31 July 2005

Avoid the "del"

So yesterday I was writing along on that D thing I do with most of my time, and horror of horrors… I was typing forward but my laptop was going backward. The more I typed, the more it ate. There it went, just whirring across the screen… into nowhere. My laptop was sucking my dissertation into its rusty innards.

Yes, there was screaming. There was panic. There was pleading with a machine. There was random punching of buttons. Finally, I realized that the pesky little “del” button was stuck. Really, it’s surprising this doesn’t happen more often since this little gem of a machine has suffered much abuse and does owe me a few revenges. I didn’t mean to dump a glass of orange juice on it, promise. And all those times it got banged around in the car, not intentional. And I’m so, so, so sorry for staring at it with horrible expressions while I write. I’m just in pain because every word is being pulled from my fingers with the grace of using hot pliers to rip off a fingernail. Anyway, there was a kiss and make-up session and all seems to be working… for now.

Sometimes you just have to threaten these things by going on the Internet and looking for deals on new laptops.

Kinda like shopping for new boys… not that I’d do that or anything.

Anyway, before my week gets sucked into thin air like my dissertation, I should do the blog update. It’s been a busy one, folks.

Knit Knight

Ah, the knitting… it can only be improved with ice cream, which Laurie, Rachel and I consumed at exactly the same time since we learned that ice cream must be a group affair at Laurie’s. Not that we’re complaining… I mean, yeah, when you get out the chocolate ice cream I’m gonna join you. Rachel was gauge swatching (such a good little knitter), Laurie was working on a gorgeous scarf for a colleague (unless I steal it first), and I was doing a dish cloth for a housewarming present. (I forgot to take pictures before giving them away so I’ll have to do pattern updates later.)

We Are the Champions
You know it’s going to be a long night when after the first batter, the ump takes the girls’ favorite blue bat and gives it a toss as an illegal bat. Okay, I understand there are rules and all, but c’mon, you’re going to toss out the girls’ bat. Yeah, because we’re all hitting it out of the park. And the bat in question… a little league bat. It’s tiny, meant for 8 year olds. What damage are we going to do with that?

Curley demonstrates our exasperation.

Anyway, it was an epic battle for the coveted title of Thursday night co-rec champion, but the Mighty Marmosets pulled out ahead.

The Monkey Mojo was flowing.

Look out, Monday Night Champs. These chimps are coming for you!

AJ, This One’s For You
After the team celebrating, I attended a very different sort of celebration… a going-away party. Why they call these affairs “parties,” I just do not know. Unless you’re happy to be rid of some pesky sorts, why do we celebrate that our friends are packed into ten square feet of a truck to go off to new adventures?

Sure, I’m happy that AJ will have the chance to follow her heart and make lots of money as a big-wig lawyer, but I’m selfishly sad that I won’t be able to call her for pudding and Sprite when I get the stomach flu nor will we get together to play charades or go on rummage sale hunts. (Yes, I honestly enjoyed the charades. I know, I’m lame.)

I suppose that’s life. People leave. We have some drinks and enjoy some memories. We get a little sad that we aren’t the ones packing up our own U-haul (or horse trailer, take your pick). And then we go to house-warmings, a celebration of new living rooms to decorate with our sweeties.

Hilda’s House
Well, she lets Joe live there too as long as he remembers to put the seat down.

We inaugurated some new digs with a little paaaar-taaaay. Don’t worry, Maya, there was no 80’s breakdance jamboree nor were there any drag queens (at least that we know of). There was, however, an ode to bosoms composed (on the fridge) by the duo set to rival Shakespeare and Jonson, our own Rachel and Matthew.

And that, my friends, has been my week, aside from the countless hours at the library, in my office and the gym. No one needs to hear about the thrills of finding more damn articles to read or the joys of doing another round on the treadmill.

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