A better quality dishwasher is worth the money, Gudanov. The better-made ones last longer. (I was surprised to find out that the one I'm having repaired is now 20 years old, and the only thing wrong with it right now is that a valve has the hard water equivalent of hardening of the arteries.)

A friend of mine says "Beware false economies" -- not meaning country-size ones, but going cheap when it looks like it saves you a few bucks. Looking into the long term -- will a couple extra features make a big difference into how well it runs or you enjoy it, will the extra expensive materials hold up better years down the line, will it wear out faster?

(The corollary of "Beware false luxuries" also needs to be considered, or you end up paying extra for knobs that go up to 11 .)

It wasn't so much the extra knobs as just the feel of everything. Spending a bit more got us something that felt far more solid and looked like it would hold more dishes. Plus it just looked much prettier with all that stainless steel.

A nice piece on that Northwestern Human Sexuality course, from someone who took it a few years ago: [link]

I have found 2 jobs this morning to apply for. Both will be very low pay, but they have insurance and are back in the non-profit world which might be good for me. Now to just apply, write a damn cover letter and send it off.

Apply, msbelle! Apply like the wind!!

I had a human sexuality course in my college--had to wait till my senior year to get in, it was that popular--and it was kind of revelatory. Lots of films, no live demonstrations, even after hours. At the first class, the prof passed around 3x5 cards and said to write down questions that would be answered through the year. After 3 years of college and exposure to psych classes and history classes and philosophy and a couple of boyfriends and all that, I'd picked up some interesting information. My question was "I'm female, I've never played doctor, I don't have penis envy, I don't hate my body. What's wrong with me?" He eventually got to my question, read it outloud, and said, "Nothing's wrong, you're perfectly normal, stop worrying."

It's kind of validating at age 20 to be told flat out "You're perfectly normal, stop worrying." I'd gone to the campus shrink the year before with some basic existential angst, and he asked if my grades were OK and I was getting my laundry done and all that. I said yes and he said, "You're OK, but go ahead and come back if any of that changes." It was my introduction to the idea that if you're managing your life fairly well that you shouldn't be afraid you're losing it. It's worked for me.

Tense phone call. For a company that's the nicest I've ever worked at, there's one particular combination of personalities that is instant conflagration.

Users don't like our search engine, because when they type in really common terms (like the title of our industry) it brings up hundreds of results and not the one form they want. And content owners want to rig the searches so their stuff comes up first for a given search term.

Oy.

Hayden, that recap was hilarious. Here's to it being a regular gig.

ita, can you tell them that mind-reading costs extra?

oyes I am being ever so helpful today in so many ways.

Great Moments in Parenting:

This morning as I was getting ready to leave, I snuzzled down with Matilda for a little bit of cuddling and bonding (she complains mightily if anybody walks out the door without paying the hugs-and-kisses toll). She patted my face, inspected my lipstick and proclaimed it sufficiently red (I had worn a subtle shimmery shade to juliana's play on Saturday, and Matilda Did Not Approve), and then put her hands on my cheeks and gazed into my eyes. Her pink little face, framed in muzzy bedhead curls, grew alight with an intense, delighted ardor, and my heart broke into a million helpless pieces.

"Mommy?" she said in tones of reverent, numinous delight.

"Yes, honeybug?"

"When I look at your eyes, I can see my own reflection!"

I've come to the conclusion that dealing with 4-year-olds carries many of the same pitfalls as dealing with cats and dogs; just like with my pets, I keep making the fatal mistake of anthropomorphizing - I receive some kind of feedback and erroneously attribute it to a recognizably human emotion. With a 4-year-old, just as with a cat or dog, this is almost always 100% completely wrong.