Alder's Tone

What's the difference between a pregnant woman and a lightbulb?

You can unscrew a lightbulb.

And undoing 3 years of use of a single blog in a MT installation that has just been applied on top of previous versions, well it's just not going to work at some point is it? And that point is now. I can't publish pages, God alone knows why, but if I create a new blog in the same installation then no problem. No errors, all there in the database, just no files created. Can I find wayward directory permissions, or a setting anywhere? Can I chuff. Can I do it in a vanilla blog? Oh yes.

That's me...So all the style additions I had to make manually in the early days that were added in a different form in later version of MT, well I'm having to unwind them all and undo them, or so I fear.

I think I'll use the ability to have two blogs, one for testing and a possible migration over at some point, in the meantime I still can't get my head around how difficult MT can be sometimes for the really simple stuff.

If only there was an "unscrew it up" button. I've done something at some point I shouldn't have... Just wish I could figure out what so I can undo it or change it.

Posted by Alder at 26 November 2009 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Spiffing, dahhlingSpiffing, dahhling, vunderbar, encore! Actually there wasn't an encore, not unless you count the dodging of the swampies on the way out, protesting about something or other.

Our first theatre trip, with the Gents, went surprisingly well.

We booked it months ago, and never really hyped it up. It was a balancing act as "We're Going on a Bear Hunt" was the book of choice for a while, but we knew the shine would wear off by the time we got to see the stage show. A balancing act we managed to do well, ease off, ramp it back up just before going.

I was amazed to find the book is 20 years old this year. So old, yet I wish I was only 20 again!

Sorry, slight distraction there. Boy wonder has been finishing off the lines for ages, more recently telling you when you've missed bits, especially in the quick chase back home. Oh dear, you're in for a telling if you don't go back downstairs to close the door. Not unlike at home, he's obsessed with closing doors.

Dress circle, row A. Not quite in the Gods, but on the front row upstairs. Hmm, that ledge is ripe for looking over. No worries though, sat down, legs crossed, and never budged an inch. Even when Daddy sat him on his knee to see over the ledge at one point with closer action he soon sat back down in his own seat, legs crossed, and got back into it. Applause was given at the end of each scene or song, lines were finished off, and a lot of "not scared" moments along the way.

After going through the grass (swishy, swashy), the river (splosh, splash), the mud (squelch, squerch), and every other hazard known to man, we found the bear. A cuddly teddy bear, not a big scary one. But you can't have a theatre packed with 3-year-olds trying to comfort their parents when it scares them silly, can you...?

Posted by Alder at 14 November 2009 | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm hoping this post becomes quite interactive…. So get posting comments. Please...

Closing date:
3rd March
There are a lot of old wives tales out there about working out the gender of a baby. Even the wackiest ones have a good 50/50 chance of being right. But even Grandma has her ideas, based on nothing more than the fact she's making observations that are clearly putting her in the "Old Wife" camp. So without trying to list every single on here, what I'd like to do is get some comments on the go, maybe some questions back & forth, and have a poll running from now until March to see what the general opinion is. All will be vindicated or discredited in March of course!

So, what observations have you made about our number 2, MOTS, what do you need to know to make an assessment, and which OWT are we basing that on? In case you suspect to be discredited, real names can be disguised when posting your comment!

Is MOTS carrying at the front, as she got a preference for sweet over sour food, was it a full moon at conception, does my wedding ring spin clockwise when I fall over in a drunken stupor (I'll give an update to this on Friday night)?

Happy to answer question to help the answers for any particular OWT, just make sure you post the OWT and the result here, and remember to vote:

What I'm hoping for in the comments is a description of the OWT and the prediction of Wotsit's gender based on that OWT. Kudos to the correct OWTs, and hoping the failures are correct with number 3!

Posted by Alder at 11 November 2009 | Permalink | Comments (10)

Looking back to one of the very early posts about gender and whether or not we should know in advance, we have a slightly different dilemma this time.

Firstly, it's not just us to consider. "Baby in Mummy's tummy" is becoming a common phrase at home. I'm not sure he knows exactly what it means, but having a listen when Wotsit is active is helping.

Walking from the train station to nursery in a morning usually involves a question:

"Do you want to walk or go on Daddy's shoulders?"
"Daddy's shoulders."

Or...

"Do you want to go on Daddy's shoulders or walk?"
"Walk"

It usually follows that the answer is the last option presented. We're trying this theory out with toilet training, and when it comes to sister or brother.

"Do you want a baby brother or a baby sister?"
"Baby sister"

So far, so good.

"Do you want a baby sister or a baby brother?"
"Baby sister"

D'oh!

Even when quizzed "Do you want a baby sister like Melissa or a baby brother like Daniel?" he'll respond "sister, Melissa". Well, that's that then.

The second point is the results that landed on the doormat. After the amniocentesis come the chromosome test results. And XX or XY is in there, no ultrasound scan doubts, no "it might not be guaranteed", this one is absolutely known. When MOTS got the phonecall for the verbal results she was asked - "Do you want to know?". And the negative response was respected. What we didn't expect was to be sent them anyway.

So there they sit, in an envelope marked "Do not open if you do not want to know the sex of your baby". Sealed. The contents known by the lab and the midwife who called. And there it sits.

Only last night I caught MOTS sat in the dark in the dining room looking at how to get into it without making it look like it had been opened. After a rebuff I took it, opened it, scrunched up some new sellotape and sealed it in a manner where it was obvious it had been opened, but would never be clear whether or not it has been looked at.

The temptation is there, and we have been told someone opened theirs on Christmas day. I just fancy leaving until until next March...

Posted by Alder at 06 November 2009 | Permalink | Comments (3)