Thursday, February 27, 2014

Entry 223: Slipper Woes

Astute readers of this blog might recall that about two months ago I ordered a pair of slippers from Amazon.  I still haven't gotten them.  Well, I have, but it was the wrong order (and three sizes too small), so I returned them.  Then when I went to order a new pair, they were out of my size.  And they were out of my size in the next pair I looked at and the next pair and the next pair.*  I couldn't find a nice pair I liked in my size -- but I wanted a pair of slippers and I wanted to use an Amazon gift card -- so I bought a pair on the cheap that I didn't really like.

They came, and they fit, and they sucked.  Or I should say "they suck", present tense; I still have them.  They actual make the soles of my feet hurt, like I'm walking on something harder than the ground.  I don't know how this is even possible; you'd think at worst they would provide no cushion, but somehow they provide anti-cushion.  I tried to wear thick socks and convince myself they aren't that bad, but it didn't work.  So I decided to get another, better pair.

[The Tamarac International Men's Cody Sheepskin Slipper.  Tell me you wouldn't want to put your dog in that.]

Now, if I was smart, I'd go to a brick and mortar store, actually try some pairs on, and get something I know I like.  But I'm not smart.  Actually, I am.  I just really, really hate shopping.  So I went back to Amazon, found something that looked good (the selection was better this time, probably from not being right after Xmas) and ordered them up.

They came and were too small.  I wanted an 11.5, but they didn't make half sizes, so I had to go 11 or 12.  I was thinking in my head -- Just get the bigger size! -- but then I decided to look through all my shoes (about six pairs) and see if any are 11s or 12s.  In fact, two pairs are 11s, and none are 12s, so I deduced I should get the 11.  It's weird how variable footwear of the same "size" can be.  The slippers I ordered didn't kinda not fit; I could barely put them on.  And they pinched my toes so unbearably, I couldn't even pretend like they fit. 


So I returned them as well.  The company I ordered them from (a quaint-sounding outfitter called Warm Things) asks that you include a letter stating why you're returning an item, so I cranked one out (under S's name, as they were purchased using her account)  that was by no means impolite, but was very, let's say, thorough.  I imagine it made the person on the receiving end think -- Wow, this woman takes her slippers seriously!

The upshot is that they're sending a size 12 soon.  They also wrote an email to S saying that it's the manufacture who doesn't do half sizes (something I complained about in the letter) because the "suede stretches with use".  It also says, "the product description actually does have a recommendation for half sizes to size up" (something else I complained about).  Fair enough.  I should have completely read the product description, although in my defense its kinda buried near the bottom of the page underneath a bunch of other crap.  Plus, the logic doesn't work.  They don't do half sizes because the suede stretches, but then they suggest that you go to the next size up?  How does that make sense? 

Anyway ...

Little guy update: He's doing well.  We finally had a few days of sun here (followed quickly by more snow), so I was able to take him to this new park in the neighborhood that's really cool.  We went once, and he spent most the time pointing at the kids playing basketball saying "ball, ball, ball" (or rather "ba', ba', ba'") the entire time, so the next time we went I brought a little rubber ball, and he couldn't have been more ecstatic.  He barely looked at the big toy and the swings.  He would drop his ball, let it roll away, and then run retrieve.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  All while merrily spewing out a string of half-intelligible syllables.  And occasionally stopping to point at a dog.

[I'm going to start stretching Lil' S in the crib to prepare him for his NFL career.]

The fact that S is so into his ball bodes very well for him being into sports as he gets older, which is good for me.  And I haven't even been pushing him towards it.  I try not to influence his toy selection at all.  He just goes for his ball first.  I do however watch a lot of football with him in the room.  (I DVR'd a bunch of Seahawks games, and now that the season is over, I've been reliving the dream.)  He seems to like it.  

Well, if Lil' S gets into sports, it's going to be game over for S.  It'll be two against one, and one of them will be her own child.  She better hope we someday have a little girl to even things out.  Wait ... that's sexist.  Girls can like sports too.  Let me try again: She better hope we someday have a little gay boy to even things out.  There we go.  Nothing offensive about that.

Until next time ...

*Apparently 11.5 is a popular size, although I could never figure out why there is less of a popular size.  I get more people want them, but then why don't companies make more?  Doesn't basic economics say supply should meet demand?  When I worked at The Sports Authority way back in summer 2000, I stocked shoes, and we'd constantly be running out the popular sizes like 10 and 11 while the we had pallet-fuls of 8s and 13s.  And I would think to myself -- why don't the shoe companies use the materials for the 8s and 13s and make more 10s and 11s?  

It's not just shoes either.  I've really gotten into this type of granola, Michele's Granola.  But the kind I like, Chocolate Cherry, is frequently out of stock while there are bags and bags of Pumpkin Spice and Cinnamon Raisin.  Can't they make more Chocolate Cherry and less of the other stuff that nobody's buying?  Come Michele, it's called optimal allocation of resources.

Saturday, February 22, 2014

Entry 222: Valentine After All

So I got a Valentine's Day gift after all.  Apparently I was supposed to get one last week -- S had booked a babysitter (our old nanny) and was going to surprise me -- but the snow put the kibosh on it all.  So she moved it back a week, and we got to go out last night.  Nothing too exciting, just dinner at a conveniently located, mid-scale eatery, but everybody with kids knows how nice it is to do something simple like that (sans children) every once in a while.  We sat near a window, and I looked out and saw all the people bustling about and thought to myself, "Right.  This is why people live in the city."  Sometimes when I'm en route to one of the only three places I go regularly -- home, work, daycare -- I question why we didn't just go the cheaper / easier route and move to the suburbs.  So it's nice to actually go out and be reminded of what D.C. proper has to offer.

[The Columbia Heights neighborhood in Washington D.C., across the street from where we ate.]

One thing D.C. doesn't have is a nice aquarium, so for President's Day (thank you for your service, Franklin Pierce) we went up to Baltimore and took Lil' S to the National Aquarium.  It was awesome (though expensive: 35$ per adult plus 25$ for parking!).  It's a great place to take a 1.5-year old.  It's much better than the zoo right now (which is unfortunate as the zoo is free and ten minutes from our house), because it's more interactive and more colorful.  Lil' S could get right up to the tanks and point to all the "cockies".  Cockie, by the way, is his generic word for all nonhuman lifeforms; it stems from his mispronunciation of the word "doggie".

[The eponymous Franklin Pierce.  (I grew up in Pierce County, Washington.)]


Lil' S somehow lost a shoe on the way from the car to the aquarium, so he ran around in his socks.  It's pretty much carpeted everywhere, so it wasn't a big deal, but it did make me think about some of the admirable qualities little kids have.  There are few things more blowhard-y than saying things like "my child teaches me more than I could ever teach him" or "my child is my hero" or some other such tripe, so I'll try to avoid steering into that territory.  But there are some things really young kids do that I wish more adults (like myself) did.  One, they don't give a shit.  Lil' S just ran around in his socks at the aquarium, because he wanted to run around, and he didn't have any shoes; he didn't care that that's unusual.

Two, they'll keep trying something (and look foolish doing so) until they figure it out.  Watch any toddler go down the stairs, and you'll see what I mean.  They all have their own style -- Lil' S hugs the wall, sits down, slides down a single step on his butt, stands back up, and repeats -- that they crafted through trial and error, mostly the latter.  As adults, we're so hesitant to get into something new because we don't want to fail at first (either we lack patience or we're afraid of looking stupid), but that's the only way to learn.  The saying shouldn't be, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks"; it should be, "Old dogs are way too self-conscious to learn new tricks." 

Three, little kids aren't racist.  Charles Barkley once said -- and I'm paraphrasing -- "You can tell racism isn't a natural thing by watching kids.  You know what happens when you put a black kid and a white kid together?  They play."  Well said, Sir Charles.  Well said, indeed.  My favorite personal story on the matter is that once when S and I went to visit some friends about five years ago, their son, about five years old at the time, thought S and I we're brother and sister.  To anybody who knows S and I (and has seen our respective skin colors) this is absurdly funny.

[That's one fucked-up looking fish.]

Anyway, one thing that I saw a lot of at the aquarium is people taking tons of pictures of the aquatic life, not of people and creatures, just creatures.  A surprising number of people were even recording them.  I found this really weird and annoying.  Weird because -- When would you ever want to look at those pictures or watch the video?  I can understand one or two snapshots of an interesting looking critter, but a whole slide show or video of them?  They have these things called "The Discovery Channel" and "The Internet" that can easily satiate even the most rapacious marine-life-viewing appetite.  And the quality of the picture will be much better than anything you could do with your iPhone through thick glass.

The annoying part is that people taking pictures or recording take up prime, front-of-the-tank real estate and block others' views for much longer than the average non-picture-taking person.  There was one (very large) woman in particular who was standing dead-center in front of a smallish tank snapping pic after pic while a bunch of little kids (Lil' S included) were trying to squeeze around her.  It's like, come on lady, it's crowded in here today, take a gander, say to yourself "Wow!  That's one fucked-up looking fish," and move along, like all the courteous people in the building.  If you're really that interested in alligator gars, take a note of what they're called, and do a Google search when you're at home and not obstructing the views of a bunch of kids.

Anyway, apropos of nothing, this YouTube clip is pretty hilarious, if you are familiar with the comedic stylings of Louis CK.  Spot on.



Alright, I gotta wrap this up soon.  My wife and kid should be back any minute.  They just went to the fabric store.  S has taken up sewing, which is really cool.  For one thing, I've been trying to get her to pick up a hobby basically since we met.  If you (like me) have a bunch of hobbies then it's good if your spouse does as well; otherwise they bother you while you're trying to do your hobbies and then don't understand why you're not ready to hang out with them at the exact moment they want to hang out.

For another thing, sewing is a useful skill.  I joked with S that she was going to be on Project Runway in a few years, and her response was, "No.  I don't want to design a bunch of new styles or anything like that.  I just want to learn how to make everyday things I can wear and hem my own clothes so I don't have to pay for it."

"So you need a show called Project Seamstress," I said.

"Yeah."

Very practical.  I like it.

Until next time ...

Friday, February 14, 2014

Entry 221: Greg "The Hammer" Valentine's Day

It's Valentine's Day, and I don't have anything going on.  Not that I care.  If you read this blog regularly, you know how I feel about holidays, especially fake holidays -- they're just not a big deal to me.  I don't think S cares that much about Valentine's Day either, particularly this year as the vast majority of our time and energy recently has gone into child rearing.  We're too tired for an elaborate fake holiday celebration.

 [It's Greg "The Hammer" Valentine's Day]

It has snowed heavily here in DC the past two nights, so Lil' S's daycare has been closed.  That means two straight days we've been cooped up inside with a hyperactive 17-month old.  It's enervating.  S has gotten the worst of it as I've had to work (no snow days when you can work from home), but trying to do actual work with your wife and toddler in the same house as you is, well, trying.  And Monday is a holiday so we've got three more days of this.  Well, at least it's warming up.  If not for the half foot of slushy, melted snow on the ground, it has actually been quite pleasant today.  It was nice from the ankle up.

It's funny to me that Valentine's Day is the relationship holiday when the only time I've really enjoyed it is when I was in grade school.  (Some kids back then actually had a boyfriend or girlfriend -- they were "going" together -- but not me.  I was briefly going with a girl in 2nd grade, and then it was nothing until the summer after 7th grade.)  I used to love giving and getting all those little valentine cards.  I was so diabolical in how I handed them out too.  I'd rank the valentines' messages in order of suggestiveness, and then I'd rank the people in my class in order of attractiveness, and then I'd pass them out accordingly.  If the words "love" or "be mine" appeared on a card, I'd give it to a cute girl in my class; if the words "friend" or "buddy" was on it, I'd give it to a boy or a so-so girl; if it was just a generic "Happy Valentine's Day" card, I'd give it to a homely girl, or worse yet, I'd stiff her altogether.  Yes, I know that sounds awful, and I'm not proud of it, but in my defense I was between the ages of 6 and 10 at the time.  I didn't really have a concept of doing damage to somebody's self-image during their formative years.

[I distinctly remember giving Ziggy valentines once.  This would've been for a kinda cute to really cute girl.]


I think the teachers caught on to what kids like me were doing (which was probably most of us), because they kept changing the rules to prevent this type of gerrymandering.  Like one year it was announced explicitly that you had to bring a valentine for everybody.  Then it was you couldn't put names on the envelopes (no matter to me, I could easily remember the order I had carefully sorted my valentines into on the bus on the way to school).  Then it was you couldn't put your name on them (this lead to a lot of amateur handwriting forensics).  Finally, you just had to give everybody the same generic valentine with no personalized message.  And that's when Valentine's Day stopped being fun.

In other news, I'm currently wearing a wrist brace because of the hand discomfort I mentioned in my last post.  I have no faith it's going to do anything.  But it's doctor's orders.  The specialist I saw Tuesday wants to try all the "simple things" before doing a bunch of tests.  I agree with that philosophy in general, but in this case I'm very skeptical it will work.  If simple things were the solution, it would be healed by now.  Having no medical experience (I'm an academic doctor, not a real doctor), I'm convinced I have a torn tendon in my hand -- a very small tear that's just irritating me enough to where I have to do something about it.  We shall see. For now, I'm saddled with a clumsy wrist brace and a steady dosage of ibuprofen.



In other other news, S and I have started watching a new show, Orange is the New Black.  It's really good so far.  S was surprised that I like it, which is strange because I love TV shows/movies that are character driven stories.  I like it when there is just a loose plot and most the "oomph" comes from your investment, as a viewer, in the lives of imperfect characters.  That's basically this show to a tee.  Maybe my wife just doesn't know me very well.  Or maybe I don't even know myself.  Deep.

Alright, it's time to watch an episode now.  I'm gonna pour a glass of wine, flip on some Netflix, and cuddle up with the wife.  Actually, not such a bad Valentine's Day at all.

Until next time ...

Friday, February 7, 2014

Entry 220: Incovenience Socialists And Hassle Rounder-Uppers

I accurately foresaw two things today, one unfortunately so, the other irrelevantly so.  The unfortunate clairvoyance had to do with some hand pain I've been experiencing for the last year or so.  Actually, pain isn't the right word; it's more of a discomfort.  It only occurs when I put pressure on my right hand like in a pushup position, and it's not excruciating, but I can tell something is off.  I've been waiting for it to heal on it's own, but it's just not.  I finally went to the doctor today, but I don't have a doctor, so I went to a walk-in clinic.  Before I left I told S, "I'm going to go there, fill out a stack of paper work, wait for three hours, see a doctor for two minutes, be referred to a specialist, charged $50 for a copay, and sent on my way."  Lo and behold ... I have an appointment with an orthopedist on Tuesday.  I'm guessing there is something wrong with a tendon.  We shall see.


The irrelevant clairvoyance had to do with an email chain about parking at Lil' S's daycare between fellow parents.  Parking can be a hassle.  There are only three spots in the "lot" (which is actually just a driveway) and two of them are in a line so the second person always blocks in the first person.  There is also ample street parking, but that sometimes is occupied near the daycare, so you can't park super close.  If you don't get a good spot, it's not that big of a deal -- the worst thing that ever happens is you have to walk a block -- but it can be annoying, especially if you're in a hurry or your kid is acting up or it's bad weather.

So anyway, the "leader" of the parent's group sent out an email this morning reminding everybody of the agreed upon parking etiquette for the two spots in the same line.  Namely, if you get there first, you should pull all the way forward so that another car can fit.  It was all very friendly and courtesy -- a nothing email, really -- but I thought to myself, "Somebody is going to write back to this and say something that offends somebody else; that person will then get defensive and respond back in an icy tone; this will set off a petty back-and-forth between those two people; somebody else not involved will jump in, just because there is always somebody not involved who jumps in; and eventually somebody else not involved -- a reasonable person -- will get annoyed and tell the feuding parties to quit using 'reply all'; and that will be the end of it."  Lo and behold ...


It was uncanny how accurately I nailed this one.  About a minute after the initial email, a woman responded that her husband was blocked in for a really long time twice by the same car and asked that people not use the second parking spot, if they can't get their kids in a reasonable amount of time.  Then the guy who did the blocking got all defensive and pissy and went on a long screed about fussy kids and icy sidewalks and dark streets and whatnot (as if every parent at the daycare doesn't have to deal with the exact same thing).  This in turn prompted another round of responses from the woman and then her husband and then somebody random and then the blocker-man again.  Phrases like "your time", "other people's time", "respect others", "freezing temperatures", and "passive aggressive" were liberally thrown about, before somebody finally asked them to stop. 

I mostly just found the whole thing humorous, but if I had to pick a side I'd go with the woman.  The car that gets there first is being courteous by pulling forward.  The second car should be equally respectful.  I felt like the man was being an "inconvenience socialist" -- somebody who always wants to spread his wealth of inconvenience to everybody else.  Also he was being a total "hassle rounder-upper" -- somebody who tries to make a hassle sound like something worse than a hassle.  The go-to move for a hassle rounder-upper is to try to make a hassle sound like a safety hazard.  If you tell somebody that you had to unpack a stroller and walk 30 extra yards while it was drizzling, you don't get much sympathy; if you tell somebody you had to run 300 extra yards, while carrying your screaming child, on icy sidewalks, in subzero weather, in pitch black darkness, while a ravenous yeti was chasing you, it's a different story. 

Inconvenience socialist, hassle rounder-upper, I like those; I'm going to start using them more frequently.



Alright, that's it for the meat of this entry.  But let's hit a few topics lightning round style.
  • Warren Buffett is giving away $1 billion to anybody who can pick a perfect NCAA bracket.  His money is safe.  People don't realize how insanely unlikely this is.  I did an analysis once for fun, and although I don't remember the exact conclusion, it was something like everybody in the U.S. could fill out 100 brackets for 100 years and the probability of somebody ever picking a perfect bracket would still be well under 1%.  (Obviously this would change if college basketball ever becomes much easier to predict.)  What's funny to me is that Buffett will make money off this promotion.  He's the insurer for Quicken Loans who is actually the one making the offer.  So he's going to get the publicity and get paid.  I guess that's why he's a multibillionaire.
  • Obviously I don't know if what Dylan Farrow says is true.  But Woody Allen was definitely doing something shady.  Normal grown men just don't behave that way around kids.  (It's like Michael Jackson regularly sleeping in a bed with a bunch of kids.)  I certainly don't.  When we were babysitting our friend's 5-year old, she wanted to take her pants off and run around in her underwear (which she does frequently at home), and S was going to let her.  But I was like, "are you nuts?"  This little girl always wants to wrestle me, and there's no way I'm wrestling a half-naked little girl when her parents aren't around.  That's madness.
  • I watched the debate between Bill Nye and the Ken Ham, the nutty creationism guy.  It wasn't very good.  Nye was way too technical and all over the place; Ham was more focused (which I suppose is easy when all you have to say is "because the Bible says so").  Also I didn't like the debate format.  Ham was completely let off the hook at one point -- when he basically admitted that not everything in the Bible should be taken literally -- because there wasn't much time for follow up (and Nye did a lousy job following up, in my opinion).  I would've liked to have seen the debaters ask each other questions directly.  I wonder whether or not Nye should've done the debate at all.  It's always a sticky wicket with religious wackos like Ham.  Is it best to take them on directly?  To indirectly try to discredit them?  To ignore them altogether?  I don't know.
Well, that's it.  Until next time ...