"Moove!"

Posted by He Said

I don't normally post work related content, but this was something I felt was longer than a facebook post and deserved some space here.

I returned from a trip to the new local Human Bean coffee house to find this IM message on my screen from a fellow in the art department.  Let's call him Fred.

Fred: "I'm getting an error in my AlienBrain program, can you come help me?"

Because I'm lazy, I didn't head over.  I figured he could at least tell me the error.

Me: "What's the error?"

Fred: "It says something about out of memory?"

Now remember, I said ART department. These people think that the word "memory" and "hard drive" can be used interchangeably and that using a web browser can be difficult. Yes. I'm making fun of them.  I have an art degree, and I know how to use a computer, so I am allowed. I'm not saying they are dumb.  I think they like to PLAY dumb. They like people to do shit for them because they are the "creative force."

I hear more times during the day than I care to count how I am asking them to be too "technical".  Have you ever tried to use a 3D program like Modo, or Maya?  You need to learn Klingon just to read the manual.

Me: "Does it say you are out of memory or that your hard drive is full?"

Fred: "It says 'out of disk space'. How do I get more memory installed?"

I have a stain on my shirt from the coffee that came out of my nose at this point.

Me: "Your hard drive is full, you need to make more room by deleting files."

Fred: "So I can just delete everything?"

At this point I wanted to say yes and then claim I never told him this.  Would that have been bad of me?

So, yeah, I had to walk over and show him how to choose what files to delete.

MOOOOVE!

An Open Letter To Our Principal

by He Said

I composed an email to my child's principal today and after some thought I have decided to post it here.

Mrs. xxxxxx,

I am sure you get a lot of emails and I know that you are busy, but I hope you can find the time to sit and read this email and truly think about it.

This week my son came home sad again, afraid to talk about his day. Embarrassed to talk about how two boys in particular are taunting him on the playground. This is not the first time, and it they are not the only children to have done this.

As a young man I was taunted and teased. Bullied with words as far back as I can remember. My parents told me over and over again to just "ignore them and to walk away".  In those days I didn't have a school that was touting itself as zero tolerance for bullying. I didn't have teachers who were supposed to be looking out for bullying. I was an emotional child. One who cried easily.  My parents told me "its OK for boys to cry." The boys on the playground saw it differently and took joy and pleasure in poking and prodding me with words until the tears came. So I learned very quickly it was NOT OK to cry, which made it even harder to stop because I was made to feel weak. Children today are no different.

It rips me up inside to see this happening with my son. My history boils up inside and all I want to tell my son is to fight back. We all know from movies that punching the bully makes them go away.  But that isnot what I truly want my son to do.  

If the answer to ending bullying was to truly walk away and ignore it, then we wouldn't have a bullying problem, because kids who are bullied do try to walk away and hide from those that are taunting them.  

Our kids need advocates and while I understand deeply that teachers have enough responsibilities, my child has no one else to be his advocate on your watch than the teachers and staff who are monitoring the playground.

When a child approaches a teacher and tells him or her that someone is bullying them, be it even with words (because we all know that words do hurt) that child needs to believe that something will be done. Our children must know that their words will be heard.  It takes more strength to tell a teacher that they are being bullied than it does to just walk away.  It takes more character to tell a teacher that you are being bullied than it does to fight back. Because telling makes you a "tattle tale," doesn't it. Approaching a grown up to say you are being taunted is a cry for help that needs to be taken very seriously.

Our children need to believe and they need to feel that telling a teacher is the right thing to do and that if they do, something will be done.  Because if nothing is done, then it's our children who are being hurt. Then our children won't tell when someone is taunting, name calling or teasing them, and that is heartbreaking to consider. Our children need to believe that something will come of their actions. Otherwise our "zero tolerance" policy is nothing but meaningless words, and our children will continue to pay the price.

Does your school have an official bully reporting system? If not, what are your plans to establish such a system? Do you have regular training and assemblies to discuss this issue? If not, are there plans to create and schedule them? 

Take a 8 minutes of your day to watch this video, come back and read my email again and then please, feel free to respond.

http://www.youtube.com/embed/ltun92DfnPY?rel=0&wmode=transparent&showinfo=0&controls=1&enablejsapi=1&rel=0

I have told my son that the next time he is being taunted to go straight to a teacher and say "I am being bullied."  I expect that his words will be taken seriously. Please do whatever it takes to be sure that his and other children's words are taken seriously.  

Sincerely,

Greg XXXXX

UPDATE: The principal responded very quickly with a short response promising a longer one later. She has taken the time to speak with our son already. The reason I asked about bullying programs was because I could find nothing on the school specific website. An important oversight in my opinion. He does not want talk about their conversation and we are honoring his requests. We will see where it goes from here.

Bathroom Musings

Posted by He Said

And now for something a little lighter.

Ask anyone in my family and they will tell you that when I go to take "my morning constitutional" as my father called it, I have a tendency to lose track of time. I might find myself reading a good news story, or shopping for my latest "obsession".

Many times though I find myself playing a game (get your head out of the gutter). It doesn't even have a name. It's one I have played since I was a young boy. Ok. Go write your dirty comments, then come back and finish.

Lets call it Bathroom Musings for the lack of a better name. If I stare at an object, a shape or pattern I start pulling images from them. If I had any sort of artistic skills they would be great inspiration for drawings.

The large tiles in our bathroom have a numerous number of animals, shapes and objects in them, and they change every time I stare at it. Especially depending on my mood. Here is the main whole tile I see at my feet.

Just the other morning, I was in a good mood and the first shape I saw was a heart. A plain and simple heart. Do you see it...

Then as I stare at it, it starts to get a little more complicated.  Like the roaring lion! He is facing left.  His nose is probably the most defined.  Do you see it?

Then on darker days there are evil characters sometimes.  Demons and ghouls. Like this evil face with the Bob's Big Boy hair and depending on how you look at it, he might have an over sized head with a little black body riding on a broomstick.  Yes. I have been watching ALL the Harry Potter movies with the kids.

Maybe I will post some more as I see them (if you care to see more, let me know).  Do any of you play a game like this?

Power to the Tatas!

Posted by She Said

I need to get something off of my chest (ahem), so to speak…

Turning 40 has been a wild ride so far, and I’m only 6 months in. It started with a celebratory tattoo, an awesome party with wonderful friends, and the running of three 5Ks, one of which included zombies. Forty ain’t so bad!

But then it can be.

Along with that number comes the need for annual boob squishings, otherwise known as mammograms. I had one at 38 because of my mother’s breast cancer diagnosis. I wasn’t thrilled to have to do this; hell, I doubt anyone enjoys them, but I did it. I was told that if the tech found anything, they’d give me a call the next day. I didn’t get a call, so woohoo!

But then I got the letter!

Apparently, someone forgot to make the call and I got the letter (almost two weeks later) instead. A strange mass was found on the mammogram and I needed to go in for further testing. BUT I DIDN’T GET A CALL! I thought I was in the clear, but here was the damn letter in front of me stating otherwise. Nervously I went in for the ultrasound, sweaty as all get out because you can’t wear deodorant. And when do I need to be wearing deodorant? WHEN I’M STRESSED.

The doctor came in after reviewing the ultrasound findings and said I had what looked like a complicated cyst. I just needed to have a needle aspiration (how fun!) and a biopsy, and I’d be good. They are almost always benign, he said. Call my doctor, he said.

Now, I’ll be honest, I’m terrible about doing my own monthly breast checks. Hell, I’m bad about doing them EVER. So, with sudsy, nervous hands in the shower, I felt around for this “cyst” and holy shit. There it was! AND queue meltdown.

Fast forward to the surgeon’s office, and he’s feeling around and can’t find anything. He asked me to show him where I felt it, and I couldn’t find it either. I guess suds and a shower is to feeling a bump as a box a kleenex and porn is to Larry Flynt’s Friday nights.

Two days later, I go in for the biopsy and needle aspiration (again, doesn’t that just sound like a good time?). I couldn’t feel anything, thankfully, because of the local anesthetic, but I could SEE everything he was doing since it was an ultrasound guided biopsy and the screen was right in front of me. AND queue deer in the headlights.

After the biopsy, the doctor informed me that it was not a cyst but a tumor. The difference being that a cyst is fluid filled, and a tumor is solid. Given that it was almost an inch in length, he was not able to aspirate it through the needle. He again assured me it looked benign, and that it most likely was a fibroadenoma. AND queue painful waiting and some wicked bruising.

(I know, gross. Sorry.)

And more waiting, waiting, waiting…

After doing a TON of reading (thanks, google!) about this, I discovered that fibroadenomas are usually found in younger women, while phyllodes tumors, that look very similar, are often found in women in their forties and older. Thank you, forty, for being such an unpredictable bitch. Again, it is rare for one of these to be malignant, but there is a small percentage that are.

After THREE (THREE!!!!!!) full days of excruciating, gut-wrenching waiting, the results came back, and the samples were benign (hoo-fucking-ray!!!) and it is either a fibroadenoma or a phyllodes tumor or possibly both. They won’t fully know until it is excised (a nice term for cutting that shit out) and sent to pathology. When asked if it could still be found to be malignant, he said there was a chance, but that none of the samples sent in had any sign of malignancy, so not to worry. He said that to ME, the person hard-wired to worry. But I am going to try and do just that, not worry.

The surgery is scheduled in a couple of weeks, and I’m assured the scarring will be minimal. Good thing; I don’t want to lose that sweet pole dancing gig I’ve got goin’.

Slap My Ass Like An American Athlete

by He Said

Its soccer season again.. ok, it’s almost over, but that’s not really the point to my rambling here.  It’s to tell you a story.

Last week I’m at the park while B is at soccer practice.  It’s a popular park for dog walkers and there is an older gentleman that I have seen there several times.  It isn’t that he stands out that I remember him, but that he has a dog that looks like a walking cotton ball.  A big white fro with legs this dog is. This particular evening I sat on the park bench on the patch this evening rather than on the grass.

As the older gentleman (I’m using this term loosely as you will soon learn) approached his dog came to me and as a dog lover I naturally greeted it with love and attention.  The man was was wearing his Veterans of Foreign Wars baseball cap and a jacket with military insignia, flags and the like.  A proud vet.  Being the grandson of a WWII veteran of the Navy on one side, and a Army Soldier on the other as well as a father who served in the Army I was raised to respect those who have served our country. Rightly so, I automatically give someone who has served our country proud a little more respect than the average stranger.

As I am sitting there petting this “gentlemen's” dog I look up and smile and he says to me, “What’s with all these kids playing soccer? Why aren’t they playing baseball and football.” I tried to explain to him that they play football and baseball at the baseball and football  parks.

As though he didn’t hear a word I said (and maybe he didn’t, he had a few years on him) he said “When I was a kid, we played American sports like baseball and football. Not this pussy sport.”

uh…can I stop referring to him as a gentleman and he dropped two notches of respect.

So what the hell am I supposed to say to this guy who once served our country risking life and limb to guarantee the freedoms we enjoy today who just called my kids sport a “pussy sport?”

I was flabbergasted.  I couldn’t speak.  I just looked at him, pet his dog one more time and looked away.

When I told this story to a coworker he had a response that I WISH I had at the time. I wish I had said something like. “So right. Those ass slapping sports are SO much more manly.”

To Stick or Not to Stick?

Posted by She Said

I recently freed myself of my mommymobile (aka minivan) and acquired a much more “I’m an outdoorsy type” Outback. It’s even a stick shift, which alone makes me feel 10 years younger. And in our very four-seasons climate, these “I can easily go kayaking! or skiing!” cars are very popular. (Not that I do either of those things, but still.) These cars are EVERYWHERE.

So, I was trying to figure out how to make mine stand out a bit? I’ve been wavering on whether or not to put my politically-affiliated bumper sticker on the car, but in a fit of Angry Susanne, I decided to bite the proverbial bullet and put it on my car. And as I was smoothing down the final corner and checking Facebook at the same time (hey, not all multi-tasking skills left me with motherhood!), I saw a friend’s post about being opposed to putting any sticker on his car but would possibly consider this one:

Now, the geek factor alone on this gem seriously makes it worth sticking it on your own forehead and running around for everyone to see. Stick it, I say! Had I not just sealed the deal with my own sticker, I may have considered that one instead.

So, anyway, I digress. Political bumper sticker. My car. Done deal. I am going to be acutely aware of any increases in one finger salutes in my direction and any increases in being cut off. Hopefully I’ll get a few thumbs up. At least my sticker just states where my support lay and isn’t one of those horribly blunt and downright rude stickers. I won’t say whose team (*cough Romney cough*) I keep seeing them for, because, you know, that would just be tacky.

Still pondering my choice to commit to the stick at the grocery store today, I happened to park next to a car with one of those aforementioned snarky stickers. This was no ordinary car either; it was also plastered with the name of the person’s floral business. If I were the owner of a small business, I would definitely consider the fact that I could be pissing away half of my customers by mixing my political beliefs with my business.

All I can say is thank goodness I’m a slacker and don’t have my own business! I can piss off whomever I want! (Sorry, parents.)

So, what do you think about political stickers on cars? Are only certain ones upsetting? Do you stick? Or do you avoid sticking? Inquiring minds want to know!

Fifty Shades of Ducky

Posted by She Said

You all know my ducks, right? Well, one of them has been really naughty lately, and I think I know why. That little sneak has been reading Fifty Shades of Grey (on our Kindle, of course).

Apparently she’s gotten herself pretty tied up in the storyline, and now even her peers aren’t sure what to make of her. They are always whispering behind her back.

Maybe they are just jealous, who knows? But the biggest question is where does she hang out during the day? There’s certainly no way she can hang out at the tub with the others. Even though she brags to them about how she is water proof and can vibrate. Seriously, where exactly does a duck of her, um… character hang out where the risk of ogling children’s eyes isn’t an issue? Do you think she has a secret playroom in the house somewhere?

Maybe her new, shall we say, attire can be attributed to our other new ducky addition:

Yeah, she looks innocent enough, but I bet she’s had a wicked influence on the others, don’t you think? All joking aside, there’s no way one could get into this getup alone. Is there?

---

So, yes, I have been given several more ducks for my ever-increasing collection. I’m not sure if that says something about me or the friends I keep. Either way, keep ‘em coming! Ahem, so to speak.

It’s 4:20 Somewhere

Posted by She Said

It is obvious I have been married to my beloved for a long time. I have clearly become Angry Susanne, counterpart to Angry Greg. The difference however is that Greg has chilled at work and people no longer distinguish him from the other Gregs at work by referring to him as “Angry Greg.” OK, yes they do, but it is done more in jest instead of well, the truth.

I need to follow suit and chill. It is obvious I have been, ahem, angry lately. Angry at stupid white men trying to take women back 100 years and to discriminate against people “other” than them. OK, damn! There I go again.

Breath.

So, OK. I promise to try and talk about fun and light things and keep my political ramblings to a minimum. Not completely stop, but minimize. I’ll try. Pinky promise. Hey, how about every time I bring it up, we do shots!? We’ll call the drinking game Angry Susanne!

So here I go trying to be light. And funny. It’s a little story about how technology can bite you in the ass…

Greg and I have parental controls on our Netflix account to keep the kids from watching things we don’t want them to see. It works perfectly! Well, until it doesn’t because you forgot to turn them back on after a grown up night of TV.

The kids have been watching this Japanese anime cartoon through Netflix, and where I don’t actually sit and watch shows with them, I do listen to them, keenly from the other room. I kept asking Braedyn what the rating was on the show, and he kept rolling his eyes at me and informing me it was TV-PG. Now, I didn’t think TV-PG shows were allowed with our settings, but I figured Greg set it, so he must be ok with it. What I heard wasn’t terrible, just a little surprising with its occasional “damn” and “what the hell?”. But there were princesses! and classical music! and well, I let it go.

Then last night Greg and Braedyn were watching something together and some guy was trapped in a car.

Braedyn: <calmly> Why don’t they just break the damn window?

Greg: What?

Braedyn: <again, calmly and truly inquisitive> Why don’t they just break the damn window?

Greg: You know, bud, damn is not a word you should use. It is a swear word.

Braedyn: What? I didn’t call anybody it.

It’s true. Good point. If you are going to swear in this house, you damn well better know where it goes in the f#cking sentence. It’s just good parenting.

Time for a Push

Posted by She Said

I’ve always believed our culture evolved in a manner similar to a pendulum moving. Advancements in women’s rights and GLBT rights, for example, come with a pushing back by those who don’t want change, but change comes nonetheless. It may not be as fast or as complete as those pushing may want, but advancements ARE made. The push, and subsequent push-back, mimics the movement of the pendulum. Our culture evolves from this motion.

Recently, however, there has been such an incredible insurgence of people pushing our culture back, back, back. That pendulum is flying so hard back to the early 20th century that I feel like I’ve been bitch-slapped. And what are those that fought so hard for advancements in women’s rights, in GLBT rights, and in science doing? I for one feel like I have been standing here watching the train wreck that is our culture. I’m so shocked by stories in the news, DAILY! news, of things being said and done that are chiseling away our advancements, and not subtly either. These are big chunks coming out of culture’s advancements. And all this hate and intolerance is just pulling all the crazies out, making them mainstream. It wouldn’t be an ordinary day anymore without hearing about some other white man redefining rape or “traditional” marriage.

You know what I’m talking about, right? Legitimate rape. Life begins two weeks before conception. Don’t want to get pregnant? - put a dime between your legs. Magical vaginas that know how to “shut down” a pregnancy resulting from rape. Radio station cancels public affairs program over interview with LGBT advocate. Don’t look like a white politician? Better carry papers. Want contraception? - you must be a slut. Pray the gay away! Evolution is a theory and can’t be taught in schools. And the list painfully goes ON and ON and ON.

My stages of grief over this attack on our advancements have been clearly visible. I have certainly been in denial about this cultural war. Certainly this craziness has got to stop! I’ve been depressed about this backlash on women, immigrants, the GLBT community, science. This is all so unbelievably sad! Now, I am angry. I’m absolutely pissed that hate seems to be the norm for so much of our society today. I’m pissed that people are publically speaking their racist, homophobic, misogynist, and anti-reason minds and HAVEN’T BEEN CALLED OUT ON IT ENOUGH. I’m pissed that our push-back hasn’t been as loud and visible as the crazies has been. I’m pissed that so many haters don’t see it as JUST THAT – HATE.

But I guarantee there will be one stage of grief I will never reach. I will never accept. I will never accept that hate will win out over love. I will never accept that there are more intolerant people in our country than those who cherish and respect differences in others. I will never accept.

It’s time we woke up and dust off our <insert any number of groups under attack here> rights signs and proudly display them again! Get out there and have your voice heard! Enough is enough. Let’s push back, people! PUSH BACK!

Ready, Set, GO, GO, GO!!!!

Posted by She Said

I absolutely adore this time of year. I cherish the change in the air, that crispness that tells me fall is coming. I’ve been noticing some leaves in our neighborhood starting to change color. Granted, I hope they aren’t DYING because of the lack of water around these here parts lately – I shake my fist at you climate change!

The oranges and lush warm hues that seem to work their way into every store window makes me happy. The idea of curling up with a book by the fireplace under a soft throw thrills me. Yes, fall is my favorite time of year!

And it’s not.

Sadly, my idyllic image of quiet fall strolls through leaf covered streets falls short of reality, the reality that is our life this time of year. Fall  signals the ramping up of the busiest four months of the year for us.

It starts with soccer. Two kids, so two soccer practices and two games a week – both at different places, but sometimes at the same time! That’s in addition to all the gobs of stuff they are suddenly responsible for in school. Projects? Book Reports? Homework!

Both of the kids’ birthdays are also sprinkled around Halloween and Christmas. Oh, all the holidays! There’s Halloween, VOTING DAY!, the Married Geek’s Binary Anniversary, Friendsgiving (our version of Thanksgiving), Christmas, and New Years! OK, I’m just kidding. New Years hasn’t been a holiday since I was in my twenties! It’s more of a “Do you want to try and stay up this year?” kind of event. But still. You get the point. Busy, busy, busy!

So, it is possible that over the next few months I may seem a little crazed (or more than usual), but now you’ll know why. I’m probably trying to blog on my phone and cheer for someone’s team at the same time. Or wrapping presents while typing with my toes. But I love it, because in the end my love of this time of year wins out. Hands down.