Nablopomo is nablopomOVER!

Today marks the end of my failed attempt at completing the Nablopomo challenge. Although I missed three days of posts, I found the experience worthwhile, mostly because joining a community of bloggers was just as fun and inspirational as I'd hoped it would be. Over at the Nablopomo headquarters, I made friends (like Myla), I joined groups, I got into some interesting discussions (like one with DaveX about whether a blog can be "too self-indulgent"), and I found motivation to add some neat little bells and whistles to my blog (like the Flickr slideshow down there on the left). I also sampled many blogs written by other participants. I really like this one, by a Nablopomo participant named Jenni, but I think I freaked her out by commenting too enthusiastically on her Nablo page.
:-)
And here's where I thank my two most faithful readers, J and A! Thanks, J and A, for muddling through. Thanks also to Myla and Scott.
Goodnight, everybody!

I failed, and here are my excuses

Well, as is obvious by my three days' worth of missing posts, I've failed the NaBloPoMo challenge. On one hand, I am crushed, ashamed, and disappointed, because I'm not someone who even bothers to start things I know I won't complete. Once I've set my mind to something, I really keep the pressure on myself to finish. So, as my therapist would say, my failure to post for three days this month is "not in line with my integrity," and it makes me feel crappy.
On the other hand, I am comfortable with the fact that the three days I didn't post were full of real-world obstacles and challenges that wore me down and kept me utterly occupied with more pressing matters till the wee hours---and on East Coast time, no less! I won't go into these events in detail, but one of them---seeing my Grandma George, who is 95 and currently unresponsive, immobile, and dying (under the care of Hospice) in her nursing home---was deeply disturbing, emotionally painful, and life-changing. Another major factor in my no-post record was Maya, who vomited lustily three times during our trip (including once in a restaurant and once on the plane ride home), which sent me into frantic cycles of toddler-comforting, toddler-bathing, clothes-washing, linens-washing, and anxiety. (We still don't know why she was puking, and we have no idea if it's over or if she'll puke again two minutes from now.)
Add to that my parents' dial-up connection and slow-arse computer, which kept seizing up on me the nights I did post, and you get a recipe for no NaBlo.
So, yes, I realize I'm giving excuses. But they are valid, and I guess I feel I have to write them here if I ever hope to get over the feeling that I'm a big fat failure.
But, on the bright side, there's no reason why I shouldn't be able to finish my daily posts for the remainder of the month, now that I'm back home. Wish me luck!
Hope everyone had a nice Thanksgiving.

Oh. That's disappointing.

Hey, I just noticed something: Apparently, when I switched over to this new template from my old pink one, all of the comments disappeared. For awhile there, especially when I was pregnant, I was getting a few comments per post, and I loved it! It was a fun way to keep in touch with people I don't get to see all the time. And now those comments have all vanished. This makes me sad. Maybe there's some way to recover them? Finding that out would take some clicking around on the Blogger site. Bleh.
Oh well.

This isn't good

Well, I had hoped to post something light and fluffy and sweet and whimsical tonight, to counter last night's heavy, long entry. However, what's top-of-mind right now is all this mother-f*cking lead in all these mother-f*cking Chinese-made toys.
Here's what happened: Earlier this week I received the latest issue of Consumer Reports in the mail. The magazine included a very thorough, straightforward, well-researched, and UTTERLY FRIGHTENING story on lead in myriad, seemingly harmless household products and toys. One of the sidebars for this story rated a handful of home lead tests, for use on such items as toys, dishware, jewelry, etc.
I read the article, experienced some mid-level panic, went online to buy one of the lead tests, and waited impatiently for it to arrive.
The test came today. It includes 8 testing swabs; I've used five so far. First, the good news: a yellow, painted wooden ring from one of Maya's toys contains no lead. Also, a yellow plastic ring from another of Maya's toys (a Mattell product, I might add) contains no lead. And surprisingly, a crappy little metal trinket box that some street vendor gave her for free is also lead-free. (Each of these items has found its way into Maya's mouth numerous times.)
Now, the bad news, the news that is causing my nerves to explode like popcorn and my mama-bear rage to ignite: another part of the toy that includes the yellow, painted (lead-free) wooden ring I mentioned earlier does appear to contain lead. I say "appear" because there is one teeny, tiny part of me that hopes the lead-test swab turned pink not because the toy contains lead but because the red paint on it bled onto the swab. (Normally, a swab that turns pink indicates LEAD, LEAD, LEAD, according to the test-kit instructions.)
I have a feeling, and it's not a good one, that the damn red-painted part of that toy does contain lead, just like some of the recalled toys from earlier this summer had tainted red paint, and that's why the swab turned pink. To know for sure, I'll be calling the lead-test manufacturer on Monday to ask whether the swabs ever turn pink not from lead detection but from bleeding red paint. I'll let you know what I find out.
If I get bad news, which is likely, I'm going to call my pediatrician and ask ONE MORE FREAKING TIME for a blood test for Maya to determine her lead levels. So far, the doctor has declined to test her because we don't live in an old-old house, and Maya's development is "right on track." Hmph. Whatevs. I say, let's test this kid! If it turns out there's lead in that one toy, I'm insisting on it, or taking Maya to another doctor who WILL test.
...and that is the end of my angry rant. G'night, everybody!
Tomorrow's post: light, fluffy, sweet, and whimsical. I promise!

HTML = How Terribly Math-Like

Today I'm back at work after four glorious days in Classroom 3 of my company's Education Center learning HTML and other, more-complicated aspects of Web publishing. I spent all last week (a short one, thanks to Labor Day) enjoying 9 to 4:30 workdays, free breakfasts, and hourly breaks. The class I took was super-informative and incredibly educational---especially for me, a definitive non-IT person.

The first day and a half or so, we learned the basics of HTML (that's hypertext markup language, for those of you who have better things to do than decipher silly technological acronyms), which was interesting, fun, and relatively easy, compared to what would come later in the week. I now understand tags and attributes and am comfortable working in TextPad. If you wanted me to, I could produce for you a simple little Web page with text, images, anchors (links to other pages and Web sites), tables, and frames. From scratch!

About halfway into Day 2, however, we moved from HTML to Web servers and how they work (i.e., "the server side"). I had to really, really concentrate to understand; and even then, I was barely getting it. I had specific questions, too---all pertaining to how I could get a Web site of my own uploaded to a Web server to share with the world. I tried not to reveal my intentions, though, since ostensibly I was attending this class to build the skills necessary to help my department create a Web site sometime in the future. (Yawn.) My questions were along the lines of, "Could a person turn her own home computer into a Web server?" (Answer: Yes, but it's a really, really bad idea.) "Are there companies that sell Web-server space to individuals?" (Answer: Yes, and some will do it for cheap.) "Once you've got access to a Web server for publishing your Web pages, how do you upload your HTML files?" (Answer: Using FTP software.) That type of thing. I just think I would really enjoy building a simple little Web site for myself, but I don't want to begin creating the pages without knowing what comes after that, you know?

By the third and fourth days of class, my head was reeling, and I honest to god had flashbacks of high-school calculus. I mean, the server-side scripts responsible for making Web content interactive? And the script languages themselves? Rough, I'm telling you. It's like when I took algebra in seventh grade with Mr. Tresselt: I was capable of understanding it and applying it, but only with many extra hours of one-on-one tutoring in the mornings before homeroom. It worked that way with SL, my HTML instructor last week: He'd instruct the class from the front of the room, I'd concentrate so hard my brain would buzz, he'd finish up, my eyes would glaze over, and I'd raise my hand for some extra one-on-one reinforcement of concepts he'd covered that my brain hadn't quite processed. Even then, I'd get the general gist, but not the nitty gritty of the individual script languages or their syntax. And when we had to create Web forms that sent information to a SQL Server database? Brutal. I barely, barely clung to the do-it-yourself exercise.

On Friday, our last day, the instructor lectured a bit on search engines, how they work, which are the best, etc. He also talked about the different browsers, and cookies, and other Internet-related subjects that are no sweat for IT people but that have always seemed sort of incomprehensible to me. One cool site he showed us was one in which you can type any operational Web address and find out how many other Web sites link to it in their pages. (I typed in www.waxingprosaic.blogspot.com and a big fat zero popped up. Hee.)

Also on our last day, SL, the instructor, entertained us by making animal shapes from balloons. (He's self-taught, if you're wondering.) He also distributed the exam, which I took and which caused me major anxiety---again taking me right back to my schooldays, when I'd study my bloomin' arse off for a test, only to find that none of the concepts I studied were part of the test whatsoever. Errgghh. After practically assaulting SL to get him to reveal some of the more-difficult answers after I'd turned my answer sheet in, I discovered that the guesses I'd made were good ones, so I don't think I failed the test after all, as I'd feared I might. I mean, really: How lame would it be to fail a test your very own company created? And that you once copyedited?! And whose answer key you've seen before?! Soooo lame.

So, yeah. Now I'm back at work, and frankly, it blows. Turns out that in my absence, a coworker I liked and was just getting to know better was suddenly fired one afternoon. Peculiar. And it's all very hush-hush, so I've no idea what happened. It's unsettling. Plus, I miss the free oatmeal and afternoon snacks in the Education Center. On the other hand, I've missed chatting and e-mailing with the other editors, so I guess it all evens out.

Well, there you have it. I've got no clever conclusion to tack onto the end here, so....that is all.

Technology Bytes

My computer has a virus. Or a worm. Or a Trojan Horse. Or corrupted Windows. Whatever. There's something horribly, horribly wrong with it, and that makes me very sad. It also makes me hysterical and angry. On Sunday, I watched helplessly as all of my personal-writing Word documents turned into Notepad files full of gibberish and asterisks. I wanted to hurl my big, clunky, corrupted Gateway machine out the window, then hurl myself onto my bed and weep while punching my pillow and kicking the mattress.

I didn't quite do all of that, but I did cry. I also stomped around my apartment wailing "Why now? What the f-ck? This is such bullsh-t!" and trying to talk myself through the trauma. The most upsetting part is that the disk I had my writing backed up on is corrupted also...I mean, really f-cked up...so I fear all the writing I've done in the last two years is irretrievable.

Enter Captain K, the computer-genius husband of coworker A, who has graciously swooped in to offer his expertise free of charge. My hero! He has volunteered himself (or, more accurately, his enormous brain) to try to determine what, exactly, is ailing my computer, and possibly to fix it. He may even be able to recover some files. Whee! Even if he can't do much, it's a start, and I'm grateful. The IT guys here at work, who make my head spin with all their techno-jargon, are also trying to help. They've e-mailed me some instructions for virus-scanning in DOS mode, which is very kind of them, but I don't understand the instructions whatsoever. Perhaps Captain K will. They've also given me an updated, all-powerful virus-scanning CD to run on my machine, to determine if a virus is indeed the problem.

In the meantime, I'm attempting to come to terms with losing my writing. It's not like it was fantastic (or even good) stuff, but many of the pieces had been through dozens of rewrites and had been steadily improving over the course of the last several months or so. I dug up some hard copies of some things, but they're my first drafts from a year or two ago. I guess that's better than nothing.

Perhaps I should view this loss as a new beginning. (Cue violins.) Perhaps I should also avoid clichés. But what I mean is, I've been considering a couple of memories I'd like to write about, so maybe it's time to put pen to paper (not fingers to keyboard, yet, until this damn virus---or whatever---is fixed) and actually get to work. I've never written about being hit by the car, and I think that's a story worth telling. I think it's safe to assume that the average person has not been hit by a car while jogging and might be curious to know what that's like. Also, it's a story with a happy ending, now that I'm running again.

That reminds me: My last post, which never made it on-line as a result of the computer debacle, was about the joy of last Saturday's three-mile run. Also, it was about the joy of drinking a big, free Starbucks iced coffee afterward. I discovered my computer horror shortly after saving the post to disk. How quickly joy can turn to despair. And rage. And dark, violent thoughts about Bill Gates and his crappy Internet Explorer, which is maddeningly vulnerable to attacks from hackers and other virus-making evil geniuses.

P.S. I'd like to give a shout-out to coworker and talented blogstress, J, also known as Gintastic, who writes a blog that's much more interesting, clever, and funny than this one. Also, I think she's only the second person to ever read my blogs. Maybe she's reading right now! Hi J!