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The Center Cannot Hold

May 19th, 2007

The good thing is that Errol the Macintosh is back on line; Apple released updates to its AirPort that allowed me to connect to my wi-fi network again.

The bad thing is that Nyman the PC crashed today, and crashed hard. I had to restore his hard drive to the original factory settings; he’s still in application recovery mode, so I don’t know whether it’s even going to work.

Backups? What backups?

Original XP installation disks? Did I even get those when I bought the PC two years ago?

Crap.

Work Shoes Suck

May 6th, 2007

Nigel seems to have recovered from his indigestion-inspired incontinence, so I’ve had a little bit of time to devote to a project that’s been looming over me for a while now: new shoes. Particularly, new shoes that would be appropriate for our annual meeting, which is coming up at the end of next month. Most of my shoe collection is bordering on the elderly and in need of repair (e.g., my favorite knee-high vegan stompy boots, which need both zipper and heel repair before I can wear them again); ancient leather that is too worn to give away but not quite worn out enough to chuck (e.g., my ancient metal-heeled stompy boots, or my very first pair of Docs that I’ve had for 17 years, and have Nigel’s teething marks on the steel toes [albeit now underneath the silver paint and glitter I added to them a few years ago]); have heels that are rather too high, or cushioning too puny, for me to wear without exacerbating the lingering damage from the January meeting; or they’re my battered Converse high-tops, which are not work-friendly. For the past few months of work wear, I’ve been alternating between the red beaded maryjanes (ancient and falling apart, but not yet kaput) and the black Doctor Martens maryjanes (which are also ancient and, unfortunately, leather, but were secondhand from my mother). This will not do.

The requirements for new work shoes are (1) vegan; (2) at least a reasonable assurance that they’re sweatshop-free; (3) comfy, with room for cushy inserts; and (4) interesting enough for me to want to wear them, but not interesting enough that they’ll look unprofessional and scare the engineers. Oh, and also (5) affordable. Not surprisingly, it’s somewhat difficult to meet all of these criteria.

On the “holy crap, that’s almost as much as my monthly car payment” end of things, I found these shoes; there are several others in the range that are pretty cool, with interesting checkered or vine patterns, but there is no freakin’ way I would ever pay over $300 for shoes. I also have issues with the open toes: human feet are not particularly attractive to begin with, except to specialize interests, and when you squish the toes all together — and you’re starting with blocky feet such as my own — well, nobody really needs to see that. The advisability of wearing them for long hours, spent mostly on your feet running from seminar to seminar, is also in question.

There are several cool options at Vegetarian Shoes: a chunky brogue that would probably be okay for work/meeting and purple combat boots, which I could probably get away with at work, where they know me and just roll their eyes, but not at the meeting. (They’re so cute, though; I really want them. Also the black ones.) The conversion rate puts each of them at about $150, though, which is still rather a lot for me. (I think my most expensive shoes are my Docs, which cost about $100 when I bought them in 1990.) Still . . . vegan combat boots! I really want them. Add in the shipping, though, and that’s another $20 to $40, depending on how many shoes I ordered; that all adds up to a helluva lot of money.

The bat-buckle boots at Pennangalan Dreams are also covetable, but not much cheaper than the combats, and the pleather ones are out of stock; I’m also a little dubious about the zipper being flexible enough to accommodate All That Is My Feet — I’ve had issues with zippers breaking on my high instep, and pull-on boots requiring considerable third-party assistance when it came time for them to be pulled off. I also doubt that there’s room for cushy inserts, and the buckles might alarm the other meeting attendees.

I am in love with these sneakers from Alternative Outfitters, but, again, not really work-friendly. I’ve been considering the Bridget shoes at MooShoes for months now; they’re definitely work-friendly and at least vaguely interesting, so it’s possible that I’d actually wear them voluntarily, but I’m a little concerned about how much room there might be for adding cushioning. If they were cheaper, I’d probably take the risk, but if I’m going to spend a hundred bucks for shoes then I’d better damned well be thrilled to bits with them, not just sort of, “eh, they’re kind of cute. Ish.” Goodgoth has several really cute and reasonably priced shoes — unfortunately, I can’t link directly to them, but there’s a black maryjane with red lace on the toe that should be doable, and some buccaneer boots that I crave with a geeky passion. I mean, everybody needs vegan buccaneer boots!

No. Must stay focused: I need work/meeting shoes. I cannot get sidetracked by stompy combat boots or pirate boots or bat buckles or interesting purple sneakers.

But I want the interesting shoes. I don’t want to wear boring shoes. I particularly don’t want to spend money on boring shoes.

Great. I’m all depressed now. I think I’ll go make some cupcakes.

Nigel’s Bladder

May 2nd, 2007

Monday, while I was at work, Nigel stole an entire loaf of bread I’d baked this past weekend (”April’s ‘Bread Wot Is Amazing,’” from ExtraVeganZa, if anyone cares) and ate between one-half and two-thirds of it. This unexpected influx of whole spelt and brown rice, predictably, made him sick. Thus, I wasn’t too upset when he strewed solid waste all over the carpet on Monday while I was gone, and then peed on the carpet as I was cleaning it up. I didn’t even mind too much when he peed again on the kitchen floor, which I’d just mopped about half an hour before. He was obviously feeling ill, spending much of the evening lying at the end of the futon looking bloated, so I cut him some slack and just took him outside several more times than usual.

Then, Tuesday morning, he peed again on the carpet, then threw up. Okay: I assumed he was still sick, so I cleaned up the mess, was about half an hour late for work, and spent most of the day worrying about him. Happily, when I got home, he seemed in much better spirits — until he peed on the futon. I thought that perhaps the self-inflicted stomachache had thrown off his system, so I swore, scolded in a disappointed fashion (this was the first time he’d done it in front of me), cleaned it up, and flipped the mattress. Again, we went out for more than our usual number of times this evening, and he seemed to be back to his perky self. He was playful, his appetite was back, and he generally wanted attention (and got it).

Then, approximately 1:50 this morning, I awoke to the soft pattering of urine on vintage carpet. The good thing about this is that, after cleaning up his fourth accident in less than 48 hours, I now had enough laundry to complete my second Nigel-caused load of laundry in two days (I normally do laundry about once a week; these two are completely Nigel-inspired). The bad news is that it’s now nearly 2:45 in the freakin’ morning, I’ve gotten approximately two and a half hours of sleep, and I have a dog blocked in the bathroom with his water and bedding, whining and scratching at the door to be let out. He was howling for a while there, which I’m sure delighted my neighbors.

I hate confining Nigel, but if I can’t trust him to hold it through the night, despite extra trips outside, he needs to be in a place that will allow easier cleanup than the soft furnishings in the main room. I’ve set up a temporary blocking thing that I hope will confine him to the kitchen while I’m at work during the day; at least he’ll have more room than in the bathroom, though I hope he won’t knock over the supplemental kitchen shelving during an escape attempt. If this doesn’t work, I suppose I’ll be investigating doggie diapers next, and buying a waterproof sheet for the futon.

I can’t find my extra earplugs, either. I guess I’ll stick my fingers in my ears when I try to go back to sleep.

(Sorry for any incoherencies or typos. I’m not at my best right now. There’s no really good time for your dog’s bladder to go off on an indigestion-inspired bout of unreliability, but now is probably one of the less favorable times I would’ve picked, even so.)