Snapping out of it, because come on

It has been a WEEK. Work is super hectic, primarily because one of my best employees gave her notice on Monday and after I finished weeping over the loss, I've been scrambling desperately to replace her. We were supposed to be doing our annual family photos this weekend, but a miscommunication with our photographer led to them being rescheduled to next week, which is fine, really, but frustrating as I've been preparing and also am thinking the leaf colors won't be quite as good a week later, but so it goes. I have been having repeated frustrations trying to schedule a play date with one of Callum's best friends from school ("Davey" from this post), which still hasn't happened after four attempts spanning more than a month. Annika has been fighting bedtime with me for the last few days, with incredibly aggravating and escalating stalling attempts, though thankfully she doesn't seem to do this with Torsten so... guess who's in charge of bedtime now? Small mercies, I guess.

Anyway, it's only Thursday and I'm basically here flailing about and crying uncle because I'm afraid of what else the last couple days of this week might throw at us. But instead of dwelling, I'm trying to take refuge in good/small things, because otherwise, bleh. So, here's my "snap out of it, self" bulleted list:

• After an unseasonably warm September and first half of October (we were still running the air conditioning! Regularly!), the weather has finally turned over the last couple days. Highs below 50 yesterday and today, lots of rain (always good in a semi-arid climate, plus what's rain in Denver is snow in the mountains and that's good for ski tourism), and tomorrow the sun returns but the weather will remain cooler and fall-like. Yay! Summer was lovely, and very practical with kids, but I'm ready for something different.
• I've been focusing on my fitness for the last few months, and I'm seeing results, both in terms of weight/clothing size and in terms of stamina at the gym (getting to higher levels on the machines while maintaining the same heart rate). That is very moralizing, and also right now I'm wearing smaller pants, and that's very moralizing too.
• We are heading into a spate of celebrations/occasions... first Halloween, of course, and then our wedding anniversary is November 1, Annika's birthday is November 2, and Torsten's birthday is November 7, so that's honestly probably the craziest week of the year for us (plus the birthday of one of Callum's best friends from his old school is November 3 so that throws an extra party into the mix for us that week). Lots of stuff to plan and coordinate, but also: birthdays! Anniversaries! Kid-adored holidays! All good things. We will definitely be going low-key on the celebrations for all of the above, but it will be a fun week for sure.
• Per the above, the week of craziness always feels like the kickoff to the holiday season for me, because once it wraps, it's almost Thanksgiving. And I do love the holiday season. I actually really like winter in Colorado, because even though it's cold and snowy, the cold isn't enduring, and neither is the grayness--we get lots of sun, even in winter. So, bring it on. (Famous last words?)
• Also per the above, we have so many toys already (this is a real second child advantage--access to all the cool toys at a much younger age) that we are keeping it very limited for Annika's birthday presents. In fact, we're only planning to give her one, but it is a splurge: an American Girl Bitty Baby. I am super excited. I'm leaning toward getting the one with red hair and hazel eyes because it's surprisingly rare to find a red-haired doll that doesn't look comical, but also would love to get something a little more diverse, so... am torn, basically. But don't worry: the outfit will definitely be purple.

Hey, wow, just writing out that list has made me feel better. Catharsis! I have it.

Off to Germany!

I swear I haven't given up on my rediscovered love of blogging--but we are off to Germany for a couple weeks so it will be quiet around here while Montana and our house sitter mind the fort. I swear I'll pick up where I left off when we get back! In the meantime, please wish us luck as we prepare to transport two small children across the ocean.

Holiday cards: branching out

This is a sponsored post. Minted is giving me a credit toward my holiday card order for writing this post.

You know, I've only ever ordered holiday cards from one place, because they had a good reputation and I connected with them, so I never looked elsewhere. But this year, I've been hearing lots of people talk about Minted holiday cards on Twitter, and saying that they're fantastic quality with great designs. So when I got the opportunity to work with Minted on their holiday card campaign, I jumped at it. And it turns out, as always, that Twitter was right.

A whole new site meant a whole new collection of cards to admire and choose from. I still haven't made my final selection, because we did some newborn and family shots with our favorite photographer, and I'm waiting on the proofs to decide which one to use and then see which design fits. Also, I'm very particular about my card design: I always like flat cards, and generally I prefer one big picture, although considering how many shots our photographer took of just Callum and Annika, I may want a design that allows for one big and a couple small photos. And as usual, I'm looking for something that isn't too Christmas-specific, since I am half Jewish and many of our friends and family members who will be receiving this card don't celebrate Christmas. For these reasons, I am loving that Minted offers quite a few of their designs with customizable options--you can choose flat or folder, and opt for Christmas, holiday, or New Year's text. Based on my in-depth perusal of the Minted site, here are some of my favorite options.

Brushed gold:

Glittery holiday cheer:

Bright stripes:

Wordsmith:

Merry merry:

If any of you are interested in purchasing your holiday cards from Minted this year, they are currently running a discount offer: use the coupon code BELLS to get 15% off an order of $150 or more, or 10% off an order of $100 or more, until November 18.

Mattress: A Horror Story

I believe I mentioned on Twitter at the end of last week that Callum climbed out of his crib for the first time. Sort of a typical two-year-old thing to do and something we'd been anticipating for awhile, actually, since he's so tall, so not exactly an earth-shattering moment, though we were hoping to get a couple more months out of the crib, but you know, whatever.

Regardless, the whole crib climbing thing is just backstory, designed to illustrate why, on Friday evening, we drove a few miles down the interstate to purchase a new, double mattress for Callum to use. We found a good quality, reasonably priced mattress that we liked, and then we found a floor model on sale for half the price, so we bought it, but it didn't come with delivery. That was fine, though, the salesman assured us, because we have a good solid SUV and he had a big spool of twine and he ties mattresses to cars all the time! It's no big deal!

So. We bought the mattress. We hauled it out to the car. The mattress store manager tied it solidly to the roof with twine. He assured us it wouldn't budge. The three of us (Callum was with us too) climbed in the car and drove cautiously away.

You see where this is going, right? I don't even have to tell you the end of this story, do I, because you already know what's coming, don't you?

Yeah. We trundled cautiously along, the mattress seemed secure, we drove up the entrance ramp onto the highway... and close to the end of the ramp, when we had gotten up to maybe 50 MPH or so, the mattress caught the wind, lifted like a sail, tore right through the "no-budging" twine, and flew off the back of our car onto the highway. I saw the whole thing happen, through our sunroof, and OMG. TERRIFYING.

You guys, we were so, so lucky. The mattress didn't hit an oncoming car. It didn't land in a middle lane of speeding traffic. It landed half on the shoulder of the road, half on the entrance ramp. It was actually at a place where two entrance ramps merged, so it was extra wide, and there was plenty of room for cars to steer around it. It wasn't yet dark. It didn't end up causing an accident (damn, now I've gone and given away the ending of the story). Even the mattress itself was unscathed. It was all fine. FINE. But OH MY GOD.

So yeah. Our mattress flew off our car and landed on the highway. Torsten reacted well, and we pulled over onto the (narrow, barely as wide as our car) shoulder with our hazard lights on, staring at each other going OH MY GOD OH MY GOD WHAT DO WE DO OUR MATTRESS IS GOING TO CAUSE A HORRIBLE FATAL ACCIDENT.

After we collected ourselves, we assessed the situation to determine whether we could safely get out of the car and walk back to the mattress and... move it, somehow. We concluded that we could not. The shoulder was too narrow for us to walk safely--if someone was texting or not paying attention and swerved onto the shoulder, we'd be dead. Also, I was on the passenger side of the car and could get out fairly safely, but we'd need two people to lift the mattress and Torsten couldn't get out of the car without jumping directly into traffic (and the interior of our car is set up in such a way that it's nearly impossible to climb across). Also, Callum was in the car and we weren't about to leave him alone in a car parked on the shoulder of the interstate.

So, we called 911. I kind of felt like we were overreacting and maybe should be calling the non-emergency police number instead, but you know what? It was a really dangerous situation. There was a mattress lying in traffic. If someone hit that mattress at 50 MPH (or more), they would cause a serious accident. Meanwhile, we were parked on a narrow shoulder (with our child in the car), which didn't feel all too secure. Basically, we wanted that mattress off the road STAT. And the 911 operator seemed to agree. The second I told her "mattress on highway" she was all over me for location details and dispatched someone right away. I asked how long it would be and she said she didn't know, but that mattresses on the road were a high priority so it would be as soon as possible. She told us that if we felt safe where we were parked on the shoulder (borderline) we should just wait in the car for the police officer to arrive and come talk to us.

So that's what we did, and you guys, it was seriously the most terrifying experience of my entire life. It was getting dark, and we were sitting there on the shoulder of the highway trying (unsuccessfully) to convince ourselves not to stare at the mattress in the road behind us and all the cars veering around it at the last second at high speeds, convinced that every single one of them was going to hit the mattress and spin out into a horrible accident and be killed and OH MY GOD WHERE IS THE COP WHY ISN'T HE HERE YET THEY ARE ALWAYS EVERYWHERE HANDING OUT STUPID SPEEDING TICKETS BUT SOMEONE COULD ACTUALLY BE KILLED HERE SO WHY ARE THEY TAKING SO LONG. At one point a very nice man in a pickup truck pulled over and came to talk to us (he climbed out his passenger side, thankfully) and offered to help us pick it up but we told him it was too dangerous and thank you very much but please don't risk it, we will just wait for the police.

The cop did eventually show up, after 15 life-shortening minutes of tension and stress. He parked behind the mattress with his lights on and came over to talk to us and I got out of the car and he and I lifted the mattress over the concrete barrier into the grass on the other side and then he told us to just pull the broken twine into our car so that it wouldn't get caught under our tires and sent us on our way. He was incredibly nice and didn't lecture or give us a ticket or anything.

So yeah. We drove away, took the next exit, drove down the frontage road alongside the highway until we located the mattress, pulled into the parking lot near it, and sat there debating what to do. Obviously we couldn't put the mattress on the car again, even if the twine hadn't been broken. And it wouldn't fit in the car. We called the mattress store and spoke to the guy who had tied the damn thing on our car to begin with, and while he was somewhat sympathetic, he was also surprisingly detached and also completely useless. We racked our brains for friends who owned a truck, thought of one, and called them, but they weren't answering. Then we remembered that there was a Home Depot down the street and that they rent out pickup trucks, so we drove over there, rented a truck, drove back to the mattress, got it secured in the truck, caravaned home, left the mattress in our garage, and caravaned back to Home Depot to return the truck. And my heart did not stop pounding and I did not stop shaking during the entire experience.

Oh and also when we left the house to buy the mattress? We forgot the diaper bag and had no food or water for Callum. He was asking for it when we left the mattress store, and we told him we'd be home soon (HAHAHA) and he could have some then. But we didn't anticipate the slight 1.5-hour delay. And you guys, he was so sweet and patient. As we were on the side of the highway freaking out he sat in his car seat singing songs and occasionally asking for food and water but not getting upset when we told him we were really sorry but we didn't have any right now. In fact, the thing that made him most upset was when Torsten drove the Home Depot truck and we wouldn't let him ride in it too. ("Mommy bye-bye car. Daddy bye-bye truck! CALLUM BYE-BYE TRUCK??")

So yeah, basically Callum is a perfect angel child and he better REALLY like that new mattress. Also next time I'm paying for delivery, oh my god.

Best surprise ever

I'm in DC for work right now, rather last-minute, in fact so much so that I had to leave two days before my parents' visit ended, which was rather unfortunate.

However, before I left, my sister and I managed to pull off what we personally consider the best surprise of all time... my sister and her daughter flew out to Denver for Callum's birthday and to surprise my parents during their visit. And we managed not to blow the secret beforehand, so it was a real surprise, and we got the whole thing on video.

So while I'm buried in work meetings, enjoy...

And I thought Lufthansa was supposed to be the best airline

We've been planning this trip to Europe for awhile. We haven't been to Germany to visit Torsten's parents for 3.5 years or to London to visit Torsten's best friend for 4.5 years (!). We have never been to France together (though I was there 2.5 years ago for my host sister's wedding). So! Since we haven't been to Europe in so long, and we don't know when we'll be going back, we wanted to cram everything in. So we opted for 10 days, of course including Christmas, with Torsten's parents, then three days in France with my host family, then five days in London.

Once we'd selected our itinerary we started booking flights. First we booked the transatlantic flight, direct to London from Denver. Then we futzed around with EasyJet, RyanAir, etc., reviewing prices and itineraries, and decided to fly Lufthansa for two legs of the internal journey because they offered a direct flight from Frankfurt to Toulouse, even though it cost more than our other options.

So, on one itinerary we booked our flight from London to Frankfurt and our flight from Frankfurt to Toulouse, with Lufthansa. We paid significantly more than we would have paid for an alternative itinerary on RyanAir, because Callum will be traveling on our laps and we wanted to avoid a layover. So you can imagine how incredibly delighted we were to receive an email a few months after we'd booked saying that there had been a change to our itinerary. I assumed that since it was just a casual email, it meant our departure time had changed by five minutes. Except, haha, not so much. What it ACTUALLY meant was that our direct flight from Frankfurt to Toulouse had been canceled and we had been rerouted through Munich (which, by the way, is in the WRONG DIRECTION) on a flight that departed two hours later, with a two-hour layover, followed by an additional two-hour flight.

So basically, we'd gone from a quick, direct flight to a travel schedule that will take up our entire day of a very tightly planned trip with minimal time in each destination to begin with, with a toddler on our laps who is NOT used to layovers and will NOT be impressed when we get off the first plane only to get back on another one. And they'd casually informed us of this in an email with no apology or offer of compensation of any kind.

At that point I checked out the RyanAir itinerary that we'd originally considered booking, only to discover that it was no longer available, basically meaning that we had no other options. We had to fly Lufthansa, because we'd paid them lots of money at a time when we did have options, and now that they had taken away the direct flight that was the reason we gave them all our money, we didn't have options anymore.

So I called them up to discuss compensation. I thought, given the circumstances and the extra money that we had paid them for a service they were no longer offering, it might be reasonable for them to offer: 1) an upgrade, 2) a voucher or partial refund, or 3) a seat for Callum, since having a toddler on our laps would be the most agonizing part of the whole extended trip (note that we did buy Callum a seat for the transatlantic flight, because we are not masochists and when you are traveling for a full day, you need a place to set your child down occasionally).

Turned out that Lufthansa is impenetrable. They take 10 business days to respond to emails, and you can't contact their customer relations department by phone. Also their customer relations department is only willing to deal with travelers who are upset AFTER the travel has occurred. This was infuriating to me because we wouldn't BE upset during the travel if they had been willing to deal with us beforehand. But they would rather saddle us with a crappy trip and deal with the fallout later. So I had to speak with the reservations line, as they are the only department who will talk to passengers before their travel dates. And everyone I spoke to at the reservations department was not just useless but actually downright rude. They didn't see what the problem was. They thought I was making outrageous demands. They were bound and determined to prove their point and not give an inch. (At one point when I said something about a five-hour delay, the woman I was speaking to snottily corrected me to say "it's four hours and fifty minutes." OKAY THEN. NOW I FEEL BETTER, THANKS.)

Anyway, all Lufthansa would offer us was the option to cancel our flight (not a possibility since the other airlines' options were no longer available) or switch to another flight (also not direct). And they were downright nasty. And it was uniform! It was clear that they had been TRAINED to be nasty, that they were not interested in customer service or customer satisfaction but simply in standing their ground and getting me off the phone. And I was extremely polite. It was not a nasty, screaming argument. I was friendly, I said that I understood that this wasn't their fault and that I was hoping we could work together to find a solution. I had no reason to be nasty because I genuinely believed that they would help me find a solution.

Well. They didn't. And a complaint filed online about the rude service resulted only in an email saying that I could talk to customer relations once I had completed my travel, and perhaps receive a coupon for 20% off a future flight. And a complaint on social media only resulted in them resubmitting the same complaint to the reservations department and us receiving the same response.

So. We did a bunch more research and decided to drive instead of fly. We calculated that with the hour-long drive to the airport, the slog through security, the advance waiting time, the layover, the two flights, and then the wait on the other end for our luggage and the drive from the airport to my host family's house, we'd be looking at about 8-9 hours of travel. The drive is 11 hours, and much more comfortable and scenic, and plus it goes through Paris where we have good friends that we can meet for lunch.

So I priced out rental cars and then called up Lufthansa to find out how much of a refund I could expect if we canceled the Frankfurt-Toulouse leg of our trip (since we still needed the London-Frankfurt leg of the trip that, remember, was on the same itinerary). And AHAHAHAHA apparently, according to them, I can only cancel the entire trip, including the portion that was unaffected by their schedule change, or not cancel at all.

With the trip in three weeks, you can imagine what the cost of a one-way ticket from London to Frankfurt is. And if we don't get a partial refund for the Frankfurt-Toulouse leg of the trip, then the cost of the rental car will be beyond our budget. So basically, if they won't give us a partial refund then we are totally stuck.

In other words, Lufthansa's attitude seems to be: you pay us a premium for a specific service. We will stop  offering that service and keep your money. But don't worry, you can either cancel EVERY service you've booked with us, or switch to a different, equally unacceptable service.

COOL DEAL. I thought Lufthansa had a reputation as one of the nicest, most customer-oriented airlines. But after this happened we started talking to people and discovered that almost everyone who has ever flown Lufthansa has a similar nightmare story. It really seems to be a pervasive, top-down attitude that is spread to everyone who works for that company. Contrast this to the story a friend of mine told me about Delta: they changed her departure time, on the same flight and everything, by A FEW MINUTES and offered her a choice of miles or an upgrade to compensate for the inconvenience. THAT is the kind of response I would expect from an airline.

Anyway, after much insisting on my part on the phone, the reservations woman reluctantly told me that she would send a request to the ticket office and I should call back in 24-48 hours to find out if they would make an exception for me and grant a partial refund, and if so, how much that refund would be. Given how AWESOME their customer service has been thus far, I'm not too optimistic that she actually sent such a request, or that if I call back, whoever I talk to will be at all useful.

Also, if they do offer a partial refund, somehow I'm guessing it won't exceed $20.

Update: My $20 guess was close. They actually offered a $48 refund. (AND I had to spend $10 calling a UK toll line at 74 cents per minute to be given this information.) And they continue to offer the worst customer service I've ever encountered. They seem to genuinely believe that I'm insane to be upset, and they strive to convey this belief in the most supercilious manner possible. The party line is that they are legally bound to find a way of getting me to my final destination, and they have done so, and their obligation ends there so why on earth would they do anything further? I'm calling their PR office to see if they can offer an answer to that question. When that doesn't pan out, and it inevitably will not, I'm done. I give up. The airline wins. I mean, the majority of their passengers seem to hate them, but they seem to call that a win, so congratulations to them. Not that I'm bitter.

Winner! And bonus video

Thanks to everyone who entered last week's Tiny Prints giveaway. I turned to trusty Random.org to select a winner:

Commenter number 36 is Beth! Beth, I don't see an email address on your blog so I will try to contact you through a comment or you can just email me directly: duwaxloolu at gmail.

And let's call this video a consolation prize: Callum likes to pretend to read books and then slam them shut and yell "all done!" and it's really very adorable. Also kind of a pain when he "reads" every single book on his shelf and then throws them all on the floor, but whatever. It's cute anyway.

Holiday cards + Tiny Prints giveaway

This is a sponsored post. Tiny Prints is giving me a credit toward my holiday card order to write this post. They've also provided me a giveaway for a reader.

We did our annual family photos about a week ago (with the same amazing photographer we used for last year's family photos and for our maternity photos) and while I wait impatiently to see the images, I've been perusing the Tiny Prints website to start narrowing down the holiday cards I like.

First of all, here is the card we sent out last year:

Now. What I learned last year is that it is totally futile to try to pick a design using a stand-in photo, because the composition and coloring of the final photo selection will be totally different. So this year I didn't even bother with that. I just went straight for the card designs I liked best, and once we get the images from our photographer then that will definitely inform the final choice of design.

As far as parameters: I want something that is not religious or holiday-specific, as we ourselves are a mixed holiday couple and our friends and family celebrate all different combinations of holidays. I like flat cards, preferably, but not necessarily, rectangular. I don't like our last name to be enormously prominent. I generally like designs with just one big photo on the front, especially because Tiny Prints lets you put two small photos on the back, which we did last year, in part because our front photo didn't feature Montana and in part because we had so many amazing photos of just Callum that we had to share at least one:

Beyond that, all I want is something visually appealing and not too hokey. So. Here are the designs I'm leaning toward this year. It seems like they break down into a few basic categories.

Language or design/color scheme that isn't overtly Christmas-y, but still invokes Christmas:

Structured for family news, which makes me feel awkward/I don't know what I would write, but I'd love to get this kind of newsy card from other people so maybe I should get over myself:

Basic wintry:

Anyway. Soon enough we'll have our photos and then I can actually make a choice! And order the cards! And send them out! And then it will really feel like the holiday season has begun.

In the meantime, Tiny Prints is offering a giveaway for one reader: $50 off your holiday card order. To enter, leave a comment here by Friday night and I'll pick a winner at random. And if you're interested in ordering from Tiny Prints whether you win a giveaway or not, check out their special offers page.

And here's a comment prompt for people who want to enter the contest: tell me about your holiday card habits. Do you send one out most years? Does it have a photo? How do you normally display the holiday cards you receive?

Recent reads

Every now and then I start to feel like I've really been reading a lot of great stuff on the Internet recently. Now is one of those times, so, here are a few things that I especially liked reading and thought you might enjoy too.

Rich, from Swistle, on religion + money (this reminded me a little of one of my very favorite Stephen Colbert clips of all time--the absolute best part starts at 3:55 but the whole thing is great).

Polite Conversation, from Liz, one of my very favorite people (and real-life friend), on publicly discussing her miscarriage.

I Believe In Pink, by Hillary Savoie, about her daughter's as-yet-undiagnosed syndrome (the whole blog is amazing; I had a really hard time picking just one post).

Science Friday: Aspartame, by Susie, everyone's favorite toxicologist (this one is a couple months old but I'm still sending the link to people, so it seems like it really belongs here).

On working in a do-good field, by Nomad Soul, a reaction to the New York Times piece about career passions.

Enjoy! And happy Friday!

Pizzle (yes, I went there)

Oh, you guys. Last night I somehow got into an extensive Twitter conversation about bully sticks (don't click that link if you're faint-hearted, or maybe have a super uptight workplace), and I STILL haven't recovered. I died about eight times during that conversation. In case you're wondering, yes, Montana eats them regularly, and yes, they are super expensive but less so at Costco, and yes, it's a gross concept but in practice it's just like a rawhide bone, and dammit, they're healthy! 80% protein and no other ingredients! Also, what do you think wild animals do? Eat the tasty cuts of meat off their kills and leave the unsavory bits with cultural taboos to rot? I'M JUST SAYING.

(OMG. That conversation. It went from bully sticks to protein to dehydration to old neighbors to cost-effectiveness to lobsters and eggs. It was a perfect illustration of the genius of Twitter. I love Twitter so much. And it was totally my savior during my accidental blogging hiatus.)

Unrelatedly, our household was felled by a stomach bug over the weekend, and OH GOD. We all had one of these last year, and both times we got them in the same order: first Callum, then Torsten, then me. Thank goodness this one wasn't nearly as crippling as the last one, but it was still extremely unpleasant. Also, I think being the last one to get sick is unfair. While I'm still healthy, I have to cater on the other two, all the while KNOWING that the bug is coming for me next and not being able to do anything to stop it. UGH. Luckily it passed quickly, but while I was lying in bed wishing for death I was thinking: this is the thing you don't expect when you have kids! They bring evil stomach bugs into the house on a regular basis! Shouldn't I be immune to all this crap by now? APPARENTLY NOT. We need a stomach bug vaccine! STAT.

Since apparently this post is just going to be a disconnected assortment of thoughts that should probably be turned into some sort of bulleted list that I can't be bothered with: there are TONS of Romney yard signs cropping up on our street, and on the other streets in our neighborhood. So many of them popped up simultaneously that I'm wondering if some sort of Romney canvasser rang doorbells and handed them out for free. I have yet to see a single Obama sign in the neighborhood, even though our next-door neighbor told us that it was a pretty even mix back in 2008. We ordered an Obama sign a couple weeks ago, but it's not here yet. I can only hope that the delay is because they're so backed up with orders, but seriously, I want my sign! (Also, hopefully the delay isn't because some Romney supporter stole the package off our porch.) (Also, Five Thirty Eight is saving my sanity on a regular basis right now.)

But I shouldn't complain about the Romney signs, really, because I love living in a swing state and feeling like my vote matters. If only Torsten could vote! Maybe someday...

(Also, did you hear about Romney's comment about how plane windows should roll down? I know it was off the cuff, but it's kind of a stunning comment. I mean, everyone knows why plane windows don't roll down. Plus, in addition to the whole suction and lack of oxygen issues, I love that the comment suggests that what you want to put out a fire is MORE OXYGEN.)

OK, snark over. To restore balance to any potential Romney supporters who might be reading this (though really, my reaction would be the same, or possibly more upset, if Obama had said such a thing), here is a picture of my child in the bath last night:



He spent the entire bath doing this (aside from the quick break he took to throw his giant tugboat full of water out of the tub and onto the floor). Even though I hustled him out quickly once I saw what his activity of choice was going to be, it still took many towels to mop up the flood. It's a good thing he's so cute.

Holiday spirit

It's the season of giving. So head over to pseudostoops and leave a comment on her annual series of Giving My Money Away Extravaganza posts. Today your comment will send money to Bundle of Joy, a diaper bank. And check back all this week because you can comment every day to donate money to different organizations.

So! Off you go! But before you leave, please enjoy this photo of Callum on Santa's lap. Am I a bad mom because I was glad he cried? It's just such a classic photo, yes?

Accent vlog

I'm not going to The Blathering (SADLY) but everyone's doing this accent vlog, so, you know, me too! Here we go. Notes: 1. I highlighted my hair, and yes I do show that off in the video. Do you like it? 2. I don't usually hold my head quite so still when talking, but I was trying to keep my face in the frame. 3. In the video I keep talking about needing to finish before my in-laws arrive, and they totally walked in two seconds after I finished. I win! 4. I should totally get Torsten to do one of these, because he has the best accent of all.



For the record, here are the prompts:

Say these words:
Aunt, route, wash, oil, theatre, iron, salmon, caramel, fire, water, sure, data, ruin, crayon, toilet, New Orleans, pecan, both, again, probably, spitting image, Alabama, lawyer, coupon, mayonnaise, syrup, pajamas, caught

And answer these questions:
What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
What is the bug that curls into a ball when you touch it?
What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?
What do you call gym shoes?
What do you say to address a group of people?
What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body and extremely long legs?
What do you call your grandparents?
What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?
What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?
What is the thing you use to change the TV channel?

Pet peeve: how long pregnancy ACTUALLY is

Yesterday marked exactly one month until my due date. Which means that technically when people ask when I'm due, I could say, "The 19th," and not need to qualify it with a month, because it's the NEXT 19th. Yikes! I think I'm going to keep saying "next month" until we actually get to January, though. But still. Less than a month away.

Speaking of pregnancy months, here is a pet peeve of mine: it feels like every pregnant woman I know complains that nobody ever told her that pregnancy is actually TEN months long, not nine (which, given that everybody seems to complain about this, makes it surprising that they all seem so shocked by this apparent revelation, since you would think they would have heard each other complaining about it in the past).

But my real issue is this: pregnancy is NOT ten months long. It's not really even quite nine months long. Let me break this down for you. Those of you who have been pregnant before likely know this, but I didn't know some of it until I myself got pregnant, so let's start at the beginning.

Pregnancy is measured as being 40 weeks long. As in, when you hit 40 weeks, that is your due date. BUT, the 40 weeks are counted from the date of your last menstrual period, NOT from the date of ovulation or conception (and those can actually happen a day or so apart as well). Most women ovulate at least two weeks after the first day of their period. So for those first two weeks of "pregnancy," you are NOT actually pregnant. You are only considered to have been pregnant retroactively, but during those first two weeks you could easily have avoided getting pregnant, by using birth control or not having sex (or not going through fertility procedures, and so on--the point is, during those two weeks, the pregnancy was not a foregone conclusion).

Got it? For the first two of the 40 weeks, you were NOT pregnant, even though that time is counted as part of your pregnancy.

So for one thing, pregnancy is actually only 38 weeks from conception to due date. Though sometimes it pushes closer to 40 weeks again if the baby comes late.

But let's just say, for a second, that pregnancy really is exactly 40 weeks long. THAT IS STILL NOT TEN MONTHS. That is approximately ten LUNAR months, but we DO NOT COUNT TIME IN LUNAR MONTHS. If we did, we would say that a year is 13 months long, but we don't. We say it is 12 months long, because that's what our calendars say--all of our months except February are longer than four weeks.

To be exact, a 30-day month is 4.29 weeks long, and a 31-day month is 4.43 weeks long. Let's average those out and round down a tad to account for February (or we could divide 365 by 12, and then divide that by 7, which would give us the same result) and say that a month is, on average, 4.35 weeks long.

So, if we count pregnancy as 40 weeks and a month as 4.35 weeks, that would make pregnancy about 9.2 months long. And if we count the actual time that you are pregnant, assuming an on-time delivery, as 38 weeks, that makes pregnancy about 8.7 months long. NOT EVEN NINE MONTHS.

In case your eyes crossed when I started using decimal points, I charted my cycle the month I got pregnant, so I have exact dates that I can use to demonstrate this more concretely:

My last period started on April 13. I ovulated on April 26. My due date is January 19 (though some calculators/wheels list it as January 18, which I think is actually more accurate--but is not what's in my chart). So, let's see. April 13 to January 19? NOT ten months. April 26 to January 19? DEFINITELY not ten months.

I KNOW, the point pregnant women are trying to make is that pregnancy is long and often feels even longer, but it drives me NUTS when they try to express this by talking about how it is ten months long. IT IS NOT TEN MONTHS LONG.

Nine months is long enough that we all have PLENTY of legs to stand on when it comes to complaining about the misery of the experience. Let's not all undermine our credibility by exaggerating just to make our plights sound THAT much more dire.

Give away MORE of someone else's money!

You know, pseudostoops' Giving My Money Away extravaganza is going on all week. Which means that if you haven't clicked through since Monday, there are THREE more posts where you can donate just by leaving a comment. For easy reference, here are the three:

Today: The Women's Treatment Center
Yesterday: Erie Family Health Center
Tuesday: The Night Ministry

Off you go!

Do something good! For free!

This year, once again, the lovely pseudostoops is doing her holiday Giving My Money Away extravaganza. All you have to do is leave a comment, and SHE will donate more money to a worthy cause. So go! Give away someone else's money and feel good about yourself in the process!

Banking woes

Oh hi. I'm tired. I feel like I spent all day yesterday on the phone with Wachovia. I didn't, really--I actually managed to do work, too--but the emotional toll of dealing with a bank who can mess with your finances without, apparently, leaving a paper trail explaining their actions? It's pretty high. And I don't really feel like coping.

The short version is, I deposited a check last Friday. I checked our bank balance online every day and watched it process until they released the funds and the full amount of the check was included in the available balance, which happened on Tuesday. Then I mailed checks to pay several bills. Yesterday I logged into our bank account only to see that the balance had been "adjusted" to remove the exact amount of the check.

I called Wachovia. They transferred me to their disputes and claims department. Disputes and claims could tell me nothing. They were able to look at the image of the check and see that it was properly made out, signed, endorsed, etc. They could see no reason why the check had been rejected. There was a note along with the rejection, but apparently it was written in gibberish because it meant nothing to everyone who looked at it. The ATM department also knew nothing about the situation. All I could do was file a dispute and wait 5-7 business days for it to be resolved. Which is great, given that I mailed these checks yesterday. How should I pay my mortgage, I asked. And was advised to "make other arrangements." Oh, sure. I'll just send my mortgage company a whole bunch of invisible cash to make up for the check that's about to bounce. No problem. Thanks!

I called the main Wachovia line. The woman I spoke to put me on hold for 20 minutes while she tried to figure it out. Then she told me it was more complicated than she'd realized and she'd have to call me back. Three hours later, she called me back. She'd spent the last three hours looking into the situation, contacting every department that could possibly be involved in the issue, working with her supervisor. And she had learned... nothing. Nobody knew who had rejected the check, or even what department they were in. Nobody knew why the check had been rejected. Nobody knew what the note associated with the rejection meant. There was nothing she could do for me except suggest that I wait five to seven days for the dispute to be resolved and see what happens then.

I called the branch of Wells Fargo where I deposited the check. (Wachovia has already switched over to Wells Fargo in Colorado, but not in DC, where the account was opened, so our account is still technically Wachovia but we do our banking at Wells Fargo.) I thought maybe the note associated with the rejection was from Wells Fargo, and the Wachovia people weren't familiar with the terminology used. I know from experience that the two banks' ability to access each other's systems is severely limited. The guy from Wells Fargo was very nice, but could tell me nothing. He didn't know what the note meant either, and it wasn't anyone at his branch who rejected the check. He's still trying to look into the issue for me, but I am not hopeful that there is anything he can do to find out what happened.

I called the issuer of the check. They are happy to issue another check. However, since the original check is still in limbo, the new check can't be issued until the problem with the current one is resolved. Since it's possible that the dispute I filed will be resolved in my favor, i.e. the funds will be credited back to our account and the check will clear, the risk with issuing a new check is that they both will end up getting cashed. So we are going to hold off on issuing a new check until the dispute is resolved.

I understand that Wachovia didn't actually take anyone's money. The check didn't get cashed so nobody is out for the amount it was written for. Apparently banks have the right to refuse to cash checks if they wish, since they are partially liable for bad checks. That's fine; I get that. But is it really possible that one random person within the enormous Wachovia corporation has the ability to reverse payment on a check that has already been credited to an account, without any sort of paper trail?

How is it possible that four different people spent many hours yesterday looking into this, and weren't able to find out so much as what department was responsible for rejecting the check? Shouldn't anyone who makes any sort of adjustment on somebody's bank account have to enter their employee ID into a computer system to make it traceable, at the very least? Not to mention possibly adding some kind of drop-down menu of standardized reasons they could select for doing so, in order to avoid the situation where they type gibberish into the notes box that nobody else at the entire company is able to interpret? I mean, the way the system is set up (not that I actually think this is what happened, just that it seems like a potential liability), somebody could be in a bad mood and just arbitrarily decide that they felt like messing with someone else's finances, and there would be zero accountability for their decision to do this. Nobody would be able to find out who did it or why. That's a lot of power for a bunch of random bank employees.

I'm thinking it might be time to switch to a local bank. The small kind, with a finite number of employees, so that if something like this happened, at least somebody would be able to claim personal accountability.

TV weekend

Torsten and I finished watching Season 1 of The Wire this weekend. He adores it. I like it a lot. It definitely grew on me. We are going to hold off on Season 2 until after the World Cup ends, though, because when you check it out of the library you have to watch the whole season in three weeks (not renewable because there's a queue), and we have to, you know, work and not just watch soccer and crime shows round the clock, you know?

Plus it'll be good to have a break from the violence. It starts to get to me after awhile, even when the show is really good.

You know what doesn't get to me? 4-0 World Cup wins. Assuming, of course, that the team that scores four is the one you're rooting for. Which, in this case, it obviously was.

Two World Cup notes:

1. "Pobres Australianos" was a trending topic on Twitter after the Germany game yet. I think that's adorable. I did feel sorry for them, not just for getting trounced but also for that one player getting that straight red card for something that looked to me like it barely deserved a yellow card. Apparently the guy was in tears after the game. Does a straight red mean he misses the next two games? If so, he probably won't get to play in this World Cup again, as Australia seems unlikely to advance out of group play, and since he's already 30 years old it's possible he won't get to come to the next World Cup either. What a crappy way to go, you know? I mean, it's no Zidane head butt, but still.

2. I saw a joke on Twitter about the poor English goalie who let in that embarrassing goal against the US. It went something like this: "The British national team says they are behind goalkeeper Robert Green after his blunder. In retrospect, that's a good place to stand." It makes me laugh every time I think about it. Even though, of course: the poor guy. And he had an amazing save later in the game so really it all evens out, but of course the British tabloids don't agree.

OK! I swear I won't keep going on about the World Cup, for all those of you who are groaning and rolling your eyes. Really, I will keep it to myself. At least til the next Germany game. Fair?

Encounters with lost dogs

On Saturday evening I was involved in my third Lost Dog Rescue Operation since we moved into this house a year ago (and in fact, today is the one-year anniversary of the day we moved in, so the timing of this post feels very apropos).

The first one was last fall, I think, during a huge snowstorm. A dog showed up on our lawn, if you can call it a lawn still when it's covered with a foot of snow. He was dirty and wet and covered with bits of ice and shivering. I saw him through the window in the morning. I was still wearing my pajamas so I just threw on my snow boots and down coat and ran outside to follow him up the street. I caught up with him a few houses away, and called the number on his tag, and spoke to the owner's sister. The owner wasn't home, but the sister gave me the code to open their garage, so I was able to put the dog in there where it was safe and warm and dry, and close the door behind him so he wouldn't get out again before his owner got home. The owner's sister thanked me profusely.

The second one was sometime this past winter, on a mild day. The dog was wandering from house to house when I came across her while walking Montana. She had a rabies tag but no ID tag, so I called the vet whose number was listed on the rabies tag and gave them the ID number. They told me that they couldn't give out the owner's information, but they could give my phone number to the owner, and that they could tell me the dog's name and that they would like me to please hang on to the dog until I heard from the owner, and if I didn't hear from the owner by that evening I should call them back and they would take care of the dog until they tracked down the owner. So we kept the dog in our yard all afternoon, until we heard from the owner. The dog desperately wanted to leave the house, and managed to chew half a board off our gate before we noticed, which meant that we had to tie her up in the yard so she wouldn't destroy our fence. When the owner came, she didn't seem particularly thankful or appreciative, and just said that they had a hole in their fence through which the dog escaped. I don't think it's a mystery how they got the hole in their fence to begin with.

This most recent time, this past weekend, was the scariest. I was driving home from the grocery store and saw the dog walking down the street. He then crossed the street right in front of my car, causing me to hit the brakes pretty hard. Then he walked onto our lawn and sniffed around for awhile before continuing up the street. I parked the car in our driveway and walked up the street after him. I caught up with him a few houses away. He wasn't wearing a collar, which is why this was scarier than the other times.

I knocked on the door of the house whose yard I caught him in, and they said it wasn't their dog and they'd never seen him before, but they were able to lend me a leash and collar, so we brought him home. We weren't sure if he'd been gone for awhile or what, but it was dinnertime, so we gave him a scoop of food and he scarfed it down right away. Then we gave him a treat and put him in the yard with a bowl of water. We tried to call the Dumb Friends League to see if they could scan him for a microchip, but they were already closed for the day. So, we figured we'd hang some signs in the neighborhood, see if anyone called, and if we hadn't heard from anyone by Monday, we'd call them and bring him in.

So we made a cute little sign. Really, it was cute! It said "Found, brown male dog, maybe lab mix, about 70-80 pounds, older, no collar. Call [our number]." And then Torsten took a picture of the dog and we pasted it into the Word doc and printed out a bunch of copies in black and white. Then we walked around the neighborhood to hang them up. We had only hung two of them and were walking down the street carrying the rest when a guy drove by, rolled down his window, and said, "Hey, have you guys seen a chocolate lab anywhere?"

It was so exciting! I had had visions of having to give him up to the shelter, and drive him there and everything, and in the meantime take care of him and have him sleep in our garage in case he was the destructive type, and having to worry about finding a no-kill shelter, and potentially removing him from his neighborhood instead of just letting him be to find his own way home. But we had never seen him before and had no idea if Home was anywhere nearby, or if he would have to cross busy streets and potentially get hit by a car to get there, you know? So it seemed safer to keep him in our yard and try to find the owner ourselves. And it worked out!

The story was, as it turned out, that the family had literally just moved into the house that day, and while they were hauling stuff the dog escaped, and they didn't notice right away, and when they did notice they panicked, and he wasn't wearing his collar because it was packed. (And no, I didn't ask why they would possibly have packed his collar instead of just letting him wear it... it did seem strange, like, their kids weren't naked, you know? They didn't pack all their clothes, so why would they packed their dog's collar? But I couldn't think of a polite way to ask this question, so I just let it go.)

Anyway, they were VERY thankful, and the guy had two little kids in the car who were very glad to see the dog, and the guy asked us if he could keep one of our signs so he could show his wife how nice the people were who found the dog, and he told us where he lives in case we ever find the dog roaming again. So all's well that ends well, I suppose.

But, my question is, am I the only person in the neighborhood who actually picks up stray dogs? Is this not the norm? The reason I do it is that Montana is absolutely the type of dog to run out the front door and down the street at the first opportunity, and when that happens we panic that she will get hit by a car, or never come back for whatever reason, and I would be THRILLED if a neighbor picked her up and called us to let her know they had her. So I try to extend the same courtesy to other dog owners in the neighborhood. And two out of the three times that I've done it, the owners have seemed very, very thankful that we picked up the dog.

So, is it weird that I do this? Would most people just notice a dog running around the neighborhood, shrug, and do nothing? Do people think it's better to let the dog run so that it can find its own way home? What would you do if you saw a strange dog on your lawn, clearly unattended?

Scary books scare me

I recognize that the title of this post is a tautology, but it's true. Even if that isn't the point of a book, even if it's a book about something else entirely that contains a scary event, it scares me. It makes me feel tense and worried.

I don't do well with scary movies, either. Or scary TV shows. I watch 24 with Torsten, and I enjoy most of it, but at parts I have to look away, and afterward sometimes I feel stressed and nervous.

I think the parts that bother me are the moments of suspense. I don't like it when Jack Bauer is creeping around a room looking for something and the music is suspenseful and I know he's going to get jumped at any second. I don't like it when the innocent main character is hanging out with someone we think she trusts, and she thinks we trust, and then we find out we can't trust anybody.

I don't mind explosions and gunfights and special effects. I just don't like scary silent parts when you know something's coming and you don't know what.

I guess this fits in with the fact that I generally do not like surprises, and you can psychoanalyze it all you want and tell me I'm a control freak or whatever you want. But really I just don't like being shocked. And I don't like anticipation. That's what really gets to me.

And I've always been that way. I've described before my long-standing hate of the game Perfection. I just don't do well with partial information. I'd rather something come completely out of the blue all of a sudden without me having had any inkling of it, or I want to know far in advance and have plenty of time to prepare.

My point is, I stupidly read a book, a book that I LIKED, really I did, that had a kidnapping in it and a main character who suddenly found herself surrounded by people who could be dangerous to her, and even though it was just a silly novel and I finished the whole thing in one day and of course it had a lovely ending and so on, I was tense. Tense from the moment the event happened in the book, through the end of it and on through the rest of the evening and even once I got into bed. It took much cuddling with Torsten before I relaxed enough to fall asleep.

My point is, I am a mess. A big wimpy mess. Please tell me I'm not alone.

Musings

• Am I the only one who thinks Lee Dewyze is hot? I mean, OK, you can tell he smoked quite a bit of pot a few years back, but still. HOT. No?
• I love thinking about baby names. Love it. As in, I am dying for the SSA baby names data to be updated with info from 2009. I am super curious to see if the name Nevaeh ("Heaven" backward) holds steady at number 34, or goes up or down.
• (NUMBER THIRTY-FOUR. HEAVEN BACKWARD. AS A NAME. THIRTY-FOURTH MOST POPULAR IN THE COUNTRY. For comparison, the 34th most popular girl name the year I was born was Erica.)
• The place where Torsten gets his hair cut always says at the bottom of the receipt that if he fills out an online survey within 48 hours of his haircut, he'll get a $3 coupon for the next one. He just got a haircut and for the first time he actually remembered to do it in time. So, he typed in the address and... the site doesn't work. It doesn't exist. We double-checked the address and we are definitely typing it in right. Do you think we can call and complain and get the coupon anyway?
• I do not understand, generally speaking, why people get so up in arms about bloggers criticizing corporations. Look, I understand that the Supreme Court seems to think that corporations are equivalent to people, entitled to the same protections as individuals, but I don't agree. They have a lot more money and a lot more resources and a lot of them do a lot of shady, unethical, and/or wrong things to keep that money. So why do people feel the need to defend them as though they are the playground scapegoat? I'm pretty sure they can take care of themselves, you know?
  
• Lee Dewyze. HOT.