One of Those Days

You realize that you're in the grip of an obsessed blogger. Post after post: tracks. Tracks, tracks, tracks. I can't stop. And yet I realize that not everyone cares as passionately as I do who went where in the snow on Indigo Hill. My own husband has begun to tweak me about it. And so I offer up a post about something else. Let's see. Hmmm. (Drum fingers, Jeff Gordon style). I know! How about this one? My main computer died last night. Yep. It started acting really strangely, super-slow and confused. This, while I was preparing a nice, picture-filled post on...tracks...including a very cool shot from my friend Ruthie in Minnesota. Everything took forever, and to top it all off, Blogger wouldn't take a single picture. I tried five times, driven by my need to make you all happy five days a week. Finally, I shut the poor thing down, patted it on the head, and told it I'd see it in the morning.

It's an iMac G-5. It's a wonderful machine. And it is dead. Our preliminary diagnosis, based on Bill's taking off the back and pressing the internal power button, is that the logic board is gone. The nearest repair place is 86 miles away, near Columbus. It is snowing like mad, at least 2 1/2" since dawn. The kids are in their constant default state of having a day off from school. People ask me if I homeschool all the time. They assume that, and they assume I'm a vegetarian. Why, i dunno. People make you what they want you to be, I guess. This winter, I feel like I'm homeschooling; they haven't had a single entire week since before Christmas. I'm resolved: I am not getting in the car with them and the corpse of a computer. I'm saying this mostly to convince myself not to try it.

I knew when I got my MacBook Pro laptop that this day would come, when my main, desktop computer dies, and I am surprising even myself with my level-headed cool. It seems kind of soon, though, since the thing isn't even two years old, but such is the world of hi-tech machines. Their lives are measured in months. I haven't started trembling or crying. It's a bummer, but aside from about two dozen minor inconveniences discovered thus far this morning--the first being that all the pictures I'd lined up for this post are on the dead computer--I'm not the puddle of tears I would be had I not taken the leap and gotten a laptop. The kids aren't missing a beat, sledding. It really hasn't hit them that their play station is going to have to go to the hospital.

After refusing all food for a day and a half, Baker finally accepted Royal Canin mixed with spaghetti sauce. I guess he's tired of beef stew. And then he got all krazy in the snow. I've always loved otters. Maybe that's why I love Boston terriers. It's the mouth and eyes that get me.

For now, I'm trying to get some overdue drawings done, and I'm looking out at the snow, trying to squeeze the lemons for a little glass of lemonade. I need some time off, anyway. I'll see you Monday.