For those who have been following my on-going saga with the “other” category in iTunes, holding your breath as you wait to see who would win in this battle of wills (please, isn’t a blow-by-blow of phone issues a scintillating read?), I will tell you that the end of the story is like a magician’s trick: you have no clue what just happened, but it was definitely cool and there were lots of doves flying out of handkerchiefs and stuff like that.

Just to recap: the “other” category in iTunes had gotten so large that I couldn’t keep necessary apps on the phone.  “Other” was the largest use of space on the phone.  An aside: I am well aware that this is a first world problem.  But I was (1) cranky that I had a tool that couldn’t do what I needed it to do because I couldn’t figure out how to fix it, and (2) I felt so much anxiety having wasted space filled with corrupted files on the phone.  Let’s not discuss my mental state, but please remember that I am the woman who bleaches the inside of the dishwasher regularly.  I like things neat.  I do not like unnecessary apps much less files that I can’t find on my phone.  It was like carrying a mess in my pocket at all times.

So I was going to restore to factory settings to see if that cleared up the problem.  I decided that yesterday would be a good day to do this because if all went to hell — which it did near Thanksgiving when the phone was accidentally erased due to some bad advice I received as we tried to fix this problem — I had the rest of the week to haul myself back to the Genius Bar for help.

I synced the phone, and the “other” category was around 6 GB.  I synced the phone a second time, and the “other” category climbed to 6.24 GB.  I worried that some of my calendar information didn’t come over with the sync (what can I say?  I’m thorough and I bleach the inside of my dishwasher), so I synced one last time.

And then, without so much as a whisper of abracadabra, the “other” category showed 882.4 MB.  And I had a sea of free space.

I blinked at the screen a few times, synced the phone a few more times to make sure the free space wouldn’t disappear, and then loaded back on all the apps I haven’t been able to have for months due to my “other” problem.  Oh, and in a daze of disbelief, emailed Allison to say, “what the hell?”

I wish I knew what changed; what made the phone finally self-clean-up its mess.  All I know is that I felt a huge sense of relief, as if my phone had finally blown its nose and dislodged all the gunk it had been sniffling around for months.  It made me feel calm, collected, mentally clearer.

It’s sad when something so tiny can niggle me in such a huge way, and the inverse is equally sad too: that I can feel such a sense of inner peace at having this problem solved.  But I own both facts.  I feel really really peaceful having that mess cleaned up, even if I don’t quite know how it happened.

I like everything in order: from my notes to my phone.  Clean.  Neat.  Corners straight.  Apps in their proper place.

My cousin posted a picture on Facebook of the Millennium Falcon that her husband bought her on eBay when she mentioned to him that her mother would never get her the toy when she was a child.  This prompted a few people to chime in with the toys they coveted as a child.  I really had to rack my brain to come up with one.  Which probably tells me that the desire for mine didn’t run particularly deep. (Note to Josh: Please do not buy me mine.  It actually creeps me out quite a bit when I look at it now.)

I remember all my old favourite toys from childhood: my Andy Gibb doll, the rubbery Kentucky Fried Chicken man (he was a doctor who performed horrific experiments in our games), my Playmobil sets (especially the knight one that had a pure white horse with a matte finish), and the Missing Link.  But it took me a lot of thought to come up with one toy that I wanted that my parents wouldn’t get me.

And that is the disembodied Barbie head.

Image: Mike Mozart via Flickr
Forgive the fact that Mike Mozart is in the photo above.  It was the only image being offered under a CC license.

It was a plastic head, about life-size if Barbie was the size of a ten-year-old child, and you could style her hair and smear “makeup” on her face.  I assume I was not given this toy because (1) it made a mess, (2) it was poorly made and the makeup left behind a dingy tinge to the plastic skin after one use, and (3) it taught girls bad lessons about their appearance blah blah blah.

My friend had this disembodied Barbie head, and I liked playing with it at her house, even though she wouldn’t allow me to run with great ideas such as shading in all of Barbie’s skin with the green eyeshadow (you know, to give her a peaky look pre-vomit) or giving her black lips with a Magic Marker.

It’s really a bizarre, out-of-character toy for me to want considering that I still, to this day, do not wear makeup.  I don’t mean that I don’t put on foundation, etc.  I mean that I don’t even wear lipstick.  Or eyeliner.  Nothing goes on my face.  Pretty much ever.  I don’t really style my hair insomuch as I run some gel through it and let it air-dry.  Or I slick it back in a bun if I can’t deal with having hair touch my face.  So why the hell did I want a toy where I could practice a skill I would never employ in my adult life?  Isn’t that the point of child’s play?  To work out how we think we’ll navigate the adult world?  Beyond a phase in high school where I wore blue or black lipstick, I’ve never had any desire to wear makeup.

Oh well.  Next life, when I’m reincarnated, I’m totally going to covet something better.  Like that Millennium Falcon.

What toy did you want as a child?  And would you still want it if you got it as an adult?

Thank you for the recommendations on the Roundup for books and documentaries pertaining to the British royal family.  A few were in the library (and we found a few others on YouTube, though got distracted by the original footage of Princess Diana’s interview with Bashir which ran in the background of The Queen), and we’ve already started watching a documentary on the Queen’s Jubilee year.

In it, the announcer attributed a quote to the Queen: “I have to be seen to be believed” and explained how this concept conveys into action.  She is on the road constantly, abroad and at home.  She is purposefully amongst the people as a tangible reminder of their government, of living history.  Because the opposite is true too: if she remained locked up in the castle, she wouldn’t have a deep connection with the people.  How can you when you don’t see the people you are administering to, and they can’t see you?  How can they feel affection for you if you barely seem real; this far-off entity that feels like a character out of a piece of historical fiction rather than a living and breathing human.  With feelings.  Because… that’s sort of the point I think she makes walking amongst her people: I am here.  I am real.  I am a human being with feelings, just like you.  I am vulnerable, just like you.  I am mortal, just like you.

Image: The Irish Labour Party via Flickr

As we watched the documentary, I kept turning over that idea in my head because I sort of feel that writing our blogs follows in the same vein.  Our words have to be seen to be believed.  That we need others to read our words and consider our words (or else, we’d write in a private journal) in order to mark our existence.  We’re here.  We exist.  We have feelings.  We need people to believe in us, perhaps not in the same way that the Queen needs her subjects to believe in her.  But on a small scale, we all need a few people in this world to believe in us, to believe that we’re good people, worthy of being around — or, at least our words are worthy to be around in the virtual sense.

We need to be seen.  We need to be believed.  We need to be believed in.  We need people out there to show us some interest.  We need to feel a connection to the people around us, through leaving behind our words or reading someone else’s words.  We need to comment, to interact.  That belief is a social contract; that we are both acknowledging each other, nodding our heads.  I’ve noticed you.  You’ve noticed me.  We both have recognized each other’s existence.

I kept thinking about how deeply hurt the Queen was in the movie The Queen (yes, it’s fiction, but… I assume based on something more than just assumption) when she walked amongst the people outside the palace after learning that one in four wanted to be done with the monarchy.  That hurt stemmed from being completely misunderstood, with having meaning attributed to her actions (staying at Balmoral) with people only knowing a small slice of the story and assuming they knew the whole thing.

And again, we see the same hurts play out daily in the blogosphere; the snarky comments, the misconstrued words, even the helpful criticism that makes the writer feel like shit when they see their foibles noticed in black and white.

Most of the time, we don’t take it with the grace the Queen continues to show year after year of living out the entirety of her life in the public’s eye.

There’s a lot you can learn from older generations.

On a side note, all these documentaries and movies are making me walk around the house, speaking in a horrible British accent.  The ChickieNob and I particularly like to say to each other, “P-p-p-p-positively medieval!”  Or, “it’s ma’am, as in ham.  Not mah’am, as in palm.”  We’re so going to end up as living history reenactors.

The ChickieNob has fallen in love with the British royal family.

Up until now, her affection has been entirely for US presidents.  She is freakishly knowledgeable about presidents, first ladies, first children, and first mothers (though, strangely enough, not first fathers).  Oh, and first family pets.  And the White House itself.  She can name every president by sight, rattle off a few facts about each one, tell you their administration’s major accomplishments, and give you a quote or two from one of their speeches.  I’m telling you, she’s a great party trick.

And then, a few weeks ago, just like that, stories about the Queen were suddenly in our home.  She started talking about the British royal family as if they were distant relatives on the family tree or characters in a particularly juicy book.  She affectionately gave her opinion on everyone from Queen Victoria to Kate Middleton.  And she followed on my heels while I tried to cook, telling me all about their various affairs and arranged marriages and wars.

We let her watch The Queen (she is fiercely protective of Diana) and The King’s Speech with us.  We’re looking for other great movies or documentaries you can recommend.  I think that Elizabeth is a little too racy for her.  (The King’s Speech is rated R, but it’s for language.  And language doesn’t really bother us.  We just don’t want mature themes or violence.)

Has anyone seen (and can give an opinion on) any of these films?  I know nothing about them:

• The Young Victoria
• Hyde Park on Hudson
• Elizabeth: The Golden Age
• Wallis and Edward
• The Madness of King George

Or really, recommend anything tied to the British royal family (at any point in time).

I’m sort of digging having the royal family verbally around.  They’ve really grown on me.

Ooooh, just wait until she branches out into prime ministers.

*******

So we decided to do a party for the twins’ birthday, and we’re going with a Minute to Win It theme.  Dozens of games which each take one minute to play with the kids divided into two teams.

It’s less work than their original idea, which was “The Spring Olympics” where they wanted to come up (and have me execute) eight “Olympic”-like games.  With a full medal ceremony at the end.  Uh… no, thank you.

This is a lot less work.  A lot less fuss.  Just make two cakes, grab a few props, rope in a few friends to help, and we’re good to go.

*******

And now the blogs…

But first, second helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week.  In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• “This is Why I Read Your Blog” (Stirrup Queens) — thank you, St. Elsewhere!
• “I Finally Made it” (Waiting for Baby Bird)

Okay, now my choices this week.

No Words to Say It has a post about being a perfectionist and how that affected her during her struggle with infertility as well as the transition into adoptive parenting.  She writes so gorgeously about her connection with her child’s first parent, “I looked up at her, and suddenly, I knew that trying to look and sound perfect on the day that we met was ridiculous. I knew this because the eyes mine met in that moment were my own. There was no need to be perfect. There was just a need to be me. To be the best I could be for her. And her.”  The post is just beautiful and an important reminder.

In a very brief, mostly visual post, Mona Darling gives us a fantastic Eleanor Roosevelt quote.  One that maybe everyone should have posted somewhere prominently (and permanently) in their field of vision.

Edenland gives us a post to bookmark and read every time we get a nasty blog comment.  All of the stages are applicable to any angry encounter in the face-to-face world too.  It’s brilliant advice that will hopefully get you quickly to stage 5.

Lastly, I cannot resist sharing Two Adults, One Child follow-up Disney post.  Ooooh, I just love Disney, and all of the advice she’s giving is bookmarkable too.  It sounds like a lot has changed from the last time we were there, including the magic bands and the way they now do FastPass tickets.  So I read it now, but then I bookmarked it to save it for later because… Disney!

The roundup to the Roundup: Recommend movies about the royal family.  The party idea we ultimately decided to do.  And lots of great posts to read.  So what did you find this week?  Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between March 28th and April 4th) and not the blog’s main url. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week?  Read the original open thread post here.

I am in deep-hate of people using pregnancy announcements as their April Fool’s joke, but I cracked up reading Techcrunch’s fertility-based April Fool’s joke this morning.

They reported on a new item called “Pokr.”  It’s a silicone “finger” that you insert into your vagina in order to check your cervical mucous.  The other end plugs into your phone and… well… I’ll let Techcrunch explain how it works:

To use Pokr, a user simply plugs it into her smartphone and inserts it into her vagina. Then she shakes her phone so the app can detect her CM and gauge its viscosity using a proprietary algorithm.

As I was imagining how my child would feel if they encountered this in my purse while searching for my constant box of Newman’s Own mints, I got to the punchline at the end.  Oh ho!  It’s a joke!  Making fun of the amount of personal information about our bodies we’re tracking with our phones, and how humans like to take simple daily tasks and make them more complicated by involving technology.  Not to mention the various fertility apps which are aimed to make a dollar off your fertility or aid you in conceiving; depending on how cynical you are about companies such as the creators of Glow.

I was sort of shocked then when I got to the comment section and people were tearing the author a new asshole.  The comments ran a short line between “ew, touching cervical mucous!  Women are nasty!” and “it is irresponsible to make a joke that involves vaginas when the tech industry has a misogyny issue.”  The author is female, which only “makes it worse” since women should know better than to make a joke about women in an area of society that already has an existing and well-documented problem with women.

Secretly, I asked in my head, “what area of society doesn’t already have an existing and well-documented problem with women?”

The author hinted that she is infertile (“I do have health issues that required me to track my BBT/CM daily”) hence why this joke possibly resonated so well with me.  I got it.  I live it, so I got it.  And if you don’t live with this mentality, if you simply have sex when you feel like having a baby, you probably won’t get it.  So I understand the first line of commenting.  You’re a lucky person if you can ignorantly say, “ew, touching cervical mucous!”

What I didn’t get was the second line of commentary because I actually saw this as a tongue-in-cheek poke (no pun intended) at male developers making products for women.  Do they even know what women want or need, or are they just copying off each other like the processed food industry?  Do the people who make fertility apps like Glow truly understand infertility, or are they just copying what Fertility Friend already successfully accomplished over a decade ago, repackaging it for a lady on the go?

What do you think?  Is it a joke for or at the expense of women?