FeeFiFoto Blog

Public Service Announcement: How (Or Why) To Clean Your Refrigerator

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STEP ONE
Prepare Jello in a large bowl according to package directions.

STEP TWO
Place bowl on a shelf in the refrigerator.

STEP THREE
Slam refrigerator door, causing Jello to slosh liberally.

STEP FOUR
Discover Jello puddles in refrigerator drawers.

STEP FIVE
Spend the next hour removing, washing, drying and replacing refrigerator drawers and shelves.

More Travel Excitement

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Let's see -- where were we?  Something about traveling, Italy, noses...

Ah yes -- nosebleeds on parade.

Cupcake's nose can erupt like Mount Etna if you just look at it; it's a special power she has that we try to devote only to good.  So when my father hugged her and inadvertently touched her nose, the gushing recommenced. 

Now That I Think About It, The Nonstop Coughing Wasn't So Bad: Travel Crises

Some kids are chess masters.  Some excel at skateboarding, music, basketball or writing.

My kids are World Class Nosebleeders.

There are clear advantages to being the parent of an experienced nosebleeder.  Such as...

for example...

ummm...

Wait!  I know!

If someone you're with has a nosebleed, you'll know exactly what to do. 

Ta da!

A few years ago I had their noses cauterized.  I had to; our carpets gave the impression that our hobby was axe murdering.  Both have had to have the procedure repeated, and Cupcake more than once.  I try to remember to have them slosh Vaseline in their noses, with "try" being the operative word.

So we're on a plane to Rome two weeks ago. The flight is long, the plane cramped and inhospitable.  Five hours into the flight, Cupcake sneezes.

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.

Then What Happened? Klutziness And Mudpies Don't Mix

Clues, Round I

• It's been raining here for two days.
• Our new puppy weighs about 18 pounds, on her way to a maximum of about 30.
• Little Miss is more attached to me so far than to either of the kids.
• The bars of our fence are set approximately six inches apart.
• Our yard is trying to revert to its natural state; clover, moss, ferns, hostas and liriope are gradually filling in some of the mud patches.
• The house is well lit, but the yard is not.
• Miss Puppy's hobby is digging for moles.
• Robespierre sometimes frequently usually lets his impulses get the better of him.
• Robey never wants to go to bed.
• I write a blog.

Have you figured out what happened yet?  Anyone?  No?

Shlepping Kids

Originally published October 21, 2007

Jane at BabySquared writes about intentionally dehydrating herself before a long drive with her twin pre-toddlers so she wouldn't have to stop for a bathroom break on the way:

"This was the first time I've attempted a road trip of any length alone with the girls... I was careful not to drink too much water before I left, and though I would have liked a cup of coffee for the road, it was just too risky. I didn't bring a stroller, which meant that there was pretty much no way I could have stopped to go to the bathroom... I tried to imagine what I would do if things got really, really desperate. I decided that I could:

1.) Pull up close to a gas station with a convenience store, look inside to see if there was a sane-looking woman working there and, if there was, run in and beg her to go out and keep an eye on the girls while I peed. (No offense, guys, but it just wouldn't be cool to ask some random man to watch my children. Probably not so cool to ask a random woman either, but if I had no other choice....)

Just A Splash Of Teriyaki, Please: My Kids Are As Klutzy As I Am

Scene 1: Robespierre, he of the Hollow Leg, enters the kitchen in search of many carbohydrates.  Snatching open the pantry door, he spies...

a brand new bottle of Teriyaki sauce hurtling inexorably to its doom at the hands of Evil Gravity, abetted by Tile Floor, Gravity's henchman.

Scene 2 (post apocalypse): Robespierre, he of the Short Attention Span, picks up most of the large pieces of glass and uses the Swiffer to sop up spread around the entire contents of the now defunct bottle of Teriyaki sauce.

Scene 3:  Robespierre's mother, she of the Eagle Eyes Assisted By Bifocals, enters the kitchen and instructs that Robespierre clean the floor again, this time with a damp towel.

Hello? Tech Support?

On one hand...

It took a week, plus three hours on the phone today, to cajole my All-In-One printer/scanner to communicate with my laptop.  The process included:

• Half a dozen online chat sessions with various HP customer service representatives
• No fewer than 4 (four) software download/uninstall/reinstall sessions
• The disabling of all firewalls and defenses
• Being hung up on (accidentally, but still annoyingly) twice, and
• Two 1.5 hour phone conversations with today's tech support rep (Rusty?  Rudy?  Whozie Poozie?) who took control of the laptop and fixed everything step by step

On the other hand...

I have this nifty cordless headset that allows me to wander around the house and yard unencumbered while carrying on a telephone conversation, thus while Rusty/Rudy/Whozie Poozie was lurking around my computer I:

• made and ate lunch
• tidied my office
• did some dishes, and
• took out the recycling

If he hadn't been in control of my computer I probably would have dropped 300 Entrecards too.

Thursday Thirteen: Don't Do Any Of These Things

• Flush "flushable" wipes.  Yeah -- they say they are, but they're not, not really.  They don't decompose and they clog up the pipes and then the plumber has to come out and snake out the pipes and it's costly and ugly, and just don't.

• Throw chunks of meat down the garbage disposal.  Remember not throwing in celery because the strings will tangle the disposer?  Meat works the same way, and this type of clog always seems to happen at 10:30 pm when you're just about ready to go to bed but you decide to finish up the last of those dishes so you can wake up in the morning to a tidy kitchen so you throw the last questionable leftover food down the sink and run the disposer and then spend the next two hours cranking that little unclogging thing under the machine and sticking your hand down the sink hoping the disposal doesn't spontaneously turn itself on and induct you into the "Sound of One Hand Clapping Society", and then bailing out as much water as you can get and squishing it into a bucket and finally going to bed and lying awake for another hour seething with the frustration of having tried something you knew had no possibility of turning out well, so just don't.

Maybe It Would Be Easier Just To Use Flashlights

I love shopping online. Comparison shopping without having to leave the house is fun. Opening packages is fun. Finding bargains and unique items is fun. Shopping online is like being in a candy store but better because you're not face to face with the Candy Man, who frankly is creepy.

Photo thanks to Answers.com

It's all fun, fun, fun until ...

Prospecting for light bulbs online is not fun. It's not interesting. It's not fulfilling. Opening boxes of light bulbs isn't fun or interesting either. It's not at all like being in a candy store. Shopping for light bulbs online involves a lot of trudging and climbing to measure bulbs to see if they'll fit inside the fixtures, trying to figure out what wattage will give the least eyestrain, which is good, and which will blow up the house, which could be bad. Looking for light bulbs online means trying to distinguish between different brands that seem to have no distinguishing characteristics other than subtly different brand names.

Turns out shopping for light bulbs is kind of like shopping for mattresses. Each store has its own brand names and descriptions that mean nothing to the consumer. The products change at will, so even though you think you know exactly what you need you never really know, because this year the same product has a new package and a new name. I now have a Texan Light Bulb Consultant named Tommy, who helps me flounder around his web site and my house as I struggle to identify the precise combination of wattage and voltage and fluorescence versus incandescence and lumens and frostiness and base size. Tommy also laughs at my jokes and encourages me to call back any time just to talk, which makes the fact that he lives in Texas comforting, although he does have easy access to my address so I'm probably doomed if Tommy goes postal someday.

For more on my lighting odyssey, click here and here.

Making The Transition From Incandescent To Fluorescent

When we last saw our hero she was explaining the fundamental differences between incandescent lighting and fluorescent lighting.  Let's continue our discussion, already in progress.

I started buying compact fluorescent bulbs about a year ago.  When I first saw compact fluorescents in the 1990s they were tall and square and didn't fit most lamps or fixtures; now you can even get floodlights with the twisty stuff inside the globe, as well as chandelier flame bulbs.  They take a moment to warm up after they're switched on; as soon as they're running at full force they give off as much light as incandescent bulbs but with much less generation of heat and usage of electricity.  They're way more expensive than comparable incandescent bulbs but they're supposed to last up to seven years, as opposed to the approximately 1000 hours alloted to typical incandescent bulbs, except for the Centennial Light.

Am I Starting To Have One Of Those Days?

 

Do you ever absentmindedly reach for the freezer door and wonder what you were looking for and then remember it was the stapler that lives in the drawer and not the freezer?

Yeah, me neither.

Jet Lag + Muscle Relaxers = ZZZZZ

Vacations -- rarely restful.

We're back and I fully intend to relate some of our travel stories (sorry -- no passport hijinks this time) as soon as I recover from ... zzz ...

Oops - sorry.  Must have dozed off for a moment.

Anyway, there's lots to tell, involving Rolls Royces, the Rosetta Stone, Her Dead Father, Neil Diamond, Princess Diana, Nelson Mandela, security for the Magna Carta, Oprah Winfrey, treacle and Hugh Grant.

Were you aware that, among the alternatives to hijinks suggested by  spell check are: methinks, Nijinsky, and blinks's?  Were you also aware that I didn't know blinks's was even a legitimate word?

The Passport Catastrophe Takes Its Show On The Road

I wrote this post and the two preceding it just after returning from a family cruise a year ago.  Enjoy while I'm away.

My flight left at 6:30 a.m. I'm not a morning person under the best of circumstances, but having to be on the road so early as a result of my own carelessness amplified my distress exponentially.

I landed in Chicago by 7:30 and had so much time before my 11:00 appointment that I decided to take the train instead of a taxi. Arriving at the Federal Building by 8:30, I found -- ruh roh -- dozens hundreds of people waiting for passports. So much for a leisurely breakfast and newspaper before my appointment: I joined the huddled masses.

The Passport Catastrophe Continues

More about my June 2007 relaxing vacation.

Sadly appropriate graphic from Savage Chickens

After clearing my calendar to allow myself ample time to quake violently for approximately the next 48 years hours, I converted to crisis mode. Luckily, when you come from a family where everyone wants to be boss, your DNA is wired to allow you to multitask expedited disaster management and bitter self castigation.

Phase One: Can You Travel With An Expired Passport?

Answer: Maybe if you're George Bush but not if you're me.  I wrote this post and the two following it just after returning from a family cruise a year ago.  Enjoy while I'm away.

Click here for information on passports, passport expiration and passport renewal.

Image from Larvatus Prodeo

My mother, the World's Most Organized Human, planned this trip for a year. She arranged everything, including a small fleet of private buses in various cities to allow our entire family to see what we wanted when we wanted to see it without having to rely on excursions planned by the cruise line.

Every few days she'd bombard me with offer updates; usually I'd zone out, secure in the knowledge that the World's Most Organized Human takes care of everything.

Except my passport.

Do You Know How Hard It Is

to blog when two kids are hanging from your belt taking turns insisting Mom ... MOM ... MOM!!! ?

Well, okay -- you probably do.  And this is why I've been blogging so intermittently lately.

Well, take heart my loyal readers, all two million of you.  This week I'm leaving town so I won't be blogging at all.

Until my return I've made arrangements to repost three of my favorite posts from last year, about what happens when someone with bubbles in the brain attempts to leave the country.  Find them here, here and here.

Reading Instructions Has Its Distinct Advantages

Note to Self:

In most cases, when the package says "INSTANT," this usually indicates that the pudding mix doesn't need to be cooked.

Thanks for listening.

She Flies Through The Air As She Falls Off Her Chair

Remember how you could balance all kinds of stuff on the handles of the umbrella stroller so you wouldn't have to carry your purse or diaper bag or shopping bags while wheeling Mr. or Ms. Precious Toddler through the mall?  And remember how the overburdened and unbalanced stroller would tumble backwards the instant Mr. or Ms. PT bolted for the nearest toy store?  Well, apparently coffee shop chairs are subject to the same gravitational laws as umbrella strollers.  So guess what a coffee shop chair does when you balance your purse on its back and then stand up to plug in your computer?  It tumbles backwards.

So, in short order, do you.  Or in this case, me.

ow ow ow ow ow

I've always depended on the kindness of strangers.  Several people rushed to pick me up and dust me off.  With what paltry dignity I could muster I assured all witnesses that I was perfectly fine, as I plunked myself gingerly deposited myself in my chair and turned to my computer as if my life depended on it and my tailbone were not throbbing so violently that I could almost hear it.

That was four days ago.  Standing, sitting, walking, bending, lying down:  ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch.  Sneezing: OUCH.

How do football players do it?

Shlepping Kids

Jane at BabySquared writes about intentionally dehydrating herself before a long drive with her twin pre-toddlers so she wouldn't have to stop for a bathroom break on the way:

"This was the first time I've attempted a road trip of any length alone with the girls... I was careful not to drink too much water before I left, and though I would have liked a cup of coffee for the road, it was just too risky. I didn't bring a stroller, which meant that there was pretty much no way I could have stopped to go to the bathroom... I tried to imagine what I would do if things got really, really desperate. I decided that I could:

1.) Pull up close to a gas station with a convenience store, look inside to see if there was a sane-looking woman working there and, if there was, run in and beg her to go out and keep an eye on the girls while I peed. (No offense, guys, but it just wouldn't be cool to ask some random man to watch my children. Probably not so cool to ask a random woman either, but if I had no other choice....)