|January 6, 2000
December 28, 1999
December 23, 1999
December 15, 1999
December 13, 1999
December 9, 1999
December 7, 1999
December 5, 1999
||It's been a busy week. I expect this comes as no surprise. After all, when last you saw I'd just picked Karen up at the airport and was preparing to have a week's worth of fun and adventure with her -- and immediately after that I was going to have this whole turn of the century thing. So -- how likely would regular updating be, mm?
Flash to the last couple of days. Phone messages from folks. "Hi Eric! How's it going? Been a while since you updated!" Karen herself sends e-mail pointing out that it's been a while since I updated. I get other e-mail on the level of "everything okay?" "Been a while." And my favorite -- "Hey Journal boy, update already."
Heh. I suppose given the heart thing some people might not look kindly on delays in updating, right? Heh. I say again, heh.
Here's the thing -- I lost a little track of the point. Of the journal and updating, I mean. I actually started about five different updates, trying to talk about all the things Karen and I did, plus New Year's, plus other stuff, plus medical stuff, plus yadda yadda yadda and so on and so forth. Which means I forgot my basic rule of the Journal: Write whatever I feel like whenever I feel like it. There's no specific need to put every event of my life down in boring, repetitive detail.
I remember that point now. And remember also what people really want to see in these updates -- especially the ones who've been pinging me for this entry. They want to know stuff's going all right. And it doesn't take much to show that, now does it?
Well, a good number of readers just want to be entertained. It is essay-writing, after all. The point is to make it interesting. But that also means I'm under no requirement to laundry list my life either. Quite the opposite -- I think it's likely folks would be bored out of their skull by a simple recitation of my life from 12/28/99 to 1/6/2000.
I do write out the entire of 2000, by the way. On checks and things, I mean. Heck, I've spent my life thinking about the year 2000. Now that we're here, I'm not going to just write double-ought. Next year I'll do '01 like everyone else, but what the heck.
So, for those wondering -- the basic message. I'm all right. A little breathless still, but all right.
So from here I'll do some more general info. It won't be complete, per se, but it'll be stuff I actually feel like writing, and in the end isn't that what we all want?
Well, actually, we all want unlimited free money, but I do have some constraints on my resources.
The week went well. Karen was... the same. I mean it. She looked pretty much exactly as I remember, save that her hair is considerably longer now. And she and I were very comfortable around each other, and it was the nicest part of her visit. You see, lots of people -- especially ones I haven't had much contact with of late -- have contacted me since learning about my happy condition. But when they do so, it's like that condition becomes the entire conversation. Or, what is worse, it becomes the reason we don't have a conversation:
People around me have gotten used to it. It's an occasional question at most. But friends who contact me without having had much contact with me for six or seven years generally run into that discomfort.
Karen and I didn't have that problem. She made it clear she cares, and we moved on. Heck, Karen was on vacation, and certainly wanted to spend that vacation enjoying herself, not bemoaning cruel fate when really fate hasn't been all that cruel.
So we did a lot of stuff -- went to Maine to see my folks, did some New Hampshire scoping, saw Galaxy Quest, had good food, went to Boston for a day, and so on -- but we also didn't do a lot of stuff. We watched DVD's. Or I jumped online and did my usual things while she sat on the couch and knitted quietly. We didn't feel the pressing need to fill every hour with kibble. Like I said, we were comfortable around each other. I was glad she was there, she was glad to be there, and life was a bit of okay.
Which is about all I can report, with one exception.
Karen and I have never, ever lived at the same temperature. Karen is by nature chilly. I am by nature too warm. It was true in the early nineties and it's true now. She came to work with me one day and had to go back to the apartment to warm up because the office was kept too cool for her.
I ended up moving my radiant heater (an oil-filled thingie) next to the couch she was sleeping on, plus gave her my comforter as well as the blanket she was using, and I used a bedsheet on the bed. She couldn't believe I was warm like that, and I couldn't believe she wasn't roasting to death.
It culminated with an evening in dry Hell. This was the day I had to work, so Karen bailed and went back to the apartment because the office was cold. She tried to get the monitor heat working consistently, and finally managed to crank the timer up to blast heat for a good long time. She had cranked the temperature setting up too (it's a simple slider -- not very precise, and easy to forget about).
After the hour, the heater stopped, but she forgot the temperature control.
Karen managed to kick all her blankets off in her sleep, it was so hot. Further, the humidifier ran out of water in the middle of the night. Waking up the next morning she practically felt feverish with the heat.
And as for me? Heh. I'm still not cooled off yet.
So I place an order with MacWarehouse for a bunch of massively cool stuff. A PCI board with both Firewire and USB on it. USB hub. USB color printer. USB scanner. USB keyboard. USB 3 button Mouse. Firewire DVD-RAM drive and media. Good stuff.
Everything comes in the next day -- we requested next day shipping, you see. It's great.
Except the USB/Firewire PCI board, the USB hub, and the DVD-RAM drive. So I have a bunch of stuff I can't use without the board, and if we had the board I wouldn't be able to use most of the USB stuff without the hub, and DVD-RAMs I can't use without the drive.
I love next day air. Honestly.
|So I'm a Twenty-first
Century Digital Boy--
I don't know how to read
but I've got a lot of toys!
My Daddy's a white
middle class Intellectual;
My Momma's on valium
And I can't believe it.