Had more anesthesia / torture yesterday. Christian reports that I was merely a bit paler than usual when I woke up, not… “yellow-grey, like after the last surgery. You looked as if you’d been reanimated! They must have given you way too much anesthetic when you woke up halfway through”
Now I am in a straight cast and it hurts terribly. I slept til almost 3:00 p.m. just to try to dull the pain a bit. Note to self: never, ever break anything ever again.
Remember the song “Nick Cave Dolls” on this album? Yeah, I didn’t think so. Ann Magnuson sings about how she wishes they made Nick Cave dolls and at the end of the song, breathily sighs “I want one!” That’s how I feel about the new Apple iPod. The name is stupid, the concept is great. I’ll need one of these Orange Micro cards to use it, but so what? Just think – 1000 songs in the palm of your hand. And it’s both shiny and pretty (I’m magpie-like when it comes to such qualities).
Can’t figure out what to get me for Christmas, my birthday, or just because? Check out this site. I am particularly fond of this shirt. I may not be in tech support anymore, but I still bear the emotional scars. Christian says I am difficult to shop for – au contraire, mon frere! Perhaps I should I make my own online gift registry so everyone won’t be limited to Borders gift certificates and cash. I just might.
C’s magic rabbit Thumper would like this new blog.
Someday I am going to be a clothes horse: eBay seller Voluptuous Vintage, enoki world, and Vintage Vogue will be my clothing suppliers of choice, with a few Geiger and Loden-Frey originals thrown in for that Alpine Girl look (see also ca. 1995 me). Fluevog and Madden will do the shoes, M.A.C. and Clinique the maquillage. Until then, I’m just going to wear a l
ot of black and hope for the best.
Muslim feminist cowgirls unite!
The latest on my arm: if it doesn’t improve by Monday, they’re going to knock me out cold again and put it in a straight cast. Glorious. I can already feel the pain. Right now I have a $1300 brace torturing me as many hours per day as I can handle, and that’s bad enough. Plus how do you get dressed if your entire arm is sticking out straight like Frankenstein? Heck, I already have the scar, why not the arm movements, too?
The most glorious news on another Plainsong kind of rainy day (see 12 Oct entry). Last night Tamas successfully copied all information off the hard drive from my dead Powerbook! He is my Mac Daddy / Mac Jedi. Though it was poor Christian who had to deal with me on the phone as I was trying to plug the adapter into the drive… “So, where is pin 1 again?” (interrupt, interrupt)
I almost drove him crazy. He puts up with so much. As Aunt Debbie said after my surgery, “he’s a saint for taking care of you…” What, did she drive up from South Carolina and hide in the cupboard? I am a very bad patient. Incorrigible. A pain sissy: you can use my remarks as a sort of countdown timer to when my next painkiller is due – they get nastier as time runs out. I could also very easily be called many other unrepeatable things.
After some acupuncture research tonight for my article, I’ll be sequestered at home playing with my 8500, which is arriving today. Then, as soon as Tamas does my new system build, I will be starting on my first Bad Novel. Kayt and I are participating in National Novel Writing Month in November. I have promised Tamas once the machine is done I will play quietly by myself for a while, as he is going back to being an Artist. Good. He’s immensely talented, he should.
UPS Tracking No Match for Determined, Bitter Girl
I’ve been obsessively checking UPS’s online tracking service looking for my new Mac. I refreshed after I saw two UPS men with a big cart go past my office and wow! it said delivered! so I ran to the mailroom. No go. It’s not there. I call UPS. They can tell me it was delivered, and who signed for it, but not where it was delivered. Ok. I dash downstairs – the security guards haven’t seen UPS. I check the dock. Nada. Just as I’m walking back in defeat, I corner a UPS guy by the elevator. He promises to come up to my floor. On the elevator, I start a conversation with a lady headed upstairs:
“Can you believe UPS managed to lose a package inside the building? It was signed for by someone named Lips, but there’s no one by that name on my floor.”
The woman says “That’s my floor! I’ll take you to our mailroom!”
And she does. By the time the UPS guy arrives, I have found my package one floor up. I am overjoyed once more. Can I restrain myself ’til tonight? Doubtful. My officemate glances at the big box and says “What, do you have a dog in there?”
Competing for my attention and affection: my interlibrary loan book The Bear’s Embrace has arrived at the library. I heard the author on NPR and this story made me cringe even more than most people recoil from my scar. She described being attacked by a bear and hearing the bear’s teeth scraping her skull. It sounded like a dog gnawing a bone. Oooh. Icky.
Christian is making it very tough for Tamas to maintain his coolest-boy-on-earth status. When my laptop died, Tamas and I popped the case open, only to find a strange little connector from the hard drive to the motherboard. (This was after a half-day search for a Torx T-8: say what you want about Sears, but at least they sell strange screwdrivers separately and I didn’t have to get an entire set). So much for immediately transplanting it into an external drive and getting my data that way.
Christian contacts some German hackers, who promptly supply us with the pin-out configuration, and then he calls Black Box (the best computer supply place on earth). His guy there could have made an adapter from scratch, but he referred us to a supplier who has them ready-made instead. No more pointless bidding on eBay for old 5300s! Better still, one of the local computer stores who deals with that supplier has one in stock and I’m going to pick it up tonight. Glee!
Some girls get flowers for Sweetest Day – I get a 44 pin female to 40 pin male 2.5″ to 3.5″ hard drive cable adapter with power adapter attached. I like it better that way.
I almost forgot to mention my new monitor! Welcome, dear 17″ monitor, to the house of barking dachshund and Green Taras. If I lived in a cute little seaside cottage, the type that always has a name, or perhaps a large English country estate, I would call it that.
My physical therapist and I had a clever idea today: if my bicep’s overcompensation is delaying my progress, why not shoot it up with muscle relaxants and proceed from there? Her colleague jokingly suggested Botox. Hey – if it can paralyze the wrinkle-causing forehead muscles of Park Avenue socialites, why not use it to make my naughty bicep behave?
Meanwhile, have made several dear out-of-state friends ill with my new scar link. I warned them – no eating 20 minutes before or after viewing! I have to look at it every minute of every day, except for when I’m sleeping. Then I have nightmares about the three crows who have taken up residence in my yard – they like to stare at me. It’s very disconcerting. They’ll actually line up in a row in the front yard and watch me put the key in the lock. Mom thinks they’re my three grandmothers watching out for me since the surgery.
Well, ok. It’s not as strange as the time I felt my (dead) great-grandmother’s presence in my kitchen as I picked up one of her old pans. That happened around this time of year. My grandfather, her only child, was going in for some sort of exploratory surgery, and it was close to both her birthday and the day she died. As I was telling my mom about the incident, my father (the taciturn, cranky, rational one of the family) said: “She was here, too.” Then he left the room.
As my mother escorted me out to my car, she said “Don’t worry, Grandpa will be fine.” Huh? I hadn’t heard anything about his surgery. No one ever tells me anything. We then realized that if such things are possible, Grandma was probably checking in on each of us to make sure we were all ok. It’s comforting to know. But this crow thing has just got to stop…
Tamas is a genius, and he has “Straight Outta Compton” on MP3. Good combo. We are having a fun kumbaya singalong with NWA.
I convinced him to take a picture of my scar with his new Kodak digital camera. He didn’t want to, but he did, because he is my best friend in the entire world. Warning: do not eat anything 20 minutes before or after looking at the picture!