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And we’re back

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

IMG_0601 001 So, yeah, I was hacked. Seriously, grievously horribly hacked. And my host, with whom I switched due to their assurances of doing regular weekly and monthly deep dive backups of my database said “Whoa, wait a second… we meant, you know, when we felt like it. And we haven’t felt the urge to back up your blog since you migrated… huh, isn’t that weird? We didn’t think it had been so long but there you go. Sucks, dude.” Er, ok. So everything is gone. Everything. Well, not really everything, since I never actually deleted my archives when I was porting them over, just kept them on the cutsie little free blog site, and the stuff that was written directly onto WP is all preserved in sweet blessed Google cache. So we’ll rebuild. It will be stronger. Better. It did not kill us. And by “us” apparently I mean myself and also am anthropomorphizing the damned blog. But the first order of business is to get rid of this GOD AWFUL UGLY layout. Man. I apologize on behalf of WP 2.6.2. Because seriously, we could do better than this, right guys? Sigh. Back at you soon with a bunch of stuff. Until then, not dead. Not a whore. Just a little beaten up by technology.

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Back on the chain gang

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

As I mentioned in the previous entry, I got a job. Heather took umbrage with the fact that I buried the lede, and yes, true dat. I never pretended that I wasn’t a dirty little tease, Heather.

Here’s what happened: Sometimes I’m awesome in interviews (in high school, I actually placed gold for the interview category in Academic Decathalon every year) and sometimes my heart really isn’t into it, but I had read the job description and knew that it was practically modeled in the Shape O’Weetabix and I had a million anecdotes that pertained to the role, so I didn’t even break a sweat  when the recruiter called me for the screen and then called back to set up an interview with the hiring manager on last Monday, which I could tell that I rocked. Then the recruiter called back and asked if I’d be willing to talk to one of the people who would be a team member. Ah, the peer interview. I know of this peer interview thing, so I was confident that I had made it to probably the Final 3. We played phone tag a few times, and then on Thursday, while I was setting up our tag sale, I sat in grubby jeans in my office and had a delightful conversation with the team member that, as far as I could tell, was the best and most confident interview I have ever mustered.  Later that same day,  I found myself negotiating salary and benefits while standing in my garage, surrounded by tables full of old lamps and houseware rejects from the 90’s.  As if to further emphasize how excited they were to get me on board,  they asked if I could start on Monday. As in, 72 hours from that phone call. I checked my calendar for Monday and saw nothing more pressing than taking Ave for a walk at 9 am and then (fucking) laundry from 10 until I succumb to old age, I said “Sure, why not.”

The new gig is doing very many of the things I used to love about my old job, wearing a big Six Sigma sherriff’s hat and creating new processes and examining how people do things and when and where they make decisions based on which variables blahety blah blah conference callcakes. I know. It’s weird, but I kind of get off on statistics. The amazing thing is that it’s actually a much better job than I had before: I’m reporting directly into a Senior Vice President and am part of something that he has referred to several times as his “Senior Leadership Team”, a term that I would very much like bedazzled in rhinestones on a black baby tee, please.

There are lots of interesting nuggets about this new job: lots of travel, for instance. Belgium was mentioned, although with this economy and the fact that most companies are practicing something called “Travel and Expenditures Austerity”, I’ll believe it when my ass is nestled in a seat in Business Class on the next flight to Bruges. Also, on Tuesday and Wednesday, the SVP drove up from the home office just to have face-to-face introductions and also an intense overview of the team tenets and his philosophies, which are quite frankly, really refreshing, especially given the attitudes about business that I was accustomed to in my previous position. Also, I am really enjoying the new boss. He had me during the first staff meeting when, during a silent moment, he said “Bueller… Bueller” and I don’t say this often about coworkers and definitely not about bosses, but this is honestly the kind of guy that I would hang around with even if I weren’t being paid to do so.  In fact, I wonder if I would even be cool enough for his posse. He probably wouldn’t use the word “posse”.

Oh, the funny thing? I’m back at the same company that riffed me in January.

There I go, burying the lede again.

That’s been the oddest experience and honestly, amped up the first day jitters by about tenfold. I mean, it took some serious stones to walk back into the same building again. The riffing was, to say the least, confusing.  I had always been a strong performer and apparently had left a pretty intense shock wave when the news of my untimely departure hit the gossip circuits.  Carissa, a friend and new teammate, said yesterday, “We always assumed that when people were riffed, it was deadweight, like there was a reason, but then it was you. YOU! And that freaked a LOT of people out, myself included. We couldn’t make sense of it.” Well, that went for all of us.

However, sitting on Day 3, it’s honestly been amazingly (for lack of a better word) vindicating.  The SVP told me repeatedly how highly regarded I was by many people, and throughout the last few days, we’ve been interupted more than a few times by people who are coming in to express their excitement that I’m back and on this new initiative. And to be frank, the team is full of rock stars and I’m kind of amazed that I’m getting to call them peers.

So, there it is. The little bit of nastiness leftover from January (god, I hate January) has been mostly undone. I’m calling the time between January 21st and May 29th my “sabbatical” which is a much more pleasant and doesn’t bring to mind the dire mental gymnastics of “omg what am I going to do for money?” that happens when you’re watching a severance package slowly dwindle down to nada. Speaking of which, part of my return means that I had to give up the remainder of my severance package (for some reason, they don’t want to pay me double for a month, darn it) but I also come back with the full old-timer’s portion of vacation time. And the job is totally better than the last one, with a jump up the org chart, an amazing boss and a ton of new cred. And I already know where the bathrooms are.

However, the first person who says that bad things happen for a reason is going to get the finger.

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Welcome to Amland

Monday, June 1, 2009
img_5468 The photo has nothing to do with the entry whatsoever. I just really think my dog is cute. When we decided to start living more frugally sometime last year, one of my thoughts that I used to push away the little poor girl’s voice in my brain was this “That’s ok, you already have everything you could possibly want to be happy.” And that’s true, I do. I already have an amazing husband and friends and family, sure, whatever, but I also already had the important things too, like a 60 gig video iPod or a stable of designer purses waiting patiently for the correct season or a pile of unread books that ensure I could develop a black hole in my brain and no longer recognize the names Amazon, Barnes nor Noble for the next three to five years and I still wouldn’t lack for reading material. The universe decided that maybe I needed to feel my frugality a little more earnestly. First, I left my iPod in the pocket in seat 2A on a Virgin America flight between LA and SF. Two weeks later, I was getting out of my car and my iPhone slide gracefully out of my hoodie pocket, dropping a span of 28 inches to the ground, where the screen shattered as though it had been dropped from the Space Station.  Then I left pottery class one night and realized on the way home that I had left my Coach sunglasses in the studio, but when I returned two days later, they were gone. A few days after that, Esteban was walking past my car and noticed three very deep verical scratches in the back hatch and window, as though I had been keyed by a very anal-retentive vandal, or perhaps it was the mark of the X-Men’s Wolverine. The damage was so extensive that needed to replace a faceplate and the curved back window of my car. When you aren’t trying to be frugal and these things happen, you just don’t sweat it because it’s not a big deal. It’s just stuff. Stuff that you will replace. But when you’re being frugal, you have to determine how much you really use that stuff, how much you care about that stuff, whether there is less expensive stuff that can fill the hole left by your lost or broken stuff and you might maybe possibly even want to stamp your foot a little bit because damn it, you want your OLD stuff back, please, just as it was before the bad thing happened. Esteban loaned me his iPhone for a few weeks and then watched prices until he got a deal. I happened to be on Woot when they had a $99 iPod sale, so got a smaller version of my old, lost Bean (this one is called Sprout. The iPhone is still Recherche, because I just restored the old one’s brain onto the new unit. Handy, that.) The car damage was the cheapest to fix: we just called up the insurance guy and dropped the car off at the auto body shop for two days (and by we, I mean Esteban) and I am too cheap to buy myself a new pair of Coach sunglasses, because really. Really. Also, Jake bought me another pair of sunglasses that had arrived a week before I lost the pair at the pottery studio (or it was stolen, whatever). But this last thing really fucking hurts. You might even say it stings. Ricky Fitts seems to be experiencing demensia. Longtime readers will remember that Ricky Fitts is my Series 1 Tivo that we bought in, oh, 2001. I named him Ricky Fitts because he shows me everything that is beautiful. He lives in our bedroom and has a glorious 8 hours of storage, but only if you record on the Medium Quality setting. We were too cheap to buy Tivo’s lifetime deal for Ricky, thinking that he wouldn’t survive, so we’ve paid an egregious amount of money over the last 8 years to subscribe to Tivo’s schedule, but I just don’t care. I love Ricky Fitts and Ricky Fitts loves me. And now, Ricky Fitts is silent. We can play the few things that are recorded on his storage banks with no problem, but we can’t get our TV to play anything else. It’s possible that the cable is toast in the bedroom but Esteban is convinced that the more likely scenario is that Ricky Fitts has had a long and wonderful Tivo life but it’s time to take him to a farm where he can run around and be free, playing in the long grass with other Tivos. A farm that we can never visit because it’s far far away. I’m still keeping my fingers crossed, but damn it, Ricky, don’t you give up on me! You’re a fighter, not a quitter! Come back to me, baby! In other news, I got a job and my stint as an unemployed person has come to an end (although the frugality won’t), but that will have to wait until the next update.
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Nothing nothing nothing

Friday, May 8, 2009

img_2284

You’d think with all of this spare time on my hands, I’d be writing blog posts left and right. You’d think. And it’s not for lack of fodder, personal or otherwise. Weetacon was over a month ago and have I said a peep? I have not. And this past weekend, Jake was here and it was in a word, amazing. Between the wonderful Iron Horse Hotel, the tour of Taliesin, the road tripping across the state, introducing Jake to the Wisconsin experience known as a supperclub, laser tag with 8-year-olds, and then dancing all night to one of the best house mixes ever (but then, it could have been the copious amounts of Red Bull and Vodka consumed), it was an amazing time. Oh yes, and we saw The Killers too. That right there should tell you how much fun I had: when one of the best concerts I’ve ever attended becomes an afterthought.

This weekend, Kevin and Melinda are here, burning up some free Midwest tickets on a weekend with nothing in particular planned, other than lounging. Melinda has hinted that she’d like me to cook dinner for them, and since it was her birthday a few days ago, I can hardly demure. Between that and a freelance project, I expect that I’ll get very little done on the To Do list, but I’m posting it again, just to keep myself accountable.

If you like that kind of thing, it’s after the jump.

Office
•    Organize closet
•    Finish porting over old PC
•    Get PC out of here
Bedroom
•    Sock baskets
•    Goodwill clothes
•    Sort clothes that should be sold*
•    Clean garment steamer*
•    Clean off dresser top (mine)
•    Clean off dresser top (tall boy)
•    Steam and hang curtains
•    Put all books away
•    Reorg dresser drawers*
Other House Stuff
•    Pantry!
•    Spice Cupboard
•    Linen Closet (hall)
•    Clean breezeway
•    Frame Amy Casey print and hang
•    Attack area by basement stairs*
•    Attack other side of basement stairs*
•    Attack general open/disorganized area*
•    Deal with den’s light switch/outlet plates*
•    Wax and polish hardwood floors
•    Measure kitchen backsplash for tile
•    Measure countertop for soapstone
•    Boxes for cleaning out library
•    Prep library for transition to laundry room
•    Hang Jellyfish photos

Random
•    Frame diploma
•    Drop off cat food at Humane Society
•    Jincy appt for spaying (Fourth time’s the charm?)
•    Mail Jake his pottery/whatnot
•    Burn another photo DVD for David/Tyler, mail it
Blog/Internet
•    Deal with phpbb madness*
•    Fix RSS issue with Product Anarchy/TMB
•    Send Jenette survey/questionnaire
•    Finalize Blogher plans with Ozlem
•    Order/Design new business cards for blogs
•    Email PR people for Product Anarchy
•    Follow up on outstanding product reviews (S, J, M?)
•    Finish playing with Dearest Mabel auto posting
•    Setup Weetacon.com
•    Port over old Diaryland entries
o   2008
o    2007*
o    2006
o    2005
o    2004*
o    2003
o    2002
o    2001
o    2000
o    1999
•    Set up Myname.com with resume
•    Decide which, if any, short stories will be made available on site

Weetacon
•    Tentative dates for Weetacon 2010?*
•    Dates for Rehab 2009*

Work Crap
•   Send resume to outsourcing person, finish elevator speech (blech)
•    Final expense report to ex-employer

Travel
•    Hotel for Writer’s Conference in DC
•    Girl’s Camping details*
•    Hotel for Blogher
•    Plane tickets for LA Tiki party for July 4*

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You can take the girl out of the Fatosphere, but you can’t take the Fatosphere out of the girl

Monday, April 6, 2009

June and the BluBlockers

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been taking a pottery class. In fact, I finished a session and have actual pottery to show for it. I’d show you a photo, but in reality, it looks exactly like what your kindergarten kids bring you home for Mother’s Day. There are some misshapen bowls, an interesting vase, and a votive holder that represents my first successful wheel throwing, and other than that, nothing other than a few plates and something everyone keeps calling “the ashtray” (it’s not an ashtray, but yeah, it does look like an ashtray). I signe

d up for another session with the pottery dude and brought June along. Of course, she’s cranking out amazing sculptures and giving the rest of the novices in the class inferiority complexes. Hell, if I didn’t know better, she’d be giving me one too, but I already know that you do NOT mess with June when it comes to art because she will show you up without breaking a sweat, so just give up now and spare yourself the pain.

June, unlike me, is a friendly person around strangers. She talks to people. She engages conversations. And because I’ve taken the class already, sometimes when the pottery dude is busy, she’ll ask me questions. And because she’s so friendly, her new pottery friends assume that her daughter-in-law must likewise be friendly. Oh, silly silly pottery class. However, they’ve started asking me questions too, since I apparently know the drill, and they like to watch me work on (and fail upon) the wheel. One day, while we were working on our clay, a lady who is probably around June’s age and also wears plus-size, was telling everyone about someone who was tall and thin and she looked at me conspiratorially and said “And that’s why we have to hate her, right?”

Normally I would just say something like “uh-huh” or let the comment breeze past, but I managed to say, completely without judgment in my voice. “Nope, I don’t have to hate her at all. Not one bit.” The lady looked at me quizzically and I then realized that I was stepping into sanctimonious size acceptance speech territory but I risked it anyway and continued, “I figure that I don’t want anyone hating on me for MY body, so why would I hate on her for her body?” I watched her without seeming to watch her, trying to not make it a big deal, but she stopped and looked at me and said, “Wow, that’s a goooood point. Huh.”

I hate reading blog entries like that, blog entries where the writer comes off as some kind of sage-like presence in the world, so I hesitated to relay that anecdote, but what I’m most struck by is that I wasn’t just saying a line. I honestly and truly have lost my malice for the beautiful people. I don’t know why that is: maybe it’s because I know that they can be just as fucked up as the rest of us, or maybe because I can appreciate the sacrifices some of them have to make to keep flying so close to physical perfection (and more deeply, understand that I am not willing to sacrifice time with my friends and family in order to work out…. probably not a good decision on my part, but one that I have made with or without saying it out loud) or maybe it’s because I am now understanding that our society has done a grievous misdeed somewhere or the other when it comes to body image and we’re raising a society of people for whom thoughts and actions no longer matter but rather whether or not you can measure up to some impossible beauty ideal.

It might be the decreased cortisol levels from my lack of job stress, but I think I’m done with apologizing to myself and to others about the size of my ass. I know that scientists have measured that body satisfaction can be decreased simply by looking at images of skinny models, but I wonder if the scientists have looked at different age groups for their study. At what point do we stop carrying what anyone thinks? And if it hits me in my late 30s, can we bottle this paradigm and start serving it at middle school cafeterias?

Can you imagine where the world would be had Madame Curie wasted a ton of energy worrying about the circumference of her thighs?

little girls bubbles

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The plus-size fashion soap box (and more lavish praise for Igigi’s spring line)

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Oh my lovelies, the day is here, the day is here! Remember on my last impromptu trip to SF, I got a sneak peak at Igigi’s spring line? Well, those designs are now available for purchase on Igigi’s site and I can now share the pictures that I snagged. Here you can see the prototype of the Emelina dress, which is so completely ready for the middling transition months between winter and summer. I honestly love how you could wear this design year round, with either strappy sandals or maybe some thick tights and glossy boots.  The fabric is a winner here, as it’s very soft and that awesome Igigi non-wrinkle stuff that they use on many of their designs. Plus? The stretch-linen skirt has pockets. Awesome!

And remember the print that I was salivating over? I loved it so much that I had to take a photo of the giant bolt (this is the “wrong” side of the fabric, it’s actually much more vibrant than it appears in this photo). Here it is as a dress and as a top, all of which have just been released today. Can I rave a little more about this fabric? I love the pop of citron amidst all of the greys and blacks. I am seriously drooling over the dress, and I fear that the photos don’t show what an unexpected pop of color it has. I mean, I totally admit that I’m a huge Igigi cheerleader (they don’t pay me to rave about their clothes, I promise (teehee…why buy the cow when you’re getting the milk for free?)) but sometimes Yuliya kicks out designs that absolutely cut me to the core with abject want. As I’ve mentioned before, the Jackie dress did that to me, and despite the fact that I am not a print person (AT ALL, much to my personal assistant and fashion advisor’s dismay), I am absolutely stunned by the beauty of this fabric. We don’t get awesome prints as plus-size girls, ladies (Kiyonna has been kicking out a few winners, specifically a chartreuse and grey print that sold out in about four minutes flat last spring, but their quality is sometimes wanting, their site is harder to navigate (no size searches, which is crucial when they have such small runs) and sadly, their sizing is all over the place) so I’m unapologetic for heralding this release.

And also, free shipping on orders of $150 or more, until the end of April! Recessionista much? Seriously, check this out. You know you’re dying inside, right?

One of the things I love about Igigi is that Yuliya designs for the hotness, but she also designs awesome business wear too. I don’t know about you, but I kind of loathe the quality at Lane Bryant (in that there is none), and the only real other options are the Avenue (which is, you know, ok, but definitely is hit or miss) and Catherine’s, which is fantastic if you want to dress like your seventh grade math teacher (And let’s be honest here: I love love love Catherine’s tights and hosiery like I love my luggage and it’s absolutely THE place to go if you need a Cat-On-A-Hot-Tin-Roof slip or something like my Iron Maiden foundation slip thingy, but no one ever accused Catherine’s of being fashion-forward. In fact, if you’re lucky, you can find a design or two in the racks that is so out of touch with Fashion Week that it’s now retro, thinks like leopard-print raincoats or dresses with giant circle skirts).

I know, I rant about plus-size fashion a lot on here (and more on Elastic Waist, may it rest in peace, or at least Google Cache) but how hard is it to make a suit that looks like something you wouldn’t feel ashamed to wear in public? Apparently very hard, because I’ve found maybe four in the last ten years, yet how kick ass is the Marcela set of separates? And I’ve felt the material:  it’s got a super-toney touch to it and unlike many plus-size business options, it doesn’t feel like you bought your suit at the Dollar Store (such as the dreck that comes from Jessica London or Roamans, which I swear gives me a rash from all the petrochemicals embedded in the fibers of the $59 “wardrober” that comes in fourteen different colors).

I’ve heard some comments from fellow Fatshionistas that Igigi is priced out of their range, which is possible (especially in this economy). I admit that the first time I bought a shirt from Igigi in 2002, I thought of it as a splurge for a designer shirt. In truth, I think we’ve also become so accustomed to the cheapass world of plus-size clothing (ie. Roaman’s, Jessica London, Fashion Bug, anything at Walmart) that when we’re experiencing sticker shock when we see something that is reasonably priced. Compare Igigi’s pricing to the stuff at Banana Republic or J. Crew and you’ll see that it’s practically the same price points, if not a little more affordable. When you consider the quality and the designer work (Um, you think you’re going to see something like the Emma Halter Lace dress at the Gap? With that amazing petticoat sticking out of the skirt at the bottom? I am DROOLING), you’re now flying in the same category as Ralph Lauren, DKNY or FCUK, except that Igigi is more affordable (and has killer sales on a fairly regular basis).

If Igigi maintained the same quality as Old Navy, then sure, I would expect them to price accordingly, but they don’t. And Old Navy has cheap thin-ass t-shirts that sometimes fall apart after four washings and the garments are sewn in overseas sweatshops while Igigi’s work is all done in San Francisco by employees who receive a fair wage. We all know that it’s not apples to apples, right?

Sorry, I know I’m on a soap box here, but if we keep kvetching about pricing and refusing to invest in our pieces, then we’re telling the designers that yes, fat girls don’t deserve fine fashion, which means that we don’t get to whine when people like Karl Lagerfeld refuses to kick out designs above a size 10. We’re telling the industry that no, we’d rather buy 10 shoddy t-shirts that will end up in landfills than invest in one well-made garment that will look new and last for five or more years. You vote with your dollars, peeps, and I’m as guilty as anyone for buying Old Navy (and in fact, I’m wearing a sweater from there right now as I’m typing this) but I also understand that if you want high quality fashion, you’ve got to be willing to pay for it. And honestly, I believe that the moment that there are Dior or Chanel-grade fashions available for the plus size market, we’ll have made tremendous steps toward true Size Acceptance.

And that will be not a moment too soon.

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Much ado about To Do Lists

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Humph?

Oy vey, the To Do list is threatening my existence. I’m so behind, mostly because I’ve spent the last two weeks sitting on said behind, babysitting the puppy. However, the realization that I’ve been remis in her crate training has come with a little extra time for me to do non-puppy activities, so hopefully I’ll be able to play catch up.

I’m writing today, or rather, procrastinating. I’ve got an actual idea in my actual head, something that hasn’t happened in months, nay, a year. Since whenever it was that I finished my last writing workshop. Do other fiction writers have that issue? No, they are probably way more disciplined than I am. Anyway, I’ve got an idea and a start on what I hate to describe as the N-word, but yeah, something significantly longer than a short story. What’s weird is that I’ve actually got two Significantly Longer Than A Short Story ideas floating around in my brain. I wish the plots were at all compatible because I’d totes combine those babies and kill two birds with one stone, but sadly, there’s no way to combine a zombie/shark story with a time-travel/altered history story, right? Not without some serious bleeding from the ears, anyway.

In other excitement, very predictably the rising temperatures and longer days has awoken my home improvement maniac. It’s a double-edged sword because I have ample time to get stuff done right now, but it’s paired with the fear of spending any money whatsoever. However, the spill down the stairs along with a bout of pneumonia left me pining for a first floor laundry like Ward & June’s, which was so unbelievably awesome to use while they were in Cancun, and almost made me remove the (fucking) prefix to the word “laundry” (I said ALMOST). However, in talking to Ward, it’s apparently not that big of a deal to move the connections around, especially since what is our library/spare room is currently directly above where the washer and dryer sit in the basement anyway. Esteban is uber against this move, since he’s got his entire book collection in the library, but then I pointed out that I managed to put all of my books in my office, which is the smallest room in the house, meanwhile his office is the second biggest room in the house (and was the original master bedroom, before they put on the addition in the 60’s), so does he really need to have TWO rooms? Also, it’s not like he’s doing the laundry, and I suspect there are months that go by without him ever venturing into the basement.

In other words, suck it up, monkey boy.

Actually, I’m really torn about the whole thing. It seems such a shame to devote an entire room to our little bungalow to what is essentially a uni-task, but on the plus side, we’ve been talking about turning that room into an extra bathroom and cutting a hole in the wall so that we’ll have an easier route to a bathroom when we’re in the bedroom (currently it’s about 57 feet (and two puppy gates) to a toilet from our bed, which means that when you get back from a late night bathroom visit, you’re pretty much wide-fucking-awake). On the minus side, we’re losing any hope I ever had for having a guest bedroom. It was a feeble attempt anyway, because when we have guests stay over now, they end up getting a blow-up mattress (which Jincy used to sharpen her claws and is now a deflated, pointless piece of rubber) stuffed between a treadmill and a bookcase full of books about wizards and robots. The long term plan is to turn it into a laundry room / extra bathroom, similar to the situation at Ward and June’s but for right now, it’s going to house the (fucking) laundry machines and a treadmill. We’re still not sure what to do with Esteban’s books, but I’m hoping that I can consolidate them into his office without having to store some elsewhere. Here’s hoping, anway. So that’s what’s on deck for the immediate future.

That and finding some source of income, of course. There’s always that.

If you’re the kind that loves list, I’ve posted an updated version of the To Do list after the jump. I’ll be wiping off the completed items (and at least two of the things that are crossed off ended up being abandoned) but I do enjoy seeing the items crossed off. It makes me feel a little less like a complete slacker.

Everything with a * is in progress.

Office
•    Clean off desk
•    Fix Printer
•    Pick up floor
•    Clean off recliner
•    Organize bookshelves
•    Organize closet
•    Closet Doors!!! (sand/paint/reinstall)
•    Finish porting over old PC
•    Get PC out of here
Bedroom
•    Pick up garbage
•    Pick up all dirty laundry
•    Sock baskets
•    Goodwill clothes
•    Sort clothes that should be sold*
•    Clean garment steamer*
•    Clean off dresser top (mine)
•    Clean off dresser top (tall boy)
•    Steam and hang curtains
•    Put all books away
•    Shoe sorting
•    Refold racks
•    Reorg dresser drawers*
•    Flip mattress
Other House Stuff
•    Pantry!
•    Spice Cupboard
•    Linen Closet (hall)
•    The horrifying office of the man of the house (save until last)
•    Clean breezeway
•    Frame Amy Casey print and hang
•    Attack area by basement stairs
•    Attack other side of basement stairs
•    Attack general open/disorganized area
• Clean out den
•    Move cat box and cat’s food/water into kitchen (puppy-proof)
•    Deal with den’s light switch/outlet plates
•    Wax and polish hardwood floors
•    Measure kitchen backsplash for tile
•    Measure countertop for soapstone
•    Boxes for cleaning out library
•    Prep library for transition to laundry room
•    Hang Jellyfish photos

Random
•    Clean out car
•    Valentine CDs*
•    Package and mail back return items
•    Cancel Wine Club
•    Deal with Product Anarchy Forums*
•    Return Kate Spade purse
•    Get cedar chest from parents house
•    Call About diploma
•    Frame diploma
• Cancel milk delivery
•    Reduce Netflix
•    Drop off cat food at Humane Society
•    Finish David & Tyler’s Wedding Pictures
•    Jincy appt for spaying (Fourth time’s the charm?)
•    High School reunion website/planning meeting on Sunday
Blog/Internet
•    Deal with phpbb madness*
•    Fix RSS issue with Product Anarchy/TMB
•    Send Jenette survey/questionnaire
•    Finalize Blogher plans with Ozlem
•    Order/Design new business cards for blogs
•    Email PR people for Product Anarchy
•    Follow up on outstanding product reviews (S, J, M?)
•    Finish playing with Dearest Mabel auto posting
•    Upload html to Weetacon.com
•    Send email to Chadwick
•    Port over old Diaryland entries

  • 2008
  • 2007*
  • 2006
  • 2005
  • 2004*
  • 2003
  • 2002
  • 2001
  • 2000
  • 1999

•    Set up Myname.com with resume
•    Decide which, if any, short stories will be made available on site

Weetacon
•    Bags for charity raffle
•    Referee/Judges items
•    Attendee hats
•    Decorations
•    Program (Shawn will print/bring)
•    Deal with medal situation
•    Foam board
•    Bus contract/revise
•    Confirm with Sleigh Ride people
•    Money to June for food
•    Make logos
•    Name tag brilliance
•    Finish game plan (ha!)
•    Call Dycksville Bowl
•    Put coats and spare gloves in Steve’s truck for sleigh ride
•    Order more medals
•    Send donation addresses/amounts to Paul’s Pantry
•    Make/Edit video and upload to Youtube/Facebook/Blog*
•    Tentative dates for Weetacon 2010?

Work Crap
•    Make Appt with Outsourcing Person
•    Clean off old computer
•    Get personal items from office/clean out desk
•    Bring Amy book for camera
•    Cancel Corporate Credit Card
•    Update resume
•    Update Linked In
•    Send email to Brandon re:Shine
•    Order new cards (personal)
•    Send resume to outsourcing person, finish elevator speech (blech)
•    Final expense report to ex-employer
Travel
•    Hotel for Writer’s Conference in DC
•    Make arrangements (dates/bus/hotel/etc) for Camp Rehab*
•    Girl’s Camping details
•    Hotel for Blogher
•    Plane tickets for LA Tiki party for July 4

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what to expect when you're expecting a puppy

Sunday, March 29, 2009

In a half-awake moment of clarity this morning, I realized that my own obsessive-compulsive need for perfection has been preventing me from updating my blog. You see, I have a Weetacon entry to write, and another one about the state of my To Do list, and then another one to talk about how the transition from Cat Household to Cat + Pug Household has been, but you know what? I’m just going to bareback this baby and go in for the kill with what’s happening right now. Almost like Twitter, but no character limit! Weird!

So far, Aveline has basically changed my life, in that I now sit in the living room with my laptop during the day rather than in my office because the office hasn’t been puppy-proofed and has a much nicer hardwood floor and I suspect any puppy accidents would cause me to weep, whereas the living room floor has been already given “character” through numerous scuffs and one rather mysterious 12-inch gouge. In twelve days, there have been four accidents, which is actually pretty optimistic, considering how many times various fluids and semi-solids are coming out of this puppy. Just as I was typing that, she threw up on a couch pillow. Clearly I need to cut back on the size of the “positive reward” treats that she gets for successful outside potties. And yes, I’m baby-talking to the dog.

Jincy has decided that Aveline is the best and most fascinating toy we’ve ever given her. Between the tasty new soft food that she can steal from Ave’s bowl or the appearance of totally attackable stuffed animals, Jincy has been entirely hip to the puppy. There have been several episodes of domination, but Ave is standing her own and they’ve now started playing with each other. Jincy is a lot better at the play-attacks and a million times more flexible, so she can usually grab Ave from behind and bite the hell out of her. Ave wiggles out of the hold and then knocks Jincy off her feet. They’ve been kind of crazy.

The only downside to this is that we’ve been crate-training the puppy. We started by copying Ward and June and placing the crate under my bedside table. The puppy was cool with it, but on night 1, she was still terrified of Jincy, who enjoyed the idea that she could mock-attack the puppy or whack the side of the cage to wake her up and make her whimper. We didn’t want to just lock Jincy out of our bedroom and further increase any resentment, so Esteban took Jincy and slept on the chaise the first night, hoping that it would get better as the puppy got used to the cat. This is a good theory, but basically the puppy learned that when the cat looked at her and her eyes got big, then it was t-minus three seconds to getting totally pummelled. After the third night of Esteban on the chaise with Jincy, we needed to come up with a better solution.

Ward and June employed the use of a baby playpen for their puppy, which they had offered for Aveline’s use. We had the idea that we could put the crate inside the playpen, so that Jincy couldn’t actually touch the crate and wouldn’t be able to see the puppy as well. Brilliant! However, their playpen was jammed and wouldn’t apparently fold, and was about two inches too wide to make it through a door. After struggling for 30 minutes, we ended up taking the door off the hinges. Then the puppy could still see Jincy glowering at her from the other side of the netting, so we had to put up a cardboard blind system on TOP of the loose towel we had over the crate.

Then the cat jumped over the walls and directly into the playpen. Ahh.

Puppy Containment System v1.5 involved a card table resting on top of the playpen, along with a giant fleece blanket stuffed into the opening that wasn’t covered by the card table. Excellent. It worked for about four days, until one night, Ave wouldn’t stop whimpering after she had been put to bed. Normally, she goes in without a peep and only whimpers if she had to go outside, which she just had, so it wasn’t that. I finally lifted the card table to try taking her out again, and was shocked to find Jincy sitting in front of the crate, taunting the puppy by rattling the door. It seems that I hadn’t evenly folded the blanket, so she was able to push her way in at the corner. FUCKING HELL.

Puppy Containment System v.1.7 involved two extra pieces of cardboard blocking the top, covered by the blanket. Jincy, sensing a weakness in the system, has taken to lying on top of the cardboard portion, but so far, it has held. Needless to say, taking the puppy out for her middle-of-the-night-piddle and putting her back is not really something I can do in my sleep. There’s got to be a better way that doesn’t involve shutting the dog away from the cat, but I’ve not found it. Any suggestions, commenters?

Ave also has a daily play date with June’s dog, Cricket. It took three days to go from Ave having extreme terror to chasing Cricket around the living room. Cricket is apparently a little jealous but she seems to really love the fact that she’s got a playmate. Cricket and Ave weigh about the same right now, but Cricket is almost twice as tall (poodle legs) and about a million times faster, to the point where she can literally run circles around Ave but they seem to have fun. Ave has yet to bark at their house, but I think it’s because Cricket barks nonstop while they are playing so Ave can’t get a word in edgewise. We’ve all known people like that. Their last two playdates lasted more than two hours of continuous playtime. I’m going to start bringing my laptop, because I’ve basically gotten little to no work done on anything since we’ve gotten this puppy. At home, I’m more or less glued to the sofa or the floor, playing either ball-thrower (she fetched on the first attempt) or referee and when she’s napping, I can either shut her up in the bedroom (where I can’t hear her) or let her sleep in the doggy bed, where I have to keep an eye on her to make sure that she doesn’t decide to make a deposit behind the chaise. I have never before had so much sympathy for parents’ of newborns, because wow, you guys, at least I can throw her in a cage and go to Target.

I’m probably babying the dog too much.

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Bouncing baby girl

Thursday, March 19, 2009

We’ve made an addition to our household. Aside from the cat toys and missing socks that are apparently lurking under the chaise. (Wow, the things you discover when you set a video camera at floor level!)

Internet, meet Aveline Pearl (pronounced “AH-vah-leen”).

Sorry, the quality is crap, because it was basically taken with the webcam on my laptop, which was sitting on the floor. As for the puppy, Jincy thinks that she’s pretty much the best cat toy we’ve brought home so far. Needless to say, I’ve gotten exactly zero freelance projects done in the last two days that we’ve had her. But how many of those freelance projects pay me in surprise pug kiss attacks? I’m pretty sure that none of them do.

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The spring Igigi fashion montage

Thursday, March 12, 2009

For a plus size clothes whore like myself, the privilege of being invited to the Igigi headquarters and meeting Yuliya and Ozlem on multiple occasions is a bit like a standard size fashionista being asked into the salon of Prouenza Schouler for a private fitting with the masters. I do not know what I’ve done in previous lifetimes to be so blessed in this one, but I have to pat that former me on the shoulder because girl (or boy, or camel) done good.

Last time I was in San Francisco, I was overcome by wedding stuff and didn’t get to stop down to say “hey”, so this visit, I made no serious plans other than lunch with Igigi marketing guru, Ozlem. I got a call from Laura while driving into the city, inquiring as to my lunch plans, and I explained that I was busy, but if she wanted to tag along, I was sure that Ozlem wouldn’t mind. As it turned out, Ozlem and Laura had a total “small world” moment and knew lots of the same people, so it was a total Sex And The City lunch. When lunch was over, Ozlem asked if I had time to come back to the Igigi HQ and check out the newly released designs, as well as get a sneak peak at the designs to come for summer. Uh, twist my arm!

The thing with me and Igigi is that it’s a lot like preaching to the choir. I would honestly own 70% of any given collection if I had the funds and the closet space. Take for instance, the Igigi Jackie dress. I bought it for La Wade’s wedding, but then it must have been hiding in my gigantic pile of darks (yes, I wear way too much black. Blame the Cure and my impressionable teens) and when they say “Dry Clean Only” with that one, they MEAN it and they especially don’t intend for you to wash said Jackie with a load of darks, using special darkness-enhancing detergent. Derrr. The wrap portion of the dress survived without a problem but the beautiful ivory silk dupioni turned into a crinkly shade of pukey lavender. It was my own fault and I was so mad at myself about the whole thing, because I seriously was way in love with that dress and I had only worn it ONE TIME. I whined and whimpered about the dress for weeks, until Esteban finally thrust $150 at me and said “Would you just BUY another one? Because you know that they’re going to sell out and then you’ll regret it forever.” So I did and now I own two, the pretty one and Ms. Hyde, which will never see the light of day.

So the moment we walked into the Igigi marketing office and were faced with rows upon rows of dresses, it was a bit like walking into my ideal closet. In fact, I was probably a bit obnoxious pointing out the Igigi items that I already own. I cannot help it! The stuff fits! It fits well! The cut of the dresses accommodates my rack without having to upsize to the point that the shoulder seams are hanging halfway down my arm, and many of the dresses pack like an absolute dream, to the point where you can seriously wad them up in a suitcase and they shake out ready to wear. But wandering through the Igigi workrooms, watching a man with a little quality tool thingy test each and every button on each garment and check for loose threads, you really get the intense understanding of how much care and attention goes into making these fashions. And then you think about how every single thing for Igigi is done by people in San Francisco, from the cutting to the making to the shipping and model action, and you start really hating places like Walmart, that sell gross plus-size fashion made in overseas sweatshops for half the price, and the stuff ends up costing more because it falls apart or starts looking schlubby after just a few washings.

Ozlem had already pulled a few new things in my size to try on, just for fun, and pulled some items for Laura too. We checked out the Mademoiselle Silk Scarf Top with the pencil skirt, which is the same gorgeous fabric that doesn’t wrinkle, and a great cut. I suspect that it doesn’t translate in photos as well as it did in person, because it was totally one of those things that random women on the street would say “Oooooh, cute top!” when you passed by. And the two silk scarves that are included are exquisite quality. The non-print purple-y scarf has got this amazing iridescent quality to it, which I loved because it coordinated without being matchy matchy.

The Celine dress was SO beautiful and trendy, with the Mandarin collar tie. I already knew that the Igigi princess cut works great with my shape (and I own that one in pink AND blue) so of course, I loved it. The Coco Tailored Dress is exactly the thing for the girl who tries in vain to find vintage looks in plus sizes. What you can’t see in the photos is that the contrast trim is a very cool, chunky woven material that would be totally at home on the set of Mad Men.

The Chantal…. oh the Chantal. Imagine liquidy gold fabric peeking out from an exquisite lace overlay, complete with a matching satin tie. If Mad Men suggested that women are either Marilyn or Jackie, this dress is DEFINITELY a Marilyn. If I were the kind of girl who felt comfortable with tanks and having my upper arms exposed, I would be slowly caressing this dress as I am typing this up right now, and even with my insecurities, I was in love enough to walk out of the dressing room and do a little spin in front of the 3-sided mirror. I wish I had the moxie to pull that dress off, quite honestly, because it does not deserve to be hidden behind a shrug.

And then I got to the Gabriella, which I started calling Sailor Moon. I suspect that had the Gabriella not looked good on me, I was going to burst into tears, because I love the contrast piping on this garment so damned much, but Yuliya’s tender touch with the female form shines through and it drapes in what has become Igigi’s signature strength. The giant buttons are fun and quirky and it is, as Laura suggested during our fashion montage, a total interview dress. However, I think paired with a bright bag, a giant pair of sunglasses and some kicky flats, the Gabriella is every bit of a Saturday shopping spree dress too. Laura and I both ended up taking Gabriellas home with us, complete with mutual squees.

Oh, but that was not the best part, Igigi lusters! You see, I also got a peek at some designs that will be coming in late March and early April. One piece was so hot-off-the-presses that Ozlem had snatched it away from the seamstresses so that we could get a look, and the sleeves weren’t even finished yet. Even in the raw form, I am very excited about what is to come from Igigi in the next few months.

I’ve been sworn to secrecy, but I can tell you this: total structured cuteness with exciting lines and amazing silhouettes, and there is a print that actually made me salivate. Yuliya told me that it will be used on at least two designs, one that I saw half-completed (so beautiful) and one that is still on the drawing board. The material is soft and luscious and the colors are straight off of Fashion Week’s palette. When I get the “Okay” from Ozlem, I can share pictures of the pieces in progress, but until then, you’ll just have to take my word for it: Igigi has totally got you covered this summer.

And double bonus: last year, Igigi sponsored a fashion giveaway for readers of BFD, which resulted in some major fashion awesomeness at Blogher last July. Well, I can’t give anything away but you can expect to see some Weetabix + Igigi=4Eva goodness at Blogher Chicago this July as well.

Are you going? Do you love, nay COVET Igigi? Let me know in the comments or e-mail.

So many people who wear plus sizes get sick of staring at the same gross colors and super boring Church Lady clothes. It’s like it’s some kind of judgment sent down by the fashion industry that fat girls aren’t good enough or possibly that fat girls could never possibly be beautiful so why even try? I mean, Tracy Reese is a plus size woman and yet she cannot even wear her own spring line. What’s up with that?! It starts to get a little depressing, absorbing all of that second- and -third class citizen attitude. I know that’s not the case. We all know this.

But after our fashion montage with Ozlem and the Igigi staff, I was on a fashion high for the rest of the week. I stomped around in my knee high black patent leather boots and mulberry Igigi wrap dress (bought on clearance at the end of summer! Recessionista!) and when I passed by a guy who said “Damn, girl! I’d like me some of that.” (I’m not making that up, that was verbatim) I didn’t sneer at him or think he was being ironic, but rather just took his statement at fact. I was, in fact, worthy of a “Damn, girl!”

Thankfully, Igigi understands that.

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