I introduced the twins to Skype earlier this week. They were a little unsure at first, but with Lane's help they got the hang of it. Alec in particular was fascinated and spent a good ten minutes making faces at me (while I made faces back). Kyle thought it was great for awhile, but then, in Kylie-fashion, got distracted by other shiny things in Lane's room.
That reminds me that I need to load Skype on Haley's MacBook.
It's been a long week so far. My car began stalling in traffic on Saturday (for a grand total of four times over the entire weekend; since my power steering goes when the car dies, it made for some interesting driving). Grand total to replace two failing sensors? $40 in parts and $400 in labor. Ouch. Thanks to everyone who offered to shuttle me around while my car was in the shop.
Because I was dumb and put my yearly neurologist's appointment off until the last minute, I had to settle for a 7 a.m. appointment on Tuesday morning (ouch again). The actual appointment lasted a total of 6 minutes, just enough time for him to ask me how I was feeling, do a couple of simple hand exercises and write me a new prescription (which, unfortunately, he wrote for the wrong drug; luckily I noticed it while I was making my copay at the front desk and managed to get a new prescription for the right one).
It seems to be a stressful week in general for the people I know. Plumbing problems at the Lisa household. Bent bicycle wheels for Meghan. I'm worried about another friend who seems to be stressed (either at me or in general). Maybe I'm a bad luck charm this week. Maybe I should charge people money to stay away from them . . .
How would i cover up a bullet hole in my wall? I don't care if you're gonna rant about guns and stuff I just need to know before my dad finds out. my friend shot his gun in my room, so i have this whole in my wall my dad was naive enough to believe it was just my stereo that fell off my TV stand but my brother found out. So what's an easy way to like fill it in or something?
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Tuesday, July 22
My So-called iLife
In a most serendipitous fashion, Haley has both (a) needed a new computer for awhile and (b) not received a high school graduation present from our parental units (despite prepping for her sophomore year to begin in about a month). In her infinite wisdom, Haley turned over most of the computer-decision-making-process to me, and I carefully weighed the pros and cons of Dell Vista laptops and other assorted machinery, checked prices and made informed recommendations on system specs. And, of course, I left any sort of personal bias out of the equation.
So it's just by chance that she's getting a MacBook. Honest.
I had all of the components (the MacBook, a RAM upgrade from a third-party, a student copy of Word 2008, etc.) shipped to me so I can have everything upgraded, installed and customized by the time Haley visits next month. Plus this way I can have a MacBook to play with for a couple of weeks . . .
If I want to change the message on my plates I need to submit a form in the next couple of days. I'm not necessarily wanting to change the message; it will just cost me extra if I don't do it now when my plates are up for renewal, so I'm pondering.
The only even remotely interesting ideas I've considered in the short time I've pondered the question are:
PUDL JPR (a transport vessel from Stargate: Atlantis that happens to be the same color as my car)
and
ASCNDED (the state of being in the Stargate universe where one transcends corporeal form and lives as an enlightened, immortal, god-like being)
Geeky, I know. Not something everyone will get, I know. But weigh in if you have an opinion on one or the other (or something else).
Amusingly, CTHULHU is also available (I thought for sure someone else would have snagged it), although I don't think I'd seriously consider that for a plate (as much as I enjoy the works of Lovecraft, the name doesn't fit as a plate).
The only solace I take from my posting sluggishness (which is a symptom, really, of my GenX heritage and not my fault; honest) is that most of my other GenX compatriots post even less frequently than I do (like May, *cough* Jamie and Tim *cough*). There is some small degree of pride in being at the top of the "slacker dog pile."
The family of my former next-door neighbors held an estate sale this weekend, and in the process offered a fish-tank-like view of an interesting subculture of humanity. In they filtered, in groups of two and three (and six, in the case of some entire families), parking illegally for a city-block radius, marching like zombies across adjacent lawns and congregating in pensive-looking pods as they carefully weighed the true value of a 20-year-old television and collections of crocheted couch covers before offering a low bid. The subculture was further broken down into sub-subcultures, a trifecta of scavengers, if you will. The vast majority of the audience consisted of older (read, "retired" for those of you waiting to pounce on generation gaps) people, a clique that tended to peruse and not buy (possibly because of the difficulty they'd have transporting anything over ten pounds the distance to their cars), although they did wander, and wandering in this case included "peeking into my backyard" and other acts of nosiness. Following (or, more likely, leading, as they tended to walk faster) came the garage-sale families. Piling out of minivans, tots and bored teenagers in tow, they carted off anything not bolted down, valuable or not. Finally came the creepy single guys in paint-splattered jeans and bad facial hair; these made a beeline for the garage, where the well-worn tools accumulated over a lifetime vanished one-by-one into someone else's shop.
While a fairly unique disturbance in my quiet neighborhood, the actual impact (other than parking) was relatively minor. I politely put off my mowing on the first day (under the mistaken assumption that the three-day event was a Saturday-only sale), but the unfortunate fact that I only have two days off per week meant I had to do the mowing on Sunday; this, I've come to understand, is something of a faux pas, as having to cross the street to avoid a man pushing a lawnmower is apparently too much work, and walking right next to the running machine and giving the man dirty looks is the preferred stigma. Also, I've learned, from the trash along my sidewalk, that Wendy's is apparently the official sponsor of estate sale scavenging.
My sarcasm aside, there was a weird creepiness to the whole event. My green ways would protest in earnest at the idea of just throwing everything away (and the notion that descendants, especially in a family with few children, as in this case, should "absorb" the contents, is clearly unfeasible given that my house is almost full already), but still, this was the aggregation of two peoples' lives, the things they bought for themselves and each other or received as gifts from friends and loved ones, put on display to be bartered for by perfect strangers on routine circuits. How weird must it be to spend your weekends shuffling through the detritus of the dead, looking for cheap used potholders and 70s-era clocks? It's a hobby I do not judge or begrudge, but one I find a bit eerie.
Courtesy of Cris, a somewhat-cheesy-at-first-but-it-gets-better homemade video to my favorite Daft Punk song (the version without the crappy rap lyrics over it). This also helps explain one of the scenes in the new Weezer video that I didn't get before.