I hate computers.

No, no. It's true. I fargin despise them, even though they are the medium that allows this little ray of sunshine, I still hate computers. Specifically, I hate the HP Pavilion. More specifically, I hate the HP DVD writer 300n contained therein, which is currently holding all of our pictures hostage. It is refusing to recognize most disks, and for the few it does, it offers up a cheery ACCESS DENIED! message.

I hate computers.

Our pictures are being wrongfully imprisoned, and the moment I figure how to post their bail, the Pavilion will inch that much closer to being used solely as a paperweight. For the 1998 Yellow Pages. Slowly rotting at the base of the local dump.


This message written on the Dell Inspiron 1501. Take THAT, HP!

Some updates...

Here's a quick "stream of consciousness" thing of all the little tidbits I've wanted to post but don't have time:

• Andy came to work Saturday. He's got a clot on his liver, along with some non-malignant cysts that have been giving him extreme pain, hence his extended absence. They gave him something for the pain, but it made him too loopy to work. I think they're giving him blood thinners now.
• Dylan got a 'big-boy' bed. Two college graduates couldn't figure out all we had to do was separate Cam's bunk beds and we were set, so we went on craigslist and spent $200 for a kiddie captain's bed. The lady we bought it from lied to my face when I asked about the hardwear to put it together--it was the wrong stuff--so I had to rush over to Home Depot on a Sunday night. Thankfully, I found someone with a brain and together we figured a way to hold the dern thing up. C'est la vie...all's well that ends well. I can't believe he's three-and-a-half already, though, and getting bigger and brighter by the hour.
• The job search is not going well. Since my buddy Glen took his new job, he's been working until 7pm, so I've cooled off on that. I probably blew a project manager gig by not jumping on the stick like I should have--but on the other hand I still have no idea what the job actually entails, so I'm only sweating that but so much. Otherwise, I've got a list of job-related websites a mile long but I've only seen two jobs that are close to what I want. One is a hands-on manager, so it'd be a lateral move and I'll be pushing wheelbarrows until I'm seventy. The other is a sales position for a local nursery that starts with a $13K pay cut. Teaching is looking good again...or selling my bodily fluids. I read somewhere about niche sites that cater to specific careers, but damn if I know where they are. This could take a while. I had hoped to have this wrapped up by August 1st. Thankfully, I have a job to pay the bills for now and can afford to wait to make the right career move.
• Everybody wants to start a landscape company with me, but no one understands I have a mortgage to pay.

Drum Line

"Do you want me to cast that?", I asked. I always have visions from There's Something About Mary when Cam casts in the same county as me. Now, we've tethered our kayaks together--the wind is probably a touch strong for him to battle by himself all day. This way I can tow him if he gets tired and just might get to fish a little myself. Cory and Kevin were nearby and had landed more than a few fish already. Cam's got a half ounce jighead with a Moon Glow Gulp! attached to the ten pound line that was wound around his brand new reel, which in turn sat stoutly on his seven-foot light action rod. I sit no more than six feet away, facing him, and nervously hoped for a 'yes'.

"Yeah, go ahead. You do it", he says, and passes me his rod. Amen. There's only a small space between us to cast into, and I have to cast back into the wind (if I cast with the wind we'll run over the line as we drift). A flick of the wrists and the Gulp! arcs away, headed to a spot about twenty-five feet awBAM!!

Seemingly before the lure hits the water, the surface explodes and the fish is on it!!! "Here, Cam!!", I yell with excitement, "Take it! It's your rod!"

Cam shakes his head. "No! You do it!!" Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, says the reel as the fish burns off some line.

"Take. The. Rod.", I say, "and reel it in. It's your fish!" Cam reluctantly takes the rod and starts reeling hard. Zzzzzzzzzzzzz, says the reel as I realize I forgot to adjust the drag when I attached it to the rod this morning. After a few attempts, I get it set enough that Cam can feel the fish at the other end of the line as he reels. His eyes get big. Zzzzzzzzzz, says the reel and his eyes get bigger. This fish has shoulders. Cam takes a foot or two back, but the fish, still green, makes another run and the reel sings once again. "Watch him land a flipping 30 inch fish" I think to myself as I cheer him on. Back and forth it goes for another minute or two until Cam gets the fish close enough to the kayak for me to grab. I hoist it up for him to see and cry, "It's a drum!"

"A redfish?!?!", he asks. "That's my first one ever!! Is it big enough to keep?" Cam loves to take fish home, not so much for the eating but more for the cleaning. "I dunno, but he's FAT!" I lay a tape across Cam's fish and feel just a tinge of disappointment as it comes up a quarter-inch short. "Nope, sorry bud. He goes back. The rules don't get broken, even for your first red drum. Let's get some pictures, though."

Cancer Andy Update.

Yeah. Not so hot. He still makes it to work every now and agin, but I haven't seen him for a week or two. Last we spoke, he said his platelets were low, necessitating a shot of whatever into his bone marrow (ow!) to stimulate production. That in turn "made me look like a beaten slave". Some things made his face break out. His hair is starting to thin. And he's lost 20? 30? more? pounds. The Benadryl before the chemo makes him drunk.

On the bright side, he's still sucking air, but the outcome of this drama is becoming more dubious by the hour.