Bethanie's Brain

First, let me apologize for the title of this project. For some inexplicable reason, I despise the word 'nook' (it invariably makes me think of a really annoying real estate agent) and I would not use it to describe this project except that I cannot seem to think of anything better. Gah! Second, I've been thinking about doing this for a while now. I have my desk and 'my' chair in the living room, but as writing space neither of these really work. The desk usually has work stuff, bills or kid toys all over it. The chair is often buried in laundry, for one thing, and I can see the TV out of the corner of my eye when I sit in it, for another. Plus, I don't have any of my research notes or books within reach there. By far, the biggest problem, however, is that both the desk and the chair are right in the middle of Chaos Central (a.k.a., the living room), and nobody really buys the mommy-isn't-really-here-right-now thing. I need someplace (relatively) quiet...

New Post Category: I have decided to make myself accountable for the things I want to get done around the house by posting each project and its associated details here. Sort of an online To Do list. Boring for you, perhaps, but if my list of tasks is right there in front of me, I tend to get it done. It works for work-work: So I figured why not give it a try. I can add progress photos and strike off completed items. It'll be like motivation sorta. I'll post the first project later today.

ER. As in E mergency R oom. As in the REAL Emergency Room. As in that's where I spent last evening with The Husband and poor, little Ms. Baby. It was just a bit surreal. And scary. Yeah, it was definitely scary. Although I have to say, the scariest part was before we ever left the house. Ms. Baby had been vomiting every 2-8 minutes for 7 hours straight - that's not the scary part, that's the gross part - and her pediatrician said if she seemed at all lethargic (she did) that we should just go ahead and take her to the ER. That was the scary part - being whacked over the head with 'YES, something really is very wrong with your baby'. I went sort of numb. Then I was on autopilot: pack the diaper bag, grab extra washclothes and towels for Ms. Baby to puke in, check that my insurance card was in my wallet. We're only a 2 minute drive from the hospital, so the next thing I knew I was hustling through raindrops, filling out an intake form and trying to find a pl...

Anybody know anything about Mozy ?? Mozy provides a backup service - i.e., they store all your important documents (for a fee, of course) and has just started offering a discount to faculty, staff and students of Fabulous, Private University if we sign up for a 1 or 2 year contract. I've never heard of them, but it seems like a good deal. I was going to buy an external hard drive and all that jazz, but this seems worlds easier. And cheaper (and cheaper is always good, right?). Worth it? Anyone know? Alternatively, does anyone know how to pronounce it?

(Or: QUIT IT - That Funky-Motion Camera Thing is NOT COOL ) First, let me say this: I get motion sickness really easily. Really easily. I cannot sit in the back seat of a car without keeping a constant watch out the front window. I cannot sit in the back of a bus. I can't even sit sideways on a bus (Some of the shuttle buses at Fabulous Private University are set up like this. When I see them coming, I walk instead). And if you didn't think any of the above qualifies me as motion sickness impaired: there are certain TV shows that I cannot watch because they do this funky thing with the camera where they jerk it all over the place. The camera people, apparently, think they're really clever. It makes me puke. Now The Husband - who does NOT get motion sickness (like, ever, as far as I can tell) - thinks this makes me certifiably insane. (He also thinks this means his mother, my mother and his sisters are certifiably insane. Right. Clearly. It's just us. All of us...

Heart-Shaped Pancakes. Just cuz'.

I just cut 130,000 words from Novel #1. One hundred and thirty thousand words. That I wrote. Deemed useless and gone. I'm starting over with the plot. Right from square one. It's like taking a pair of scissors to a sweater you just finished knitting and methodically shredding it because you've realized it's not so much a sweater as it is a huge, misshapen, unraveling mess. Now usually with a huge, misshapen mess of a sweater, you just rip out what you've knit and start over. Or stuff the misbegotten thing in a plastic bag, shove it into the back of a dark closet and try to forget it ever existed. Sometimes, thought, you actually plan on taking scissors to a sweater. It's called steeking , an intentional scissors-to-sweater technique used in the construction of Norweigian and Fair Isle sweaters. The steek is a well planned thing - its edges are sutured off long before the scissors appear ( well, usually ). After the deed is done, new stitches are picked up a...