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Hey, It’s Thursday, Where Did the Week Go?

23 November 2006

Happy Thanksgiving, to all those who celebrate it!

To all of you who have been visiting this week, wondering what the heck was going on (considering that I promised you the Story of My Macs on Monday, and here we are Thursday…), I offer this brief recap:

My Mac’s electrical system finally gave a week ago today, so I spent last Friday saving what I could on CD and completing a project on Poppa, our second-generation blue iMac, who is already in semi-retirement. I told the Consort that I didn’t want a new computer right now (not a good time to spend money wantonly, you understand). My work doesn’t require memory-heavy software (the internet, Word, and [for some projects] a pencil suffice, with a dash of Excel tossed in for flavor), and we have that in Poppa. Saturday morning I woke with a dread thought: all my iTunes music and my 1,066 [don’t gasp, I know some of you have more!] digital photos were still on my laptop!!! (Yes, I back up my work files regularly, but I never thought to back up that fun stuff, mea culpa.)

There was no other option. The Consort and I hurriedly dressed and went out to look at new Macs. The Consort did a quick ebay and MacMall search first, so we’d have something to compare to when out in the world of new computers. Secondary Mac retailers had no better deals than what we found at the Apple store, so I am now the proud owner of an 80-GB, Intel Duo processor, CD/DVD-writable, white MacBook. Plus, because I was buying a new computer, they recaptured my entire hard-drive from the dead Mac to my new one at a discounted price, and we got a new printer, for free. With an automatic backup package thrown in for good measure. (I’m still riding the high so don’t you be asking me about price right now. Let’s just say that in one fell swoop my Christmas and birthday gifts for the next x years came early.)

There you go: the recap.

Then, balance needing to reassert itself, I finally succumbed to the sickness that everyone else in the family has had, to one degree or another, since October. My body being what it is, this meant that in me, the sickness resolved itself into a sinus infection. Kind of like the one I had in May. Remember that? (Except this time, no crying in front of the pharmacist.)

The plan for Thanksgiving this year was to spend it at Dancing Rabbit, where we’d visit with all those cool people, listen to Impera play fiddle with Tamar, and have an all-around good time. Which is what the Consort and the girls are doing right now. I couldn’t imagine bringing my sickness with me to share with everyone there, plus, although I have antibiotics, they haven’t fully kicked in yet, so images of me with my ever-growing pile of tissues dragging myself from one couch to another for Thanksgiving didn’t seem like too much fun.

My Thanksgiving this year is me, the dog, the cat, the bird, the rat, and the rabbit. So you see, I’ve got lots of company. My appetite isn’t very strong, so no typical fare for me. We’ve got some eggs and frozen organic asparagus, so I may make ersatz eggs benedict later. (I also rented the first disc of Six Feet Under, and I started watching it last night. I didn’t know what to expect, but heck, it’s pretty good!)

Growing up, I dreaded the traditional Thanksgiving go-around-the-table-and-tell-us-all what-you-are-thankful-for. It always seemed a bit forced to me. So I swore I wouldn’t do it when I was in charge of my own thanksgivings. I don’t think we’ve done it (Three of Four: Did we do it last year?). But I did want to say thank you to all my visitors on this blog. I’ve enjoyed your comments, suggestions, empathy (when I needed it), quips, jokes, and friendship. I hope they’ll continue for a long time. And I promise I won’t give you smallpoxy blankets or trade you glass beads for your blog.*

*(Because I know you know that I can’t let such a good excuse to mention the shortfalls of capitalism nee imperialism go by without at least a jab at the chin. Just wait until tomorrow. I suppose I’ll have to post at 5 fricking a.m. to make it authentic. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, just wait.)

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