Monday, December 28, 2009

Merry Christmas

Husband truly is a remarkable character. I am constantly amazed by the way his brain works (especially how he can manage to park 4 cars in our double garage and not dent anything, but that's a whole other story). I came to this new realization again after opening my Christmas presents to discover 2 beautiful sweaters that fit me perfectly and look great on me. I don't understand. I go clothes shopping and take racks of clothes in with me to try on, of which nothing fits (or looks nice for that matter) and he can go without the benefit of a scale model of me and pick clothes that do both.

While thinking about this for a while, I came to a few conclusions about how this is possible.

1. I am more critical of myself.

It's how we are as women... I guess perhaps I think that there are magical clothes out there that can make me look like Jennifer Aniston and when I try on clothes that make me look like... well ME (with all the help that flourescent lighting and mirrors so close that you can't help but put all the focus on your thighs) I am somewhat disappointed.

2. I am more critical of the price tags.

How many times have I left a change room thinking "That was a nice pair of $20 pants... unfortunately the sticker said $70, and there is no way in this green earth I will pay that much for pants, maybe I'll buy them when they go on sale for $20."

3. I look at the number on the tag, not the size of the clothes.

It's a common mistake I think most women make. Please join me in my 12 step program. I believe the numbers (admitting you have a problem is the first step). I choose clothes off the rack based on the number, not the shape. Husband, on the other hand looks at the shape, has no idea what number is on the rest of my clothes and goes based on visual. He actually gets annoyed when overzealous salespeople try to help him find the right size.

Husband sees me every day... the person I really am. He sees me in clothes and not in clothes (sorry mom, it's true), whether I am glammed up for a night out, or spending the day in my pjs and cutting my toenails. He probably knows how I actually look better than I do (especially since I stand up straighter and put my shoulders back whenever I look in the mirror).

I am deluded, and I'm pretty sure I don't like it. Maybe I should just get Husband to buy all my clothes. Maybe if I ask nicely, he'll just cut the tags off before giving them to me too.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Veggie Bacon

I try to shop by the idea that if it connects you to the ground, you should buy good quality. This means tires, mattresses and shoes (among others). Tires, different ones for different seasons. Mattresses, queen-sized, firm. Shoes, leather.

This is why I am not a vegetarian.

I really believe that it would be inhumane to strip animals of their skin and leave their carcasses to rot in the sun. I am willing to make these sacrifices.

The one thing I don't understand about vegetarianism, is where the notion came from that while it's wrong to eat meat, it's somehow ok to eat things that taste like meat. Wouldn't you find meat repulsive?

Let's think about this on a grander scale. I think we can all agree that cannibalism is probably wrong, so would it not seem odd if I asked for my beef to taste like brunette? "I really would like these carrots seasoned like red-head, you see, I won't actually EAT a red-head, but I really am craving one right now."

Put that in your house and smoke it. Mmm. That makes me think of bacon. Sweet sweet bacon.

Friday, December 11, 2009

My Fortunes.

Normally I'm not the kind of person who believes that the universe has a voice and is trying to tell me something. I said, NORMALLY.

I went to a Chinese restaurant while visiting Cowtown and as I was in the car trying to put Girl to sleep to diffuse a potential meltdown on the car ride home, my family took it upon themselves to open my fortune cookie for me. In the midst of their pithy sayings about financial fortune being on the doorstep and love finding them when they least expect it, my fortune said this:

You are capable compent, creative, careful. Prove it.

What gives? Why can't I have some fortune that says I will be rich without trying or loved by all? Why does my fortune need to be a challenge? As much as I believe that my goal in life is to make as much money by working as little as possible, I have put in a lot of time, creative energy and passion into this pursuit. I guess it's time to prove what I can really do.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

World View


I don't believe in Kharma, I don't think I ever have. The idea that being good and doing good will somehow result in good things happening to you seems like a nice idea, but in reality I have never seen it to be so. In fact, I have seen quite the opposite. People who are strong, loving, honest and good are the ones who get the raw deal, and the people who win the lottery and find pots of gold in their houses are the people who are dishonest, conniving and have little respect for others.

I don't have a problem with people who are successful, in fact, they inspire me to get off my butt and do something about it, but it does make me angry when people abuse the system to get what they want, and then cry about how "no one respects them". Sorry folks, you can't have it both ways.

To all those people who are successful based on merit, hard work, inspiration or just plain dumb luck... congratulations! Keep it up and don't let anyone stand in your way. To those of you who see the law as "inconvenient" or as a "guideline", and who use other people to get where you are going... I hope someday you are revealed for the fraud you are. However, that likely won't happen, because like I said, I don't believe in Kharma.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Free Cereal.

Yesterday I bought free cereal, and I couldn't be prouder of myself. I still send curses (good-natured ones of course) south of the border... especially to those people who can manage to get carts full of free stuff, but I was able to do it in my own small way.

This all started when Husband told me not to buy cereal for a while, since he eats vast quantities of it, and he has decided to switch to oatmeal for breakfast now that it's colder. Oats are significantly cheaper than cereal, so it's win win. BUT... I can't resist free.

Mini Wheats were on sale at Sobeys this week 3/$9.99 and each box had a "Save $2.50 on milk" coupon on it, so therefore, the total cost was $2.49. What made it FREE was the bonus Sobeys points (to which I am hopelessly addicted) that in the grand scheme of things will get me $2.50 in free groceries. YAY! free!

*Bows*

Diary of an Inventor, Part 10

I admit it. I can't draw. Well, let's make that more clear. I can't draw things that are supposed to look realistic. I can draw wonky, stylized things, but If I had to draw the same thing twice and have it look the same, I would be a miserable failure. I also find drawing people impossible.

Now that I have clarified, you'll understand why I have to farm out the drawing of the diagrams of my invention to someone else. THANKS A! (she hasn't exactly agreed to this officially, but I'll thank her anyway). During the patent search process I was looking at other people's diagrams, and it turns out that mostly, the babies in them seem possessed, so in order to deviate from that trend, I'll bring in the big guns. I think it'll cost me some sewing, or some perogies or something.

Now I need to get cracking on the schematic diagrams (something more my speed, I can handle rulers and straight lines). Granted, this would all be so much easier if there was a Draftsman in the family. Curses.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

"Same thing we do every night Pinky..."


It finally came in the mail. My secret, magical potion to make me millions. Ok, maybe not, but I really wish I had come up with this stuff. It seems as though the possibilities for it are kind of endless. This boring little bag of white pellets has so much potential. It's the only way I know of to make plastic parts without selling your arm in the process. All you need is this, some water and a microwave. Luckily I now have all these implements so let me show you how it works.



Step 1: Dump some boring plastic pellets into a cup and put some water in there too. I don't think there is a recipe.
Step 2: Stick it in the nuker and watch it spin for oh, 45 seconds maybe?


When you take it out, the boring little white pellets should be a pretty, clear, crystallized lump of fun.
Step 3: Carefully remove from the water, so as not to burn your dainty fingers. (I used a ladle as you can see here)


Step 4. PLAY! Squish out the excess water and mold till you can't mold no more.



Once it cools, you have a hard, super durable... thing. And the fun thing about this, is if you don't like it, you just dump the whole lot back into some water and start all over again. It's grown-up play-doh at its best. Oh the fun there is to be had!



Frugal is FUN!

Every now and then Husband takes a look at our mortgage statement and goes crazy when he remembers that we pay interest for the privilege of living in our house. (See, this doesn't really bother me, since with the appreciation of the housing market, we could have saved for 10 years and bought the same house for double the price and not ended up any further ahead.) Anyhow, we now have a new plan. Spend less. Well, ok then.

While I don't think we are that dumb with our money, its never a bad idea to check out the accounts and see what's what. Today I thought it might be fun to cancel the movie channels we don't really use, and in the process found out that we were paying $16/month (over and above the movie channels) for channels I wasn't even aware we had. How is that for trimming the budget? I was able to cut $35/month off our bundled TV/internet/phone bill purely by downgrading to lesser packages that reflect what we actually use. I don't think we'll even notice the change.

I was also able to cut $12/month off our cell phone bill (which apparently is already a better plan than they currently offer). I like this, paying less for using what we already do.

Now if only Canada would get on the coupon bandwagon, because I hear there are folks in the US who get groceries for free. (Not mentioning any names)

Well, I'm going to go pat myself on the back. Now, honey, it's your turn. Impress me!

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Diary of an Inventor, Part 9

Well, I've taken the leap, moved on to the next step where I file a "Provisional Patent". While it's not a full patent, it allows me to take a year before filing the full patent to gauge the market, and/or sell them, and/or find someone to license it. (Ideally focused on the latter). If at the end of the year, I decide that it's useless and no one wants it, I can just let it dissolve and I'm out less money than if I had the full patent. It's a good compromise. Then I get to slap "PATENT PENDING" all over it (which will do very little other than deter people like me from ripping me off).

This weekend I spent a whole bunch of time cutting and cutting and cutting and sewing. I'll be really happy once I can either pay someone else to do that work for me, or just sit back and do nothing and wait for the royalty cheques to come in. (What can I say? Why dream unless you dream big?).

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Strong-willed child?


Girl has officially reached the point where she begins her new career testing her limits, so I have begun my career of saying "no" every 5 minutes (or less). I have decided that I'm not going to move everything she shouldn't touch out of the way, instead, she will just need to learn that coffee tables aren't for chewing (no, I will not remove the table) and candle screens aren't for touching (she's got the latter down, just need to work a bit more on the former).

I realized today, that while this whole thing seems a bit tired after the 52nd time, I'm truly hoping she has a strong will. Let's face it, we are unmatched in a battle of wills, so if she wants to have one with me, I'm game, I'll take her down every time. So really, that side of it doesn't bother me, but with that stubbornness comes a whole other side. If you can teach a strong-willed child the right way, they'll be strong-willed about doing what's right. They won't go along with the crowd because they are too insecure to say anything, they don't need to always be keeping up with the Jones'. More than anything, I want Girl to have her own mind, to feel free speaking it, and to have convictions that are unwavering.

I will consider myself a failure if Girl becomes a "monkey-see-monkey-do" kid that does things only because everyone else does, if she does hurtful things in hopes of getting a laugh, or is so insecure that she is willing to give herself up the first time anyone looks her way.

I'd rather have a stong-willed child. Bring it on baby! Let's see what you've got.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Diary of an Inventor, Part 8

I'm sorry my posts have been very "invention-focused" these days, but it's kind of been the one thing on my mind lately. Luckily I am pretty good at multi-tasking, so I can play peek-a-boo, roll balls back and forth and think strategy at the same time. I finally completed what I believe to be the final prototype, so *fingers crossed*. it may need a bit of tweaking here and there, but overall, the shape is right. I've been making a pile more these days to give away to moms I know (or don't know) who can help me test them. I know it works great for me, but it's extremely valuable to get the honest opinion of others who are there or who have been there.

I have to be honest, I'm really glad that I decided not to worry about making these myself and selling them. As much as I like to make them, it would defeat the purpose of being a stay-at-home mom. It has been enough for me to make 8 of them to give away, nevermind try to keep up with potential demand from selling them. (As great an idea as having a garage sale and selling them there was, I would hope to hit a bigger market.) Yes, I could likely make more money being the sole owner of the business, but I know how much work running your own business takes, I just don't want that. I want to do nothing and still make money. HAH! Isn't that the American dream?! Husband asked me recently "Why are you doing this, when you could just be a wedding photographer and have a guaranteed good income?". He'll forget about that question after I build the indoor pool.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Diary of an Inventor, Part 7

After a lot of thinking, head scratching, and brain spazzing, I have finally come to a decision. A while ago I had decided to change my design to make it only function as one thing, (rather than 2), and after getting my patentability report, I second guessed that idea and have since come to the conclusion that I should change it back. Luckily it won't result in needing another search/report done (Hooray! That's money I didn't want to spend!). So, I will be making a new prototype, (since even when I was working on that, I never managed to make it function correctly), and after discussing with the agent/lawyer I have decided on something called a "Provisional Patent".

Since the intent in this whole process for me is to convince someone else to do all the hard work while paying me to do nothing, a Provisional Patent works. It's not a full-fledged patent (so therefore cheaper), but it allows my invention to sit on the desk at the patent office for a year, preventing others from being able to patent the same thing. As soon as it's filed, I can smack a "patent pending" label on my invention and start shopping it around to businesses. It gives me a year to gauge the interest in this and if no one wants it, I can let the Provisional Patent lapse, and I'm out less cash than if I had gone the full patent route.

It's kind of a compromise, but it's a compromise I'm willing to live with. Now, I just need to finish the prototype, and get that provisional patent filed. At the same time I'll make a dozen more and get some hands-on testing/focus group work done, which will give my proposal some meat when the time comes for me to put on my sales and marketing hat.

I find this whole thing entertaining, because other than the lawyer-mumbo-jumbo, every step in this process is something I have been trained to do. Handy!

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Diary of an Inventor, Part 6

It has arrived... the dandy little ditty I was waiting for has come. Now come all the big decisions. While there are similar products already patented, the patent agents believe that I would not infringe on them should I decide to patent my invention, so that gives me a big decision to make. Do I go ahead, get the patent, potentially spending a few thousand dollars, only to find out that no one wants to make the item anyway? Do I do nothing and save myself the money, time and effort? Do I attempt to license it without a patent? It's all a big crap shoot.

Ideally I'd like to get myself into a situation where the patent becomes useless anyway. You see, if I could license my invention to a big company who could put this product out and get brand recognition and a market share, it wouldn't really matter what the patent says, because in reality, brand recognition is far more important than my intellectual property. It is what makes people think "Kleenex" instead of "facial tissue". Regardless of how many other people decide to make facial tissue, Kleenex is still the go-to brand. If I can hitch my star to a company who can get my product that kind of brand recognition, it won't really matter if someone else infringes on my patent, because the population will already know my product as "the original".

The idea of trying to license my product without a patent, while cheaper, seems tricky to me. It can be done and has been done on a number of occasions. That said, if I were a big business and wanted to license a product, I would like to know that the creator did their due dilligence and made sure I wouldn't be infringing on someone else's patent before I plaster my name all over it.

Doing nothing isn't really an option to me. As tempting as it is to just relax in the knowledge that I created a product not yet on the market, I know I would never get over the "What ifs". What if I HAD managed to get this product on the market? Would it have changed my life? Not to mention the idea that someday down the road, someone else might invent the same thing and I'll spend years kicking myself. John often says a German saying and I am not even going to try to write it on here, but essentially it means "If you're gonna do it, do it".

There is no room for halfway with me.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Diary of an Inventor, Part 5

Waiting kills me. Right now I'm waiting for my ShapeLock to work on invention #2, and also for the patent agents to tell me if invention #1 is patentable. (I'm also waiting for casting calls for season 5 of Dragon's Den, but that's a whole other story). I think it's the idea that this whole thing feels like a big race. You gotta get there faster than anyone else, so having to wait is like tying your shoe during a marathon... completely necessary, but irritating. I end up surfing the internet, looking to see if someone has beat me to the punch (you know, since the last time I hit "refresh") but not really trying that hard, because I don't want the disappointment of the truth. It's funny because I'm not really that emotionally invested in it (it doesn't even have a name for pete's sake), but it seems terrible to have to start all over from scratch. I guess I'd better get used to that though. I'll just use the extra time to think up something else. Yeah, I'll get right on that.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Diary of an Inventor, Part 4


It's kind of an interesting phenomenon. I've noticed that once you start thinking like an inventor, there is just no stopping it. The floodgates open and every single item that is difficult to use comes rushing in to be re-designed or re-created, and you suddenly start seeing products that could make life easier, if only you create them. It's a rush. Looking for the next big thing, that flighty little good idea that will result in financial freedom without the back-breaking labour. That one elusive idea that would turn us from regular working joes, into those people who have others looking at us and saying "why didn't I think of that?"

Yesterday, during the initial testing of Prototype #1 of Invention #2, I decided to buy some stuff that had been recommended to me called "Shape Lock", basically it's a plastic-y substance that you can melt down in water, in the microwave, or with a heat gun, to mold a prototype. It dries hard and durable, and if something doesn't work... you just melt it down all over again. (Pretty brilliant stuff, why didn't I think of that?) Anyhow, a tub of the stuff (remember, it's reusable) cost a paltry $15 US. Ok, I get it, there is the exchange rate, shipping, taxes etc, but really, over all, a pretty cheap-o investment. Husband was shocked at my carefree spending. He said "do you even know what this stuff is? Are you sure you can't buy it here? Who knows, maybe they sell it in bulk at the scoop-and-weigh!?" Well, I could spend the next month looking for it, experimenting with other products, or I could spend the TWENTY-SOME DOLLARS, and have it now.

He thinks it's a compulsion, but I guess I can just turn his words back on him from when I tease him about the plethora of VWs that seem to breed in our backyard: "It could be worse honey, I could be a gambling alchoholic."

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Everything I know I learned from Parents Magazine

Mothers read too much. Yeah, I said it, and I'll say it again.

Obviously I don't really have problems with books in general, just the vast quantities of parenting books. For example, my absolute favourite book... "What to Expect When you are Expecting" (or as I like to call it "The-Absolute-Worst-Case-Survival-Handbook-Preying-On-The-Already-Hormonally-Insane"), I was already vaguely aware that alligator wrestling would be a bad idea while pregnant, but I really had no idea how many terrible, horrible things could happen because I painted my fingernails or crossed paths with a ladybug. Do we really need more fears? Please don't read it cover to cover, it'll just give you bad dreams. Here is some milk and off to bed with you.

The vast amount of information we are pelted with does come in handy though. I can prove almost ANYTHING if I use the internet, because really... someone out there is crazier than I am, and has already written about it.

I love reading about parenting, partly to get some good ideas, and partly for the "can't keep my eyes off the train wreck" fascination. I know I'm not a terribly experienced parent, but I had some pretty darn good ones myself, and I like to think I learned a bit from their good example, so when I read this in the latest copy of parents (and by "latest" I mean latest to me, as I have a hand-me-down subscription):

"Say your little monkey climbs on the coffee table. You tell her "No". Two minutes later, she does it again. Instead of distracting her, explaining why she shouldn't do that, or (worst of all) yelling, just move the table away."

MOVE THE TABLE? What? seriously? Why on earth would I move the table? I really don't think it would teach a child anything, and where would I put my feet while watching tv?

A long time ago my grandfather (a cabinetmaker) took on a volunteer job where he went to a "remote community" to teach cabinetmaking to the residents. One of the first things he was asked was "Where can we buy hinges that won't break when our kids swing on the cabinet doors?" My grandfather looked at them and said "Why don't you teach your kids not to swing on the cabinet doors?"

Is this what we've come to? Needing hinges that won't break, and moving the furniture out of the room rather than just teaching kids that some things are toys and other things are not? Let's hope not. I'd rather make sure "NO" means something.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

There is no hope for me.

I was at the mall the other day, trying to find some clothes. I need something to wear other than jeans and t-shirts and hoodies. ("Bunny-hugs" for you Saskacheweiners) They are all well and good, but hey, I'm a grown up... I need other clothes too.

Now, to preface this entry, I am a hard person to fit. I'm not overweight, but I have a big rack, and some curves that would have fit in better in the 50s. I also have a long torso, so this combination makes clothes shopping next to impossible.

During the browsing portion of my excursion, I noticed something very disheartening. The mannequins looked dumpy. They all looked chunky and frumpy, like they put no thought into what they chose to wear that day. They weren't wearing things that were flattering on them, rather things that would have made me sign them up for "What Not to Wear".

So, I ask you... if the clothes don't look good on the mannequins... what hope is there for me?

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Dreamers

I'm all for dreamers! I think everyone should have dreams and goals and ideas. I think it makes us all better people to have something to strive for and plan for. My problem comes in when your dream relies so heavily on the kindness of others that achieving it is impossible without them. I own a house with a large property. I wouldn't even CONSIDER doing so if I didn't think I could manage the work. Of course, I found out quickly that the amount of work was higher than I anticipated, but because of that, have spent many days this summer changing the property to become more manageable. BY MYSELF. I didn't call all my friends to do it for me (even if I could convince myself it would be fun for them), because I know that if I am incapable of doing it myself, there is no point owning it in the first place.

The same goes for people who have hobbies that they can't actually do themselves. Husband got into a discussion with his mother about this very topic. She loves having a large garden (mostly potatoes), but is really no longer capable of doing the majority of the work herself. She doesn't need to have a garden, she just likes having it. (If she needed to have a garden this would fall under the "taking care of your mother act") Having a hobby that relies on other people makes it no longer your hobby. Then your hobby is really delegating labour. I like knitted things, but I don't know how to knit. so even if I buy the patterns and the yarn and find someone else to do it for me, I cannot claim knitting is my hobby.

This especially becomes a problem if you expect others to do it for you for free. (Please don't think that buying beer or a pizza is fair compensation for a day of manual labour, because it isn't, it's really the absolute least you can do.) The only reason you should ever hope for people to come and help you is if you are equally willing to return the favour or have a skill they don't that you can repay them with.

My point is, if there is something you want to do (emphasis on YOU), whenever possible, do it yourself. If you actually NEED the help (not just want help because you don't feel like doing it all), make sure you compensate your friends accordingly. Otherwise, you'll soon find yourself with very few people willing to help.

Dear Guest...

I care about you. I want you to feel at home in my home. I want to make you feel special and loved and appreciated. I want to fill your stomach and heart and mind. I want to laugh with you and toast our friendship. Please join me and be part of a memory.

Please come, make yourself at home, use what I own and eat what I have prepared. Please recognize the thought and time and effort required. Please remember that this is not something I have to do, but rather something I want to do... for you. Please notice the good china, the cloth napkins and the flatware I buffed to make sure there were no water spots. Please enjoy the feast I spent the day planning, shopping and preparing for.

I ask almost nothing in return.

Please respect me and my home. Please arrive promptly. Food takes time to prepare, and cannot always be postponed without massive effort. If you cannot be on time, please call me. Call as soon as you know you are running late. If you don't I feel unappreciated, and my effort feels ignored. I want you to come, I want you to enjoy yourself, but I want to feel I have done the best I can without having to sacrifice quality because of your indifference. Please don't be careless. I don't want to be the only one who cares.

Come join me. Come sit at my table and drink with me. Be part of my home and the memories it carries in it.

Love
Host.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Diary of an Inventor, Part 3

I've done it. I've contacted a patent law firm/patent agent and have sent him pictures of my invention. He will be conducting an initial patent search and giving me his opinion of it's patentability. I'm not really sure how to feel. I'm nervous, because he might say "NO WAY JOSE! this invention SUCKS!" (likely not in those words), but I'm also excited that this might actually be something. In my own rudimentary search of existing patents, I wasn't really able to find anything exactly like I have created. There are things that essentially do the same thing, but of course, I am of the belief that mine will do it better. That said, marketability and patentability are not always one and the same.

So, I have let my birdie go, and we'll see if he comes back. If he does, he'll be mine to sell and licence and make money off, and if not, I can always make more birdies!

Monday, September 14, 2009

When are words really words?

I want to ask all the mothers out there... at what point in your child's life, do you just start making stuff up? See, I have one of those baby book/calendar things, and I can't figure out when I'm supposed to write stuff in there. For example... Girl has lately taken to parroting things that we say. So far, she has said "Mom", "Dada", "Ummm-ah" (Oma), and "Hi Dad" when prompted. Does that mean she can talk? would those be her first WORDS? is repetition the same as actually talking? I know that often enough babies put syllables together into "words" that are amusing to us grown-ups, but are really nothing more than a lucky coincidence, so one needs to look at the context.

Girl knows who Mom is, same with Dad, and Oma, so, by saying these things, is she actually talking? or just repeating what she hears? If so, don't know when her first words were... if not, how will I know the difference?

I admit... I haven't kept track nearly as well as I should and occasionally I'll go to write something into her calendar and my mom would say "oh, she did that before" so I just make up a date and call it done. I'm a terrible mother.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Diary of an Inventor, Part 2

I think I've decided to try to get a patent. The ide of doing this myself from start to finish is too much, and kind of defeats the purpose of being a stay-at-home mom, so, the only real option for me is to license it and sit around waiting for royalty cheques. If that's what I want to do, having a patent in hand makes it more valuable and protects me somewhat, at least from honourable companies. Also, I have read that if you find someone infringing on your patent you can also go to them and sell the patent or have them pay you royalties, so ok, patent it is.

My eyes are still swimming from trying to slog through "The Complete Patent Kit" which lies in it's claims to make patent law make sense to the average person. I like to think I'm not an idiot, but law takes normal words and gives them new meanings, so nothing really makes sense.

An excerpt for your amusement:

"If the prior art that you uncover does anticipate your invention, your invention is not novel. If the prior art does not anticipate your invention, your invention will be patentable, so long as your invention is not obvious with respect to this prior art"

From what I have come to understand "prior art" seems to be a patent for something that already exists, so I'm guessing this means that if your invention is new and no one has done anything like it before, you can get a patent.

I have incorporated a business myself in the past (without a lawyer), but I'm starting to realize the patent process is far more complex, and rather than waste my money trying over and over, I might as well pay someone to do it right. I can start with the $500 "prior art search" and if it looks clear and that I have a good chance, I'll get it done.

Then I will go on "Dragon's Den" or "Shark Tank" and sell 90% of the company. I really only want to be a silent partner anyway!

Friday, September 11, 2009

Diary of an Inventor, Part 1

It's the most brilliant invention ever, completely necessary and better than anything else on the market. I have run into a problem though. I have created it, but I don't know what to do with it.

The first thing out of your mouth may be "get a patent, crazy girl!!", and of course that was my thought too... until I read up on what was required. It could cost between $4000-$10000 to get a patent, and once you have that, it doesn't really get you anywhere. You see... patents, like copyrights, are not policed by some highly-skilled task force specializing in crimes of intellectual property. No... they are policed only by the person who holds the patent... in other words, little old me. I need to see someone rip off my idea, and take them to court, where I will need to have additional money to fight for what was mine to start off with. It's a nasty world. I am sure they are rare, but there are many dirty folks out there who prey on people like me, who have a great idea, but no means to fight to keep it mine.

So you say: "don't get a patent, manufacture and sell them yourself!" Well, in my make believe world, I do have all the capabilities to do that. I can buy all the materials, make them myself, take pictures of them, design a website and sell them all from the comfort of home, but alas, there are more snags to be wrestled with. The biggest and baddest of them all is the CPSIA Regulation that says that all products made for children under 12 need to be tested for lead before they can be sold in the US. Being the largest nearby market, butting of the US as a potential sales arena is insane, but lead testing is extensive and expensive, and would need to be done on every component of my product and every time I make a new batch. This could run upwards for $4000, and in order to sell enough products to make the cash required to pay only for the testing, I would need to make 200 pieces before seeing a profit. At 10 pieces per day, I'd be working 20 days to pay for the lead testing, and I would need to invest at least $10000 into materials so that it can all be classified as one batch (as soon as you change the material it needs to be done all over again).

So, you see my dilemma. I believe the third option is the only realistic one. Find a big business who is willing to pay me royalties for the use of my product. I don't have the foggiest as to how to do that, nor do I even know the first place to look to try to sell my idea. It scares me to show my design to anyone who has the capability to rip me off, but I know that I'll never get any kind of market share on my own.

All I know, is that I ever want to say "if only I had done something with my idea when I had the chance, then it would have been ME"

Thursday, September 10, 2009

My greatest fears.

I don't like to be home alone. (not that I am right now, so creepy people, be warned, I have a gun... and a dog... yeah, a BIG, ANGRY dog). As nice as it is to sleep diagonally on the bed with both pillows, I have somewhat irrational fears. One of my biggest fears started a long time ago, likely around the time that my parents started leaving my brother and I home alone. It seems to me that I have always been afraid that while I am sleeping, someone will break into my house and cut my achilles tendons. I don't know why, so don't ask. Interestingly, this fear can be alleviated merely by sleeping with my feet under the covers (apparently would-be-achilles-tendon-cutters are foiled by a blanket).

I think my facination with shows like Criminal Minds and CSI combined with an overactive imagination has given me extra creativity when freaking myself out about the gruesome way I will most likely die. Recently a new fear has surfaced. After having a baby and introducing the baby monitor to my life, I picture myself sitting awake in bed, reading, while a raspy voice eminates from the monitor... "I have your baby... come and get her." Hey Criminal Minds writers... I think you should use that as an opening... sure gives me the willies.

I wonder if I need psychiatric help.

Big piles of stuff.

I figured out the problem with owning a big property. You can't do anything small on a big lot. There is no such thing as a "little decorative item" to stick in a backyard the size of a football field. When you need mulch, you don't buy those bags for Walmart (seriously, no one should buy those bags from Walmart, but that's a whole other entry), you buy a truckload, 30 yards, that need to be moved, shovelful by shovelful, wheelbarrowful by wheelbarrowful. And once that pile is gone, you buy another one, because even that doesn't do everything. There are times when I am flabbergasted that we were unable to keep our flowerbed weeded when we had a postage stamp of a yard (and this isn't even including the backyard, because that was a construction zone/driveway/car-part-storage wasteland until we quickly sodded to sell the house). With that lack of effort... what did we do? BOUGHT A BIGGER YARD! YAY!

I think the previous owners are going to have a coronary when they find out what we've done with their maintained perennial gardens, but really, we're not retired, we have a baby. We have a life that is more than gardening. As much as I love to have the backyard, and picture it as a wonderful place for kids to play, I have no desire to spend the rest of my life working on it. It will be beautiful, it will be wonderful... but holy cow, it's BIG.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Through the looking glass.

"Bad boys bad boys, whatcha gonna do?... Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?"

I think I'll have that song in my head all day! My brush with "Cops" came late last night. I live outside of the city, and rarely even hear sirens, nevermind see anything interesting "go down", so it was very surprising when our doorbell started ringing incessantly at 11pm. Husband, wary of late night visitors, especially since Ed McMahon is no longer with us, cracked the door and heard a desperate voice calling out "They robbed me for my LEG! I've been ROBBED! I need to call my grandma to pick me up!". Obviously, this is not something you hear every day, and sure enough, the guy was hopping on one leg (the absence of blood helped us put 2 and 2 together that it was a prosthetic limb that was missing). Still a bit leery, since there were now a number of red and blue lights blinking through the bushes that seperate our house from the street, Husband handed a phone through the door and went out to take a look, locking the door behind him.

I watched from the window as flashlights illuminated him and after some shouting, his hands went up in the air. A brief exchange, and then he countinued down the driveway and an officer came into view. He took one look at the legless man on our stoop and ordered him onto the ground. When he didn't comply right away, there were some shouts and soon the man was cuffed and facedown on the front sidewalk, covered in the boys (and girls) in blue. Other officers were swarming around the house with flashlights, followed soon after by a big angry dog.

Husband came strolling up the driveway with an officer and I finally got the story. Apparently our driveway was the end of a police car chase that originated downtown. The car was cockeyed on the driveway (unfortunately narrowly missing the address sign that I so desperately would like to replace) and completely missing the 2 tires on the passenger side (a result of spike strips MILES before). We were told to stay inside for the time being until they captured the others who had run from the car, as police dogs can't always tell who is innocent.

The dogs led a crowd of 8-10 officers far beyond our house, through the unseasonably wet, poison ivy-ridden, mosquito-infested property. I felt sorry for the cops, who admittedly called our property "a nightmare" since they are used to streets, alleys, and fences. The dark, unknown terrain was a whole other ballpark, but it made me somewhat happy that the "perps" were also wandering the fields, tripping over fallen trees, into puddles and poison ivy, while being chased by dogs and people with guns (that would be enough to make anyone think twice about driving a stolen car out here again).

All was quiet for a while, the flashing red and blue still staked out our property and a towtruck had arrived to haul off the maimed neon. I figured we had seen the last of it, until, while up feeding Girl, I heard voices and barking. Apparently an injured car thief had camped out behind a shed, presumably waiting until the police were gone. Caught ya sucker! (by the way, looking down the barrel of that police dog, who knows he's looking for you, plus 8-10 cops can't be a fun experience) I should mention his pants were also falling down. The moral of the story: always wear a belt for midnight runs through the bush.

Thumbs up to the Boys and Girls in blue!

Friday, September 4, 2009

Woman of the Cloth.

Well before Girl was born, I decided to use cloth diapers on her. I'd like to tell you all a nice story about how I believe that they are enviromentally friendly, and that I use them on her to save our precious resources and limit waste, but that's just not the case. Don't get me wrong, I love the environment, it's great and all, done lots for me, but that wasn't my motivation.

Basically, I'm cheap.

I looked at it, weighed the options and thought... why would I spend $20 a week on something to throw away, when I could spend $200 on something that will not only last until Girl is potty trained, but for any subsequent children I may have. It was kind of a no brainer. I had to add the bonus of having a high-efficiency washing machine and a well, and TADA! the decision was made.

Since starting with cloth diapers, I also made a startling discovery. Disposable diapers smell GROSS, even before there is anything in them. (I've been told you can buy unscented, but why do they add that disgusting scent in the first place?)

I would also like to add, for any of you who think that "having to clean up poop" is a disgusting fate and completely unecessary with today's technology, I'd like to ask you to read the directions on your package of disposables. You just might be doing it wrong.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Just like the Dodo bird.

I think I'm one of a dying breed. A woman who has chosen to stay home, wear kitten heels and an apron while vacumming and have a steaming hot dinner on the table when Husband comes home from a day at the office. I guess it's not quite like that.

Yes, I am a stay-at-home wife and mother, but I'm a long ways off from being a 50's housewife. I'm not perfect, I'm easily distracted and I'd live in my PJs if i didn't have this nagging feeling in the back of my head that it would put me on a spiraling path to leaving the house in jeans and a bathrobe. I'm terrible at gardening, mainly because I don't like bugs. I'm an excellent baker and a pretty good cook, though I'm a picky eater and don't eat half of what I make. I'd rather make jam than clean the house but I'm definitely happier when the dust rhinos are no longer taking over the house (I'm pretty sure they are headquartered under the bed). My brain is usually in the clouds, dreaming up new business ideas, new ventures and new ways to make money from the comfort of the couch. I have an amazing baby that slept through the night at 6 weeks, yet I still sigh if she wakes up "in the middle of the night" (before 6).

My dreams are simple. I want people to come into my house and feel welcomed and special and loved. I want the house to smell like freshly baked cookies and cinnamon, and sound like laughter. I want Girl to grow up loving herself and those around her (with a good measure of brilliance thrown in) and realistically, all this can happen even if I don't move stuff off the mantle before dusting it.

dipping a tentative toe in.

Ok, so I've never blogged before but there are likely a whole lot of blogs that start like this, so I will move right along. I guess I just figured I have a lot to say and if people can write blogs about hairless cats and turtles with ninja skills, there must be something I can blog about. The crazier thing is that there are people who FOLLOW blogs about hairless cats and ninja turtles, so I figured where better to let out my opinions than on a global forum. This blog is about me, a mother, a homemaker, a serial entrepreneur, and a woman. What I see, what I think and whatever else comes into my brain in the vast amount of time I spend staring at the walls and nursing.