Now that I have an official domain, "101 Uses for Baby Wipes dot com", I can now accept suggestions, ideas, criticism (I'm a big boy, I can take it) and editorial comments via the following e-mail address (the syntax is off a bit, to avoid spam);
submit (at) 101usesforbabywipes (dot)(com)
Replace the (at) with @, the (dot) with . and the (com) - well, you get the idea.
7.20.2005
Use #12. Vomit cleaner-upper
For parents, especially inept, inexperienced dads such as myself, it is important to watch the visual cues that can indicate the onslaught of trouble...in this case, car-sickness. I lacked such skills, but I am very glad that I had the necessary tools at-hand to protect my car's resale value.
First, the visual cues: There weren't any -- that was the visual cue. My son was far too quiet and removed from his surroundings. He was merely looking out the windows. That's what I'd be doing if I weren't driving. I saw nothing unusual in my rear-view mirror to suggest trouble. But he was also too passive, not playing with anything in the back seat. He has toys to play with of course, but there are greater thrills to be had when you're 4 and in the back seat of daddy's car. Kicking the center console comes to mind immediately. None of this was happening...I should've noticed something was amiss. I was enjoying the drive far too much - that in itself should've tipped me off. It was too quiet to be normal.
Second, the response: My son had eaten a normal amount of food prior to our little roadtrip through Yosemite. (As an aside, I humbly believe that Yosemite is some of God's best work, and I wasn't going to let a bit of vomit - well, quite a bit of vomit - from spoiling our trip through the spleandor of this place). So, before we even started on the trip, I told myself the old Boy Scout motto, over and over, and planned for emergencies such as this one. I had plastic bags on-hand, and plenty of baby wipes. What I didn't have was a wide spot on this windy stretch of 2-lane road to pull over!
5 minutes of searching, and we found a 'scenic overlook', complete with the necessary items for the response...trash cans. The baby wipes did an amazing job cleaning up the mess on kid, child safety seat (or car seat) and car upholstery. It was a warm day, so we pulled the car seat out to sit in the abundant sunshine and let natural sunlight do its thing to dry and de-odorize it.
It's all good, I thought. 15 minutes of delay was OK. Our sightseeing schedule won't be significantly impacted. My son looked a bit pale, I thought, but I'd expect that after what he'd been through. A few minutes in the fresh mountain air and my son looked fully re-charged and ready for anything (wrong assumption #1) so we piled back in the car, strapped in the car seat, then the kid, and off we went, figuring we'd just pull over again if he got sick again (wrong assumption #2). Besides, I thought, surely he was empty already (wrong assumption #3).
About a mile from the scenic overlook, it happened again, with more mass and force than I could have imagined. My little boy even managed to clip the back of my head with the remains of his breakfast. But alas, we're now stuck in a juggernaught of RV's and motorhomes making their way - as tourists do - at a snail's pace down the windy road. The words "Cruise America" are now ingrained in my memory, plastered in bright red in letter 6-feet high on the back of the motorhome we would follow for the next 40 minutes.
Slowness was not good. I could hear my kid's innards gurgling from the driver's seat. There was no car noise - we were hardly moving - but there was no place in sight to pull over. My wife, nimble woman that she is, managed to clean the mess from the front seat, and in her foresight had given the boy a plastic bag to wretch into if the need arose. Turns out most of the discharge made it into the bag, and I merely caught some rebound from the force of the moment. So, once again, baby wipes saved the day.
A bit of advice: If this happens to you, do yourself a big favor and check EVERYWHERE for stray bits of bile. On a hot day, like the day we drove through Yosemite, temperatures in the car can get hot enough to cause the stuff to ferment and really stink up the place. BE THOROUGH - clean everywhere, especially the crease between the seat and the seat back.
Cost: $0 - had the wipes already, had the plastic bags from a spree at Wal-Mart.
Savings: $300 or more, depending on what your car's upholstery costs to clean.
First, the visual cues: There weren't any -- that was the visual cue. My son was far too quiet and removed from his surroundings. He was merely looking out the windows. That's what I'd be doing if I weren't driving. I saw nothing unusual in my rear-view mirror to suggest trouble. But he was also too passive, not playing with anything in the back seat. He has toys to play with of course, but there are greater thrills to be had when you're 4 and in the back seat of daddy's car. Kicking the center console comes to mind immediately. None of this was happening...I should've noticed something was amiss. I was enjoying the drive far too much - that in itself should've tipped me off. It was too quiet to be normal.
Second, the response: My son had eaten a normal amount of food prior to our little roadtrip through Yosemite. (As an aside, I humbly believe that Yosemite is some of God's best work, and I wasn't going to let a bit of vomit - well, quite a bit of vomit - from spoiling our trip through the spleandor of this place). So, before we even started on the trip, I told myself the old Boy Scout motto, over and over, and planned for emergencies such as this one. I had plastic bags on-hand, and plenty of baby wipes. What I didn't have was a wide spot on this windy stretch of 2-lane road to pull over!
5 minutes of searching, and we found a 'scenic overlook', complete with the necessary items for the response...trash cans. The baby wipes did an amazing job cleaning up the mess on kid, child safety seat (or car seat) and car upholstery. It was a warm day, so we pulled the car seat out to sit in the abundant sunshine and let natural sunlight do its thing to dry and de-odorize it.
It's all good, I thought. 15 minutes of delay was OK. Our sightseeing schedule won't be significantly impacted. My son looked a bit pale, I thought, but I'd expect that after what he'd been through. A few minutes in the fresh mountain air and my son looked fully re-charged and ready for anything (wrong assumption #1) so we piled back in the car, strapped in the car seat, then the kid, and off we went, figuring we'd just pull over again if he got sick again (wrong assumption #2). Besides, I thought, surely he was empty already (wrong assumption #3).
About a mile from the scenic overlook, it happened again, with more mass and force than I could have imagined. My little boy even managed to clip the back of my head with the remains of his breakfast. But alas, we're now stuck in a juggernaught of RV's and motorhomes making their way - as tourists do - at a snail's pace down the windy road. The words "Cruise America" are now ingrained in my memory, plastered in bright red in letter 6-feet high on the back of the motorhome we would follow for the next 40 minutes.
Slowness was not good. I could hear my kid's innards gurgling from the driver's seat. There was no car noise - we were hardly moving - but there was no place in sight to pull over. My wife, nimble woman that she is, managed to clean the mess from the front seat, and in her foresight had given the boy a plastic bag to wretch into if the need arose. Turns out most of the discharge made it into the bag, and I merely caught some rebound from the force of the moment. So, once again, baby wipes saved the day.
A bit of advice: If this happens to you, do yourself a big favor and check EVERYWHERE for stray bits of bile. On a hot day, like the day we drove through Yosemite, temperatures in the car can get hot enough to cause the stuff to ferment and really stink up the place. BE THOROUGH - clean everywhere, especially the crease between the seat and the seat back.
Cost: $0 - had the wipes already, had the plastic bags from a spree at Wal-Mart.
Savings: $300 or more, depending on what your car's upholstery costs to clean.
Its Official!
It is now official...http:\\www.101usesforbabywipes.com is officially MINE!
Of course, it points right HERE right now, but its still MINE!
Its just a piece of code in a server on the internet, but its MINE!
I feel like I just bought a condo. I don't really OWN anythning, except for a claim to use the domain. When you buy a condo, you don't OWN the condo, just the airspace that the condo contains. You might own a percentage of the total complex...i.e. if there are 100 units in your condominium complex, and you own one unit in that complex, you may own one percent of the whole complex, and a claim to the air space enclosed by your unit. That 'ownership' depends on the conditions in the sale contract...buyer BEWARE! So by OWNing my domain, I own a teeny tiny piece of the internet.
A friend of mine owned a condo that burned to the ground. Problem is, he didn't own any percentage of the complex, just the airspace. He lived on the second floor, so when the condo burned down, his "property" was a block of air suspended 20 feet off the ground! The complex was never rebuilt, so he has no way to get to his "property" without a really big ladder.
I feel like I bought that air...I own 'something', its just not tangible, touchable, or, frankly, valuable...but its MINE!
Of course, it points right HERE right now, but its still MINE!
Its just a piece of code in a server on the internet, but its MINE!
I feel like I just bought a condo. I don't really OWN anythning, except for a claim to use the domain. When you buy a condo, you don't OWN the condo, just the airspace that the condo contains. You might own a percentage of the total complex...i.e. if there are 100 units in your condominium complex, and you own one unit in that complex, you may own one percent of the whole complex, and a claim to the air space enclosed by your unit. That 'ownership' depends on the conditions in the sale contract...buyer BEWARE! So by OWNing my domain, I own a teeny tiny piece of the internet.
A friend of mine owned a condo that burned to the ground. Problem is, he didn't own any percentage of the complex, just the airspace. He lived on the second floor, so when the condo burned down, his "property" was a block of air suspended 20 feet off the ground! The complex was never rebuilt, so he has no way to get to his "property" without a really big ladder.
I feel like I bought that air...I own 'something', its just not tangible, touchable, or, frankly, valuable...but its MINE!
Use #11. Makeup Remover.
Admittedly, this is not one of the uses I have personally tried. This one was phoned in, and comes from Laura, in suburban Boston. Apparently, baby wipes are quite useful for the task of removing makeup, and leave a fresh, clean, exfoliated face behind (or so I'm told).
There is just enough texture in the wipe to clean pores effectively, and at the same time enough moisture to break up dried-on makeup. Frankly, with all the exotic biochemicals found in makeup these days, I'd be afraid of spontaneous combustion right under my nose, a sort of chemical reaction with the alcohol in the wipes and the stuff in that bottle of flesh-colored paint. I mean, if they have to test the stuff on animals first, do you think its safe for people on a long-term basis?
I don't wear makeup myself, being a 40-something guy with enough self-esteem and decades of ingrained thinking that "makeup is for women only". I know men wear the stuff now, too. I've seen it on them at work, in public, and frankly it creeps me out just a tad.
I find it amusing, though, when I see guys with makeup chatting with girls with makeup, say, in a restaurant, and they're on a first date -- you can tell its a first date by the discussion topics and the body language -- and they both state that they want a relationship that's REAL...
Cost: $0 to remove makeup. Relationship Therapy is extra.
There is just enough texture in the wipe to clean pores effectively, and at the same time enough moisture to break up dried-on makeup. Frankly, with all the exotic biochemicals found in makeup these days, I'd be afraid of spontaneous combustion right under my nose, a sort of chemical reaction with the alcohol in the wipes and the stuff in that bottle of flesh-colored paint. I mean, if they have to test the stuff on animals first, do you think its safe for people on a long-term basis?
I don't wear makeup myself, being a 40-something guy with enough self-esteem and decades of ingrained thinking that "makeup is for women only". I know men wear the stuff now, too. I've seen it on them at work, in public, and frankly it creeps me out just a tad.
I find it amusing, though, when I see guys with makeup chatting with girls with makeup, say, in a restaurant, and they're on a first date -- you can tell its a first date by the discussion topics and the body language -- and they both state that they want a relationship that's REAL...
Cost: $0 to remove makeup. Relationship Therapy is extra.
Technical Difficulties Resolved.
I have resigned myself to simply re-enter the old blog info into a new one, rather than trying to get anyone in tech support to understand my plight.
You may've noticed that there haven't been any new postings here since 2004...that's a long time, isn't it? That's because shortly after I established my original blog back in 2004, the provider was absorbed in borg-like style, assimilated, consumed in-whole, by a larger fish in the blogging world. During this absorption / consumption process, my account information was digested and passed, leaving the new blog organism entirely, never to be found again.
In other words: I had a blog, but I could not log in to add, change, edit or otherwise manage it.
Since I blog for sport and not for profit, I was not terribly worried about the situation. I have a life, a job, a family and all the time-consuming activities that go along with being an active parent, so this little technical glitch was not a concern. I had other ways to use my time. I thought that I'd work the system, allow the tech support folks fix the problem. But in efficient, borg-like style, the automated responses to my e-mail pleas for help always started with "you must log in...".
I could see that tech support had missed the point entirely. If I could "log in" I would. But I can't. You deleted the friggin' login page I used to access my original blog! It doesn't exist anymore. Only the remnants of the original content (and an ad for a company that's out of business) remain.
Someday, I will organize the 1,718 automated responses I recieved from the original blog service...but for now, I will simply say "hi" and "its good to be back".
You may've noticed that there haven't been any new postings here since 2004...that's a long time, isn't it? That's because shortly after I established my original blog back in 2004, the provider was absorbed in borg-like style, assimilated, consumed in-whole, by a larger fish in the blogging world. During this absorption / consumption process, my account information was digested and passed, leaving the new blog organism entirely, never to be found again.
In other words: I had a blog, but I could not log in to add, change, edit or otherwise manage it.
Since I blog for sport and not for profit, I was not terribly worried about the situation. I have a life, a job, a family and all the time-consuming activities that go along with being an active parent, so this little technical glitch was not a concern. I had other ways to use my time. I thought that I'd work the system, allow the tech support folks fix the problem. But in efficient, borg-like style, the automated responses to my e-mail pleas for help always started with "you must log in...".
I could see that tech support had missed the point entirely. If I could "log in" I would. But I can't. You deleted the friggin' login page I used to access my original blog! It doesn't exist anymore. Only the remnants of the original content (and an ad for a company that's out of business) remain.
Someday, I will organize the 1,718 automated responses I recieved from the original blog service...but for now, I will simply say "hi" and "its good to be back".
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