How to spend one's first evening of winter break

• Arrive home to the welcoming smell of t-butyl mercaptan in some, but not all areas of the house
  
  
• Call natural gas company to report gas leak
  
  
• Open windows
  
  
• Hear CO detector go off
  
  
• Put cats in pet carrier, kids in coats and head to neighbors
  
  
• Call gas company again
  
  
• Call neighbors to tell them we've let ourselves into their house
  
  
• Gas company reports fire department will be coming too
  
  
• Wait
  
  
• Neighbors come home, our kids play with their kid
  
  
• Their cat hisses at our cats
  
  
• Gas company and fire department arrive. Vent house. Close up again.
  
  
• Fire company determines CO is coming from water heater and/or furnace and the water heater has a hole in it and needs to be replaced.
  
  
• Listen to fire department tell us not to turn on furnace until someone comes to check it or fix it.
  
  
• Find "turn on the water and hope for the best" to be insufficient precautionary steps against freezing pipes.
  
  
• Call extremely odd but competent heating and cooling guy.
  
  
• Agree that our pipes would probably not freeze by 8am if our house was at 70 degrees now.
  
  
• Explain that our house is at approximately 20 degrees now.
  
  
• Wait.
  
  
• Observe that kids are all tired and hungry and getting on each other's nerves.
  
  
• Observe that our cats are hungry and getting on each other's nerves.
  
  
• Return to house to get Mac-n-cheese and another cat carrier.
  
  
• Heating and cooling guy arrives, assesses safety of furnace, fires furnace up and sets at 50 degrees for the evening once assured humans and pets will be retreating to a hotel.
  
  
• Agrees to show up at 8:30 to replace WH, recommends replacing furnace, tells Dr. H all about the problems he has with his colon and his ex-wife.
  
  
• Go through house quickly to collect necessities for the evening.
  
  
• Retreat to hotel over protests of neighbors, having already taken up four hours of their evening.
  
  
• Get kids/cats settled in hotel. Look over furnace brochures. Check consumer reports and manufacturer's website. Note that a 20+ year furnace in our poorly constructed house is likely to have very low efficiency.
  
  
• Call heating and cooling guy in the morning to find out if they sell the 93% efficient furnaces in the manufacturer's product line in addition to the 80% efficient one he gave us the brochure for.
  
  
• Pack up cats and kids, meet heating and cooling guys at house, install 93% efficient, two-stage furnace and new water heater.
  
  
• Buy new CO detectors.
  
  

Update RBoC

Just a few things that have been going on while I have not been blogging:

• I've become addicted to PackRat on Facebook. It's Addy's fault, really.
  
  
• I've also become obsessed with RealClearPolitics. I have only myself to blame.
  
  
• My mother was quite disappointed Hillary did not get the Democratic nomination. I was worried she was going to vote for McCain. She lived in Arizona from 1976 until May of this year, and generally felt positively towards McCain. Sarah Palin took care of all that. Yesterday, my mom voted for Obama. In Florida.
  
  
• My conservative cousin who is turning 36 this month voted for Obama a few days ago. He has never voted before. Ever. He lives in Texas, though, so no help there.
  
  
• My mom is a victim of the mortgage crisis. More on this later.
  
  
• I went to a CUR (Council on Undergraduate Research) workshop as a member of a team from my institution. It was fantastic.
  
  
• We hired fabulous adjuncts this year. Awesome.
  
  
• Three comics I like about work, life and woo.
  
  
• A little vignette from my house, while trying to convince the kids to get dressed:
  
  

  
  Dr. H: Hey, who don't you both wear your kitty shirts? Then you can be twins!
  
  Curie: We're ALREADY twins.

  
  

  
  
  

RBoC in Pictures

• The garden is in bloom:
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
• Cats are cute:
  
  
  
  
  
  
• We have a lot of weeds.
  
  
  
  
  
  
• Dr. H. thought he wasn't allergic to poison ivy. He was wrong.
  
  
  
  (The picture is from a week and half later, a few of those days with prescription steroids.)
  
  
  
• Ugh, just ugh.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
• Fun in lab:
  
  
  
  
  

Warning: Post about parents, furniture and sex toys.

We recently purchased new bedroom furniture. Having outlasted our hand-me-down furniture and having put up with our inexpensive pkea (see Futurama clip here) long enough, we decided to buy real grownup furniture.

While in the process, Dr. H mentioned to his father that we were shopping for furniture. His dad excitedly pointed out that we would be able to take our pick of furniture from his old house and Dr. H's grandparents' old house. The houses are on the same property and are scheduled to be put on the market soon. Unexcited about more hand-me-down furniture, Dr. H. was noncommittal. However, a month later, when Dr. H. proposed driving there in June and possibly towing a small rental trailer behind him if the need arises, his Father insisted he should fly and rent a truck, because there would be way too much stuff for a trailer.

Uh-oh.

"Does he think we are taking a whole set of bedroom furniture in addition to your grandfather's papers?" I asked.

"I don't know. I didn't think so before, but now?"

We have a small bedroom and by this time had already decided on a platform bed with drawers to improve our storage situation. We bought it and two large dressers with deep drawers from a popular catalog we will call EarthenwareBarn. We forged ahead and purchased the furniture. It arrived prior to Dr. H. finalizing his plans to visit his father. In retrospect, I'm not sure if this tactic would be considered brilliant, passive-aggressive, cowardly, or what, but is seemed no big deal at the time. The day the furniture arrived, I mentioned it to FIL's partner when I spoke to her on the phone, forgetting this might be a sticky situation. She sounded extremely surprised. Uh-oh. A half an hour later, FIL calls to talk to his son. Why had he purchased furniture? Why had he not waited until he came to visit? I told Dr. H. to blame it on me, the daughter-in-law, but Dr. H. would have none of it. Instead, he explained our storage situation to his father, leaving out the small detail that one of the reasons we lack storage is the amount of space we have dedicated to sex toys and BDSM equipment. (Apologies to anyone shocked. To those curious, we are both switches.)

Anyway, two days after that awkward conversation, Dr. H. brought the furniture up with his father again, who assured him he understood. In truth, FIL has a tendency to advocate for solutions to problems that work well for him, sometimes not hearing or absorbing others' lack of enthusiasm or objections to the idea. Once he had time to realize we had never actually said or even implied we wanted any of the furniture, he was very gracious. All is well.

In other news, my mom is staying with us for June and July. Having recently retired, she is in the process of moving across country to be near her brother and by the ocean. She loves the new furniture. The bed is great, with six deep drawers around the outside.

"What are you going to put in all those drawers under the bed?" she asks.

"Um..." I say, pausing, as this conversation has just become a little awkward.

"Oh!" here eyes grow wide. She knows we are kinky. Other than that she prefers no details. In general, she is fine with it. She thinks we are adventurous and doesn't want to know too much more.

After a moment she says, "But what about the other five drawers?"

"Uh..." I pause again to think. I am totally unprepared for this conversation. And, in general, I try not to lie to my mother, so it doesn't come easy.

"You need all SIX drawers?" She asks, incredulous.

"Um, well maybe four or five," I say, "not including what's in the closet."

"Oh!"

Mercifully, the conversation ends here, with only minor embarrassment and perhaps some small amount of amusement on both our parts.

Of course, since having kids, much of our equipment is sadly neglected. But the kids are sleeping really soundly at night now. Perhaps we just need to invest in a little more soundproofing?

Things I forgot to do today

1) Wash my hair

2) Show up for a review session that I scheduled for 11 a.m.

3) Buy cooking oil

Two track mind

Me: I know what you are thinking, but I have a lot of work to do.

Dr. H: How is it you always know what I'm thinking?

Me: You are always thinking about the same thing.

Dr. H: Not true. Sometimes I get all distracted by an interesting statistics problem.

 

Things I've learned in the last 24 hours

1. When the hard drive of a MacBook starts to go, it behaves just like a laptop running Windows.

2. Hard drive failures are a lot less stressful when the computer is still under warranty and there is just enough life left in the drive to do a full backup.

3. Watching a computer report that there are fewer and fewer files in a directory each time you click on it is somewhat disconcerting, item 2 (above) notwithstanding.

4. The order of priority of my electronic files appears to be: sabbatical research data, kid pictures, other documents. In fairness, the kid picture folder was 1 GB, the research folder was more like 10 MB.

5. To describe the same program, art faculty come up with entirely different graphics than science faculty do.

6. Other faculty members who want to needle you about how the upper division students in their class can't do stuff they should have learned in your class should first check to make sure said students have taken your class. While they are at it, perhaps it would be best if they recalled that they had in fact advised said students to wait to take your class until next year.

More on the potty-training front

I must confess that despite my discomfort, this peeing standing up thing has its advantages.

Me: Dalton, do you have to pee?

Dalton: No!

Me: Really?

Dalton: No!

Dr. H: Dalton, you haven't gone in a long time and you are running around holding your penis. [Dr. H is rather analytical that way]

Me: Are you sure you don't have to use the potty?

Dalton: NO! I don't WANT to use the potty! [starts to cry]

Me: Dalton, I have an idea. Do you want to try peeing in the potty standing up?!!

Dalton: Yeah! [smiles, laughs, runs into bathroom, and immediately pees in toilet]

I must thank EarlytoBed as it was her comment on my previous post that made me try to use my son's interest in peeing standing up to my advantage. On a completely different subject (women, science, sexism) check out this amazing story from her blog.
 

Different Reactions

Recently, I found I was not so happy about this business:



So I did this:


Now, dying my hair is not unusual, having started going gray at 20. But, being short on time and vanity, I usually do this only on semester breaks. I missed my usual before the term window and found myself with a block of time in the middle of the week.

My honor's class, consisting of mostly freshman women:

"Your hair looks cute!"

My major's class, consisting of mostly junior-senior men:

"Whoa! Did you DYE your hair!?"

Helpful Hint

Do not attempt to make pancakes in the shape of an animal you have never successfully drawn by hand.

Conflicting Signals

In the Hallway

An accident waiting to happen:

Another Change of Plans

After sitting at the airport for a few hours yesterday, Dr. H. came home and canceled his trip. No, his flight was not canceled, he just felt too sick to go. He hobbled in the door, looking like he was about to pass out any minute. He was alternating feeling feverish with chills. That's how I felt last weekend, when I was supposed to be finishing getting my classes ready after all this. My first day of classes went fine, albeit in a feverish haze. Dr. H, however, seems to be getting hit worse.

A few hours after he arrived home, I used my mom-thermometer (aka hand). The calibration chart I almost never actually use because I like the more objective instrumental readings looks something like this:

Hand: Maybe feverish - maybe not	Thermometer: not
Hand: Probably feverish	Thermometer: 99-100 F
Hand: Definitely feverish	Thermometer: 100-101 F
Hand: Wow, really feverish	Thermometer: 101-102 F
Hand: OMG!	Thermometer: > 102 F

A quick touch (I could hardly touch him, he was so hot) and we were clearly in the OMG range. Thermometer says: 103.7 F. Many discussions of the emergency room ensued (because of some accompanying symptoms as well). Eventually we settled on acetaminophen + urgent care the next day.

The PA was stunned he did not have pneumonia. But you know, it could always be on its way.

Ambiguity

Slush
Unpredictable, wet
Preschool is closed
Campus open, classes on
Imminent

Snow
Wet, slippery
Going home slowly
Classes met, others canceled
Intensifying

Storm
White, heavy
Spouse to conference
Flight still on time
Weird

A Change of Plans

Tuesday: Dalton gets sent home early from Daycare with a fever. Dr. H. picks up both kids and comes home early.

Wednesday: Dalton stays home with me. He seems better but tired. I get some stuff done - cleaning my home office which has been collecting junk and toys since Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, I feel sick too, so I am not moving very fast.

Wednesday night: Curie has a fever, which somehow went undetected at daycare.

Thursday: Curie wakes up with a horrible cough and stays home with me. We go into my office in the afternoon because I had to check in on things for Friday, when we are interviewing a candidate for a tenure-track position. I discover the Nick Jr website has full length Dora episodes on line. Curie happily sits at a computer in the lab's alcove while I clean the lab. Her cough is infrequent, but sounds awful. The fever from the evening before seems to have broken.

Thursday night: Uneventful until the midnight when Curie begins to cough on and off, waking up Dalton and Dr. H. every half hour or so. I'm a sounder sleeper than Dr. H. Eventually, though, she wakes me up too and I convince her to sleep semi-upright on a few pillows. We finally all get a few hours of sleep.

Friday: Kids wake up happy. A quick hand check of foreheads results in a maybe/maybe not diagnosis on the fever end. Maybe/maybe not via the hand check usually means no via thermometer, so I decide not to tempt fate and investigate further. Kids go to daycare with Dr. H., I go to campus to participate fully in the interview and dinner.

Friday night: Dr. H reports that Dalton slept for 3.5 hours at daycare and remained listless afterwards. They called him to pick up the kids a little early. He begins to feel awful himself. Kids are restless, develop fevers. Curie can't stop coughing. Dalton is really uncomfortable and hot. Cough medicine for one, ibuprofen for the other.

Saturday: Kids continue to have fevers. General repeat of previous night, only now Dr. H. feels even worse.

Sunday: Curie wakes up on the upswing, but still tired. Dr. H. can't breathe, can't really think and has two nosebleeds. Dalton has three nosebleeds and his fever hasn't gone away, but he does start eating again, so we are optimistic. He has trouble sleeping, announces "My ear hurts!" Okay, this sucks, but it explains a lot. Dr. H. can't sleep at all.

Monday early morning: We get up, decide Curie is able to go to daycare. She wants to stay home or go to work with me because she thinks then she will get to watch Dora. I call the pediatrician. Yes, 1:30 is their earliest appointment. I quickly run the cat with the treated UTI to the vet for a post-treatment urine sample and return home. Dr. H. leaves with Curie.

Monday mid morning: Dalton's ear hurts. A lot. I give him ibuprofen. After that kicks in we do a floor puzzle together then he goes off to play on his own. I decide to clean and organize the kitchen, because everything else I have to do I can't do with a child interrupting me every three minutes. In cleaning the kitchen, I discover a plastic bubble sheet of pills and determine that the cat was supposed to have two weeks of antibiotics, not one. I call the vet.

Monday afternoon: Dalton and I head out to the pediatrician. Yes, ear infection, antibiotics. We drop the script off at the drive through pharmacy next to Trader Joe's. We go shopping until the prescription is ready. We start to drive home. Crap! Forgot the cat. Back to the vet to pick her up. Graciously, they don't charge for the urine draw (already done by the time I called, bummer) or make me feel bad about being an idiot. Back home, Dalton takes his antibiotics and falls asleep on the couch.

Monday evening: Dr. H. finds NyQuil that expired in 2000. He decides to rummage further and finds some that didn't expire until 2006. He finally gets a decent night's sleep. The kids do too.

Tuesday morning: Smiles! Laughter! Running! Dr. H and I determine it is easier to get the kids dressed when they are sick. I get the leaking tire on my car fixed (nail) then finally get into the office around noon.

The problem? Call me crazy, but I was kind of planning on using this past week to prepare classes for the spring term. We start Monday. I still have three days of daycare this week. No problem.

Neighbors

I live in a cul-de-sac in a ridiculously typical suburb. It is a little snapshot of suburban life.

House 1: Anal Lawn Guy. Every street has one. He is the first one to mulch, to mow, to rake, to shovel. He makes the rest of us feel guilty look bad look bad and feel guilty. He and his wife have a grown son. The son, daughter-in-law and grandson lived with them for a few months recently while their house was being remodeled.

House 2: Middle aged quiet couple. We run into them once in a while at the video store or dry cleaners.

House 3: Newly divorced dad with occasional visits from three school-aged children. House was previously owned by mother of the man from House 2. She was quite elderly and passed away a few years ago.

House 4: Young couple with one six year old daughter. When our kids were a few months old, and their daughter was three, they babysat for us for two hours while we went on a tour at a local super-cool science facility. When we got back, the woman said "We are trying to have another baby. I think [husband] wants a boy." We walked in to their family room to find the husband with Dalton on his lap watching football. This couple has frequent parties. They are much younger than us. And much more popular.

House 5: Middle aged couple with two twenty-something aged children. The children sometimes live with the parents, and sometimes they don't, but the children (and their friends) are almost always at the parents' house. In a cruel cul-de-sac paradox, they have the shortest driveway, but the most cars.

House 6: A couple about our age with one child. They were almost as anal as Anal Lawn Guy, then they had a kid. Our children play together often. There son is quite large for his age, leading some people to be expect four year old behavior from his two year old brain. On more than one occasion people have said mean things to them about their child or their parenting. Our immediate outrage at this has brought us all closer together. The woman calls the city to complain about stuff they haven't done on our street: plowing, leaf pickup, potholes, that sort of thing. This is where having a somewhat anal neighbor pays off.

House 8: A woman with two teenagers, the younger of which we consider to be the source of the beer bottles in our back yard. The woman's new husband talks to Dr. H. He does not talk to me. I don't know why, except that perhaps he has figured out that I suspect he is a bit of a fictional storyteller. He has yet to tell Dr. H. he was once in the special forces, but I'm sure it is only a matter of time. The daughter was a great catsitter for awhile, giving our diabetic cat shots and doling out other feline medications as scheduled. She called us one summer when we were two states away to tell us that she had reconsidered and she couldn't watch our cats. Her explanation? She just "couldn't deal". We suspect pregnancy. Our friends from House 6 now watch our cats.

House 7: Us. Often overgrown with weeds, with the occasional burst of looking well cared for. When we first moved in, we painted the outside of our house, changing it from ugly to unremarkable, giving us some leeway with the neighbors. My recent major major accomplishment? After our recent snow, I shoveled our driveway in time to have the second cleared driveway in our cul-de-sac - right after Anal Lawn Guy of course. My classes have not started yet.

Friday Cat Blogging

Two cat-related comments, a little early for the traditional Friday:

1) Nothing I love more than cleaning up cat vomit within the first 24 hours after getting the rugs professionally cleaned.

2) Woke up thinking I had pink-eye. (bleh!) Immediately panicked regarding likely status of Dalton and Curie's eyes (read: infected and infectious) and the resulting consequences for daycare. In the end, it was not pink-eye, but rather a histamine-inducing feline sleeping on my head - unfortunately combined with an air filter set to "off" because certain three year olds like to push buttons.

No wonder

Our house is constantly a mess. At this point, we have given up on actually having a clean house, we just aim to keep it from being too disgusting so our neighbors don't call social services on us. We have been planning to hire a housecleaning service since the twins were born, but there has never been a moment when the house clean enough for long enough for me to be willing to bring them in for a quote.

My mom was here two weekends ago. We all had a great time and I was once again reminded that it is desirable for adults to outnumber children.

On Friday, after a long day of work, airport runs, cooking and kids, we got the kids in bed. My mother went to unpack. Dr. H and I immediately collapsed on the couch with our laptops. Me on my new Macbook, reading NYT articles and blogs; him on his Vaio, playing Kingdom of Loathing. A short time later, my mother begins to pick up the living room. I try to stop her, but she says "Well, I just thought it would be nice, you know, so everything is straightened when we come down in the morning."

Dr. H and I look at each other in amazement. Cleaning is almost never the first thing we think of once the kids are in bed.

"That explains a lot." I say, looking around at the squalor we call our home.

It made me think immediately of Emma Jane's observation that some people run their lives differently than others.

Friday Cat Blogging

My other set of twins:

This is not...

...what you want to see when you wake up when both you and your spouse teach class at 9:10 and your campuses are each about 25 miles away from home.




Fortunately, it quickly became apparent that a cat had walked across the clock, forwarding the time by two hours.