick up incomprehensibly costly hiking boots for Robey, who now wears adult sized shoes, and isn't that appalling simply marvelous?  Cupcake still fits into the way less expensive youth sizes, which makes her my favorite child.
• Yet Another Superstore to pick up stationery for Cupcake (Robespierre intends to use notebook paper sealed with duct tape), since the stationery she used last year came from here, and therefore there could not possibly be any place on the planet with better note cards.
• Doggie Day Care so as to close the loop and pick up Miss Puppy and Little Miss, shorn and manicured for the summer.

And here's the aftermath:

I swear it was nearly empty when we set out at 9:00 a.m.