Parts is Parts
Aug. 16th, 2009 03:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogThis day has been divided into a bunch of pieces. Some functioning better than others.
There's no way to go right back to sleep after feeding the Big Kids at 6 a.m.- Zoey comes out of her crib and wants to play for a good hour or so after that- so even though it's Sunday, I just stayed up and got to some things early. Gassed up Eleanor's truck, which I'd used for some errands yesterday; got more than half of our back yard mowed by just past nine (a push mower is perfect for this, as it doesn't wake the neighbors) and had been to church and retrieved Eleanor's repaired power supply all by just past noon.
On second thought, make that Eleanor's sortof-repaired power supply. The client who fixed it for me (not my usual guru, who isn't around) didn't charge me for the repair, and I got what I paid for. The transformer transforms again, but the replacement tip on the charger isn't connecting to the board just right. At best, I can jiggle it a little and get it to charge the battery, long enough to give Eleanor an hour or so of computer time before it gets grumpy again. The real aftermarket unit is on the way and we hope to have it by midweek.
So, with the heat of the day pending outside and not much else to do inside while the battery charged, I pretended it was 6:30 again and headed abed. Zoey, by now, was already quite ready for these developments and was waiting next to one of my pillows. Within minutes, we were having an impressive purring-snoring contest.
I awoke just now alone, so I must've won.
----
There's a little girl in church, who sits on the other side of the aisle with her father and sister, that's a dead ringer for Disaster Girl.
Little did we know how far back her deviltry went:
----
One of my nieces posted one of those interminable Facebook memes, this one called BEST NAME ANAGRAM or somesuch. Since this one actually runs offsite without needing permission to raid your account for friendslists or whatever, I tried it out, but not with my own name:
There's no way to go right back to sleep after feeding the Big Kids at 6 a.m.- Zoey comes out of her crib and wants to play for a good hour or so after that- so even though it's Sunday, I just stayed up and got to some things early. Gassed up Eleanor's truck, which I'd used for some errands yesterday; got more than half of our back yard mowed by just past nine (a push mower is perfect for this, as it doesn't wake the neighbors) and had been to church and retrieved Eleanor's repaired power supply all by just past noon.
On second thought, make that Eleanor's sortof-repaired power supply. The client who fixed it for me (not my usual guru, who isn't around) didn't charge me for the repair, and I got what I paid for. The transformer transforms again, but the replacement tip on the charger isn't connecting to the board just right. At best, I can jiggle it a little and get it to charge the battery, long enough to give Eleanor an hour or so of computer time before it gets grumpy again. The real aftermarket unit is on the way and we hope to have it by midweek.
So, with the heat of the day pending outside and not much else to do inside while the battery charged, I pretended it was 6:30 again and headed abed. Zoey, by now, was already quite ready for these developments and was waiting next to one of my pillows. Within minutes, we were having an impressive purring-snoring contest.
I awoke just now alone, so I must've won.
----
There's a little girl in church, who sits on the other side of the aisle with her father and sister, that's a dead ringer for Disaster Girl.
Little did we know how far back her deviltry went:
----
One of my nieces posted one of those interminable Facebook memes, this one called BEST NAME ANAGRAM or somesuch. Since this one actually runs offsite without needing permission to raid your account for friendslists or whatever, I tried it out, but not with my own name:
Ann Coulter's best name anagram is UNCLEAN ROT
Now, I happen to know there's a better one than even that, but for a family-friendly networking site, it'll do nicely.
----
Today's the one game of the week that the Mets allow to local over-air television in New York City. Time Warner's not even bothering to put these on a spare channel on its Buffalo system anymore. Can't say I blame them; why would we want to see our heroes getting beaten and killed any more often than we have to?
----
I still need to reflect a bit more on Time Traveler's Wife before spoiling away with a full review, but the adventure of getting to and from the film was almost as harried as one of Henry's little chronological freakouts.
The major multiplex for us is on Transit Road, a few lights south of Main Street (or as it's now known, the Satish Mohan Memorial Crime Scene) and part of the semi-permanent construction zone that's been rebuilding that stretch of Transit since ancient times. It's a bitch getting into the Regal Cinema main entrance on Transit, so we've always used the side entrance on Wehrle, behind the Media Play (I know it's not called that anymore- go stick an AM&A's shopping bag in your yap).
On second thought, make that we almost always go in that way. There was a grand parade of moviegoers driving to that entrance, seeing it totally blocked off by the construction, heading further down, u-turning in some schnook's driveway, and heading back past where we'd meant to turn. Unlike most of them who were doing it the right way and turning back onto Transit to get to the main entrance, I said, "Wait! I can get in through the Quizno's lot!"
Well, I could if I was driving a golf cart. There was a paved path built to accommodate just about that width of vehicle, between two telephone poles which barely allowed my dumb little Focus to pass between. Eleanor watched the one on the right, I the left, and we passed through the gauntlet, laughing our fool heads off at how we'd gotten there.
Then I almost lost her in the parking lot after I retrieved the car to pick her up curbside.
In between, the movie was quite good, but I think on the whole, we had more laughs for free in the car park.
----
There's still work on my desk which needs to be attacked, and virus scans are running on the external drives which I'd reconnected to Eleanor's computer after it sorta powered up; one of them must've been infected when she had the other kerfuffle a week or so ago. My plans are firmed up for Tuesday/Wednesday in Binghamton, Friday near Wistah Mass, and Saturday in Queens (although I may be the only Met fan still stupid enough to show up). Thursday, especially, is open to planning-type things, as are good swaths of the other days if you're in or near one of them spots.
Now, I happen to know there's a better one than even that, but for a family-friendly networking site, it'll do nicely.
----
Today's the one game of the week that the Mets allow to local over-air television in New York City. Time Warner's not even bothering to put these on a spare channel on its Buffalo system anymore. Can't say I blame them; why would we want to see our heroes getting beaten and killed any more often than we have to?
----
I still need to reflect a bit more on Time Traveler's Wife before spoiling away with a full review, but the adventure of getting to and from the film was almost as harried as one of Henry's little chronological freakouts.
The major multiplex for us is on Transit Road, a few lights south of Main Street (or as it's now known, the Satish Mohan Memorial Crime Scene) and part of the semi-permanent construction zone that's been rebuilding that stretch of Transit since ancient times. It's a bitch getting into the Regal Cinema main entrance on Transit, so we've always used the side entrance on Wehrle, behind the Media Play (I know it's not called that anymore- go stick an AM&A's shopping bag in your yap).
On second thought, make that we almost always go in that way. There was a grand parade of moviegoers driving to that entrance, seeing it totally blocked off by the construction, heading further down, u-turning in some schnook's driveway, and heading back past where we'd meant to turn. Unlike most of them who were doing it the right way and turning back onto Transit to get to the main entrance, I said, "Wait! I can get in through the Quizno's lot!"
Well, I could if I was driving a golf cart. There was a paved path built to accommodate just about that width of vehicle, between two telephone poles which barely allowed my dumb little Focus to pass between. Eleanor watched the one on the right, I the left, and we passed through the gauntlet, laughing our fool heads off at how we'd gotten there.
Then I almost lost her in the parking lot after I retrieved the car to pick her up curbside.
In between, the movie was quite good, but I think on the whole, we had more laughs for free in the car park.
----
There's still work on my desk which needs to be attacked, and virus scans are running on the external drives which I'd reconnected to Eleanor's computer after it sorta powered up; one of them must've been infected when she had the other kerfuffle a week or so ago. My plans are firmed up for Tuesday/Wednesday in Binghamton, Friday near Wistah Mass, and Saturday in Queens (although I may be the only Met fan still stupid enough to show up). Thursday, especially, is open to planning-type things, as are good swaths of the other days if you're in or near one of them spots.