Jan
9
I talked with JB this morning and he told me that Riley had been coughing, had sounded phlegmy and awful and he woke up at 3 and JB was so worried about the sound of his breathing he slept propped in our bed with Riley in his arms until 6, when presumably the various ominous creaking sounds in his back woke everyone up for good.
He took Riley to the pediatrician who diagnosed croup. Croup! I told my coworker about this and she said, “Croup? I thought no one got that any more.” Croup is so 1800’s.
But no, croup is alive and well and currently residing in my baby boy’s air passages. Riley got some kind of oral steroid (…steroids? Really? Is he going to, like, grow a bunch of zits and Hulk out and start whaling on us when the sippy cup isn’t produced in time?) and was sent home where according to JB he’s eating and acting just fine, except for this seal-bark cough business.
I know just how stressful the last 24 hours has been for JB and it was scary to be so far away and have to wait to hear what the doctor said and I feel really, really bad that Riley got sick while I’m gone.
And maybe I’m also just a tiny, eentsy, microscopic bit glad I missed it. Maybe.
(THIS JUST IN: I AM A BAD PERSON.)
My first full day at Macworld went by surprisingly quickly, normally I feel like I spend a lot of time standing around bitching about how much my feet hurt and how booooring it all is but today I found myself oddly excited to talk with people. There is something great about connecting with people in person, seeing real live humans that love Workplace’s software; for a marketing person who mostly writes gobbledygook that gets tossed out at sea for the faceless masses it’s satisfying in some deeply geeky way.
I saw Macworld Hugging Lady, the incredibly wonderful woman who *hugs* me each and every year and tells me how much she likes that newsletter thingie I write. “I missed you last year, girl. You had that baby, right?” she asked, and I said yes I sure did.
I also saw Ed, the folksy elderly gentleman who I swear has stepped right from the magnolia-scented pages of some wonderful old novel set in the South, whose accent I could listen to all day long. I see Ed every Macworld, bless his heart, he comes for the whole damn week. We talked about aching feet and he said, “Yep, them old girls start talking after a while, don’t they.”
My only view of S.F. today was the path between my hotel and the Moscone, for the most part, and as I type this I have a room service pizza cooling on the table, intended as comfort food to make amends for the embarrassing, lame “meet and greet” I was subjected to a few hours ago. Yes, I treat emotional discomfort with food, is that UNHEALTHY or something?
Hey, so I was right on the iPhone announcement, but that was kind of a no-shitter. The price point pisses me off, because I’m sure I’ll want one of the damn things by the time they ship. I don’t even like cell phones. Stupid Apple and their stupid compelling consumer products.
I feel like an impostor this week, every aspect of my day is so unlike my normal life it’s truly bizarre. I am enjoying myself somewhat and feeling guilty for that, because the fact that I’m taking any pleasure from this temporary state of affairs seems bad, like I should just be completely unhappy and vowing never to travel again ever because O the tragic separation of mother and child, and then I get irritated with myself for feeling guilty because god, I only have one event per year that requires travel, it’s no big deal, and really, the fun never stops when it comes to parenting self-criticism.
Okay, I have a question for you guys: why do hotels include both a built-in gratuity charge and a place to add a tip on that little piece of paper you sign when you get room service? I mean, if they add 16% to the bill for the gratuity, isn’t that sufficient?
Lastly, the view from my hotel window this morning:
P.S. My aunt’s blog continues to be extremely awesome. I recommend bookmarking that page, because her writing is worth your while.
Jan
9
January 8, 2006
I’ll have you know I am updating my blog while technically “at Macworld” but I am most emphatically not blogging Macworld. I believe I would need a pair of smudged Elvis Costello glasses to be any good at the latter, or at least the desire to set my alarm for 4 AM in order to stand in line for tomorrow’s keynote, which: no. I would rather eat a grasshopper, seriously.
My prediction: new iPods, new eentsy-sized laptops, and the iPhone everyone’s peeing themselves over. YOU SAW IT HERE FIRST.
(Note: I actually have no idea what Jobs is going to blather about tomorrow, I just pulled that out of my ass. Yes, you’re welcome.)
My luggage made it, thank god, and it was amazingly one of the very first bags to come ka-thunking down the carousel. I recognized it by my incredibly fancy Black Suitcase Differentiation System, which involves one of Cat’s old collars wound around the handle.
The weather in San Francisco today was unbelievably wonderful, at least compared to Seattle’s never-ending dark and dreary (and increasingly cold) downpour – it was sunny and clear and I wish like hell I could visit this city when I’m not mired in tradeshow crapitude because I never have time to see anything but the 5-block radius around the Moscone.
But, it is kind of fun being here. Even though I miss Riley like an amputated limb (it’s a physical ache more than emotional, which I didn’t expect: it’s like I am missing some critical anatomical element). For instance:
• There is a Bloomingdale’s just across the street. Oh baby.
• We ate Thai food at some little place nearby and holy shit, was it ever good.
• I saw Pan’s Labyrinth (gorgeous, dark, sad [I cried like a big wiener], wonderful) tonight in what has to be the most comfortable theater I’ve ever been in.
• Also: room service. Creme brulee after 10 PM? DON’T MIND IF I DO.
Early (way, way too early) this morning.
Coming into S.F.
Street near the hotel.
Dudes playing some catchy music. I am such a tourist.
My home away from home for the week. Notable features: freakishly giant pillows, single-cup coffeemaker.
I slobbed up the bathroom in about five seconds.
On the downside, the soda machine here in the hotel demands $2.50 for a plastic bottle of Diet Coke. TWO DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS, what the everloving FUCK.
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