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She likes my journal !!

They have better beds on the A ward.

Thanksgiving in Portland

December 22nd, 2000

What The Morning Brings
We appear to have run out of energy here in California and maybe on the rest of the west coast. I say maybe, because nobody really trusts what we're hearing. The state government could as easily be looking the other way as not while the power companies do some creative multi-billion dollar bookkeeping. Money, you know. Lots of it. All those lobbying dollars. Insurance, for example, as it's practiced here in California, is a criminal activity, and the power people may merely be taking instruction from their script. Hi, ho. The lights are on, the computer is working and I'm sitting here getting into his long Christmas weekend.

I upgraded the computer last night, installed a new hard drive I've had sitting on the shelf and loaded Windows 2000, then reloaded a stack of programs and utilities that took me well into the evening. This morning I went to the IBM site and found the jumper settings I needed to make my now old drive with all my data stand in line behind the new one with a SCSI ID of "1" instead of "0". For those of you who don't mess with these things, it isn't difficult, but it takes time and there's always that little voice asking: "What did you miss, my friend? Are you going to lose your data? Do you have all those software keys, the ones they sent you by email when you registered, the one's that were printed on the registration sheet and not on the CD itself, the ones you threw out with that stack of other stuff?" At the moment all my email is missing, but, you know, I still have the journal.

Today has been a day of mental fog. I got up early and went grocery shopping knowing full well if I delayed it would be hopeless. A sack of grapefruit, a gallon of orange juice, Cheerios, a small plastic container of port wine flavored cheese product which for some reason has become traditional over the Christmas holidays. Home by 7:30. The rest of the day futzing with the computer between naps. I think it's a psychological thing, yesterday being the shortest day of the year, the holidays themselves. In the old days (back in the days of sod huts and horse drawn plows) folks probably huddled together in front of the fire, waiting for summer, minds as foggy as mine, mending the odd horse harness and singing Norwegian drinking songs. Mind in a fog is kinda nice if you don't actually have to accomplish anything before March.

I have to admit I haven't done very much. I got a card off to my nephew with some money inside, Silvie in Portland although I'd searched the web for a while looking for a kit of some kind he could connect to his computer, a robot or robot arm. Something you think is cool when you're fourteen. Or fifty seven. Not much excuse for letting it drop and then just sending money, is there. Although I recall that not being so bad when I was his age. When they sent you money. I got a Christmas card from The Same Road Traveled which included a nice little Christmas sock, about four inches high, that she'd obviously done herself. Have I sent a Christmas card to her? No. Shit, I haven't sent a card to my mother, although she has a birthday on the 31st and I always remember that. Mind in a fog. Not a good sign, mind in a fog, no tree, no cards, no whoop-dee-doop of any sort other than a bunch of stuff I seem to have purchased for myself. You wonder why I wonder about my habits and what they mean for my future if it happens to drag out. Still. The night is young. I'm tired, now, but less fuzzy and feeling good. Get some of that sleep I've heard about. See what the morning brings.

The photographs were taken over Thanksgiving in Portland. The quote which I will change one of these days is by Jane Wagner.