It occurred to me not long ago that unless I croak before my time there’ll be a new laptop in my future. This is a thought simultaneously thrilling and terrifying — of course I want a new MacBook Pro, but what will I do with all my old stuff? My laptop, like no other computer I’ve owned, has insinuated itself into my life in all the ways we were told the machines would, back in 1984. It has my music, my pictures, my finances, my work. I take 95 percent of my notes on it. There are folders upon folders labeled “Knight Ridder rants” and “secret project,” and a brand-new one called “ringtones.” (I’m going into the business; I hear it’s growing.)
If it died tomorrow — knocking wood furiously — I’d be bereft. I’d be out of business. On the other hand, I could buy a new MacBook Pro with a clear conscience. So there’s that.
Sorry for the day off yesterday; we had houseguests. We actually had guests twice in the last few days — for dinner on Saturday and dinner/overnight Monday. I took the recycling to the curb yesterday and noted eight wine bottles. (The beer bottles are returnable, and go in a separate bin.) I guess we had a good time. Actually, I remember all of it, and we did, except for the sailing. On Saturday it was blistering hot and there was too little wind; we got killed by blackflies. On Monday it was blistering hot and there was too much wind, necessitating reefing and scrambling and waves crashing across the bow. But no blackflies! That was good. John and Sam were our guests Monday, and brought their GPS, aka “the crumber,” a device that drops breadcrumbs as you perambulate around the forest. When we got back he synced it to Google Earth and displayed our route, and revealed that he also has a utility that will sync with his digital camera, so that we could download all the pictures we took and show, precisely, at which latitude and longitude they were taken.
If I’m attached to my computer, John is really, really attached. He and Sam were returning from a month in the U.P. “It’s so nice to transition back into wireless broadband,” he said. I could absolutely identify.
I have no bloggage, except to note that the president said a boo-boo word, and once again, the nation’s editors are wringing their hands over what to report about it. I swear, it’s like watching Scarlett and Mammy argue over whether it’s proper to show one’s bosom before 3 o’clock — in 2006.
Off to Ann Arbor for
sunstroke the art fair! Pictures and a report, perhaps, later.