It's not Neville Shute waiting for it, or Cormac McCarthy's aftermath. More a Rod Serling winking-smirk point of view...
It's not Neville Shute waiting for it, or Cormac McCarthy's aftermath. More a Rod Serling winking-smirk point of view...
Posted at 04:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Posted at 02:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)
The laptop is four years old and picked up a virus that we couldn't find/delete/ignore. Having been told that 'maybe you should reformat your disk and start over,' I thought that it might be a great idea. Also having been told that It'll run just like new!
So I backed up the several thousand pictures. And videos. And documents. And email preferences. And saved emails and addresses and contacts. And favorites. And whatever else I could think of. I waited (not without a touch of procrastination) for a week or two so as not to forget to back-up anything or any folders that might be needed.
And away I went. It's now six hours into (windows has updates ready to install - reboot)
the project. Only the (reboot)
first 45 minutes was needed for the actual reformatting of the hard disk. Then re-installing the (reboot)
Microsoft Office software (reboot). And Nancy's Outlook contacts and stuff on her 'side' of the (reboot
computer. And mine on my side of (reboot)
the computer. And the updated (reboot)
Internet Expl(reboot)
orer and Firefox. And iTunes. And Zune. And Skype. Not to mention all of our documents.
And have I mentioned that a four year old Windows XP system may need a few ser(reboot)
vice packs? That need a reboot every five minutes or so?
The good news is it seemed to work. I ran malwarebytes and found nothing.
So far.
Now I need a reboot.
Posted at 11:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)
Posted at 09:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)
Recent computer issues have had us trying to back-up our computer files, pictures, videos, shortcuts, and the like. We have been hijacked by an annoying re-direction virus. Of which we can't seem to rid ourselves.
So we've decided to start over. Save what we need, then pull the pin on the whole hard drive. Reformat and start over like it just came out of the box. To do that, we need the Official Reformat Disks. And Official Office Disks. They'd been in my nightstand drawer for the last two+ years. Until recently when I cleaned the nightstand. So, of course, I couldn't find them. I searched the bedroom. The computer desk in the hall, the library shelves and closet, the master bedroom closet, the garage. No disks. Anywhere. So now I'm thinking that I'll have to buy a new operating system and Office package. Sigh. This is my life. Losing things. Forgetting things. Not putting things where they belong so as not to forget or lose those things.
Last night I asked Nancy. "I can't image that I would have thrown them away - even by accident. Can you think of ANY place that I would have missed?"
She said, "Have you looked in the file cabinet?"
"No." I stupidly replied.
Racing up the stairs, I pull open the drawer, and there they are. Of course. Where they belong, of course.
When will I learn to just do it. Just put things where they belong. Nancy does it every day. And knows exactly where things are. Because they're where they belong. I love that about her.
Some day I'll listen to her. And understand why she wants things where they belong. An orderly life is better than the way I do things. It's taken me a long time to understand that.
Posted at 01:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
"I like humor!"
*not to imply that there will be more tomorrow.
Posted at 02:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
I'd been noticing a pair of pigeons in our alley for a week or so. They appeared to be the ones I'd seen last year in the neighborhood. They always seemed to be bobbing down the alley, or sitting on a rooftop or garage peak. They didn't mind if I drove past them, barely bothering to get out of the way at times. Friday night I was on the way to drop Ziggy at the groomers. A woman down the block stopped me as I passed. As each of our dogs barked like raving lunatics in our respective backseats, she told me to watch out for the pigeons because one had a broken wing. She told me she had called the city animal protection people. They told her that if she caught it, they would come and get it. They also told her they would then 'humanely euthanize it."
It was then that I realized that I'd never seen both of them on a garage - it was just the darker one. The cream-colored one was always on the ground with her partner. It got me thinking about protection. Being there for someone. Providing safety and reassurance in a time of need. All things that I want to be for Nancy, All things at which I've failed miserably at times.
Coming up the alley
after dropping Zig off for is hair and nails appointment, I looked for
them. There she was, walking along just past our driveway. There he
was, up on the neighbor's garage watching closely. I pulled into the
garage and went in to get Nancy. I didn't tell her about the pigeons.
I just asked her to put down the chimichangas she was building for
dinner and come outside for a second. As we walked through the kitchen
and through the garage, I told her about the kind of guy I always wanted
to be for her. Being there, protecting, 'having her back' through
anything.
I pointed up at the garage roof next door and said "I
want to be That Guy." And then I told her about them.
The first words out of Nancy's mouth - as I knew they would be -
were "We have to do something." So we went back in to get some crackers
to give to her. She'd move away, but not too far, so we tried to toss
them her way. With That Guy cooing madly at us from the garage roof.
That didn't work, so we just crushed some up and left them on the
driveway.
During dinner we talked about looking on-line for options. Euthanasia couldn't be the only route, there had to be some other way. When the phone rang and sent me off to pick up a product-laden, ear cleaned, nail trimmed Ziggy - I saw the two of them tapping away at the saltines. Which made me smile.
We started our web search and quickly found that the Animal Humane Society in Minneapolis will accept wildlife for rehabilitation. They were open, so I talked to Nicole at AHS, and she explained that it could be many things and didn't necessarily mean a broken wing. If it were a broken wing, there was nothing that could be done - but if it was just a birdy clavicle issue it would be fixable. She suggested catching her and bringing her in. So we put out a mix of brown rice, oatmeal, and cheerios in a bowl, and set out a bowl of water for the two of them.
I also asked if her mate would wait for her to come back. She said that pigeons mate for life, and that if she was gone he would go through a grieving process, and eventually move on to find another mate. Which made Nancy cry again. I love that about her. She's a freak about animal suffering. Partly, she says, because they can't talk to us and tell us what the problem is and how we can help. I asked Nicole if we could have her back after rehab, to let her go in our alley again. She said absolutely. That's exactly what they try to do.
The next morning we could see signs that they'd enjoyed some of the food. And I set out to catch her to bring her in to Nicole. I thought, if I could herd her into our garage, I could shut the door, corner her, and pick her up to put her in Jake's little kennel. I found her three doors down, huddled behind a garbage can. She wasn't hard to find. That Guy was sitting up above her on the garage peak. And of course cooing madly as I approached.
She wanted nothing to do with me, and darted away. I followed, cornering her against a picket fence across the alley. I almost had her, when she bounced over me, flew low (Sweet! A broken wing wouldn't let her do that, right?) back down the alley and right into our garage! I ran over, keyed in the code, hopped over the seeing-eye-thingy, and into the garage. So far so good. Now, I just had to dig through the piles of soon-to-be rummage sale items and bins of things taken from a storage garage containing my former life.
I found her in a few seconds, huddled up against a wall between two boxes. She let me pick her up and put her in Jake's kennel. After a few minutes of Nancy now cooing and talking to her, and pigeon and I were off to get her fixed-up.
Nicole takes a look at her. Notices how emaciated she looks. She notices the bird-lice as says that's an easy fix, and tells me that it doesn't look like a broken wing. So she'll get some fluids and food in her and take a look. I leave - with Nicole's reassurance that I can come back for her when she's ready to rejoin her partner.
Fast forward a day. Our little patient has been at the Humane Society for a day now. That Guy is still up on the neighbor's roof. I call early to leave a message checking in to see how things are going. Later that day, Nicole calls back to say that things look good. She drained some fluid from the wing, and began some antibiotics. And physical therapy. Pigeon Physical Therapy? I don't remember that one on the grade-school what-do-you-want-to-be-when-you-grow-up questionnaires.
So we wait. Her partner waits. Another week or so of PPT and we'll be able to go pick her up to bring her 'home.' To her partner who'll be waiting for her. Because he's That Guy.
Posted at 09:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)
No brainer.
Last week in Nancy's Top Chef Masters Next Food Network Star America's Test Kitchen Cafe...
Home-made Asian dumplings - with equally home-made dipping sauce.
Double Dumpling Chicken Stoup (with a nod towards Rachel Ray)
Chipotle Chicken Pasta
Miso Soup - with homemade dashi soup stock
Not to mention the Malt Chocolate Pudding and Blueberry Breakfast Bars. And Smoked Salmon Spread.
All begin as recipes, then are souped-up, spiced-up, and made healthier by Nancy The Wonder Cook. And all available as take-out lunches the next day. And servings frozen for future lunches.
Smart, funny, pretty as a picture. And she can cook a little.
Our usual after dinner conversation starts out with me washing the remaining dishes - remarkably few, by the way, as she cleans as she cooks. Nancy will ask, "What sounds good for dinner tomorrow night? Remarkably delicious sounding this? Absolutely wonderful sounding that? Or maybe drool-enducing the other thing?"
And I'm always supposed to pick. Like it matters which flavor-super-sized serving of culinary creativity she makes for me.
And that's the most special part right there. She's making it for me.
Posted at 08:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)
We arrived on Cozumel on Saturday March 13th. We'd arranged to fly first class - allowing us to check 210 pounds of medical supplies for our second week of vacation. And explained as best we could at each and every chance that we weren't really American Pigs with 9 suitcases full of costume changes.
And for those scoring at home, We split wins at Travel Yahtzee... And never lost any dice.
Sunday is the day the locals venture into downtown San Miquel on Cozumel. The cruise ships are gone, the cruise ships don't arrive again until tomorrow... They're a curse and a blessing to the Cozumelenos.
Families everywhere - the kids in their Sunday best. Moms and Dads smiling everywhere - especially at the gringos and gringas - knowing they're here because they love the island. Not just because their ship pulled over for a stop at Carlos and Charlies.
The trip was planned with JoAnne and Richard scheduled to join us. At the airport in Minneapolis (Terminal 1, NOT the Charles Lindbergh Terminal - haven't you been keeping up?), we were startled and surprised to find Carrie and Shelly there to join us for week one. Hugs, tears, strange looks. "Crying at departure? Wha?" Liars. I'll never trust those I-hope-you-guys-have-a-great-time-wish-we-could-go-maybe-next-year liars...
I digress. And use ellipses a lot...
Just setting the table.
So anyway. Our intrepid heroes are wandering the town square on a Sunday night. Nary a drunken cruiser in port.
Richard and JoAnne cute as can be.
Posted at 10:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)
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