Soft shell

Oh hey, how are you? I’m sorry for the extended absence*; I promise I didn’t forget about you. It’s just that I’ve been dealing with some things, and while technically I could have updated this blog on Benny’s computer or on my phone or something, I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind to do so. You see, I’ve been spending money. And there’s nothing that puts me in a bad mood like spending money.

It started last week when Benny and I decided we needed new phones. The phone app I need for some work that I do is now only working with operating systems that won’t work on my old phone, and Benny’s phone would only go to sleep if he pushed the button thirty times, so it was a necessity. We grimaced at the larger size and price of the new phones but went ahead and bought them. Okay.

The problems started when I tried to transfer everything from my old phone to my new phone and I got caught in a “you need a new version of iTunes/you need a new operating system on your laptop if you want this new version of iTunes/’OH MY GOD IF I HAVE TO BUY A NEW LAPTOP NOW JUST TO GET THIS PHONE WORKING I AM GOING TO LOSE IT'” mess, but 15 hours or so later, things were all peachy. My old laptop was chugging a little bit harder with its new operating system, and I no longer had Photoshop, but whatever.

Three days later, my laptop display disappeared. Well, it didn’t disappear but it was so dim that I could only see it if I closed the curtains and shone a flashlight on it, and that was not really a workable thing. I kept losing the cursor. Shouting. Crying. Disassociation, mild numbness. Benny did some research online and it wasn’t looking good.

On Friday, Benny took my laptop in to the Genius Bar because 1) I decided I had to go to a meeting, 2) he is awesome but you already knew that, and 3) he might have been worried that I was going to shout and cry in public if I went to the Genius Bar and heard bad news. I’ve been known to cry in public over the cost of a standing rib roast planned for Christmas dinner.

I was at said meeting when I got a text from Benny asking if I wanted to hear the good news or the bad news. Then he said the good news was he was bringing home some fried chicken. Bad news was something something new display needed mucho dinero not worth it and besides my laptop would have to be shipped someplace weird because the normal service department didn’t work on “vintage” computers. I pictured the wax-mustachioed gent wearing an arm garter and knickers who would be willing to work on my vintage computer and felt very old. Like I should be wearing this sign on my back:

This Monday I went with my old laptop in tow and bought a new laptop, but when I asked the Genius to transfer my files from my old laptop to my new one, he said it was going to cost $99. “You want ninety-nine more dollars. I… just… spent…” Crying was history. Hyperventilating and numbness too. I was at Looney Toons head exploding now. “OKAY. IF THIS IS THE ONLY CHOICE I HAVE. IS THIS THE ONLY CHOICE I HAVE?” The Genius adjacent to my Genius was looking concerned.

“Oh yeah; we can’t do this if your old laptop isn’t in working order.”
“I need to check with my manager.””DO THAT.”
(brief interlude; Genius returns)
“Have you backed this up recently?”
“Oh! You can just transfer everything from that then.”

He assured me that everything would be exactly the same as a one-to-one machine transfer, and I brightened and went on my way.

I got home, Benny had the misfortune of being home as well, and we then proceeded to attempt the transfer. Benny handled all the internet research and texts to tech-savvier friends, and I handled the “I WOULD LIKE TO THROW THIS THING OUT THE WINDOW” side of things. It was a little nuts, but after transfer of half the things one way and half the things the other way, everything came over to this new laptop on which I am now writing this post.

And during that transfer, my old laptop suddenly flickered back into existence and is working just swell as of this moment.

*Sorry; I promised myself I would never write “sorry I haven’t updated in a while” ever on my blog. I also promised myself I would never call it a blog, so maybe I should stop making promises to myself in regards to this thing.

Slow but steady

“Dang it, Clark! I was totally winning the race. Pete was taking a nap over there under that tree, I had finally overtaken him, and you had to go and pick me up. I’m not lost, I tell you. Just put me back down and let me get to the finish line, and then after that you can pick me up all you want. Clark. PUT ME DOWN.”


Published in: on August 19, 2013 at 3:26 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Sudden outbreak

Something’s developing, friends. I’m not sure what, but something’s definitely developing. Let me just lay it out for you, and maybe you can help me put the pieces together.

You may recall that some months ago I came across a few desperate “Lost Turtle” notices. I’ve seen a lost turtle flyer before this group of notices, actually, and the idea of a lost turtle never fails to make me laugh. I mean, I know it’s sad, but not being able to track down an escaped turtle is like losing a glacier. Lost turtle. Ha.

This past weekend, Jennifer Sharpe posted a photo on Flickr of a really good “Found Turtle” notice. This particular flyer followed the format of the “Found Bunny” poster I have in my collection, in that the finder required interested parties to identify the animal in order to claim it. As with the bunny, I think this was done over some concern that the animal would be claimed by a nefarious chef lacking stew ingredients rather than the rightful pet owner.

And then, on my way to work yesterday morning, I drove by the following:


Wow, I thought. What a coincidence. The very same flyer. I went at lunch to retrieve the flyer for my collection, but when I compared it to Jennifer’s, I noticed that it was not the same flyer at all. This one had different phone numbers, and the description of the turtle was readily provided. It was a different found turtle.

So what’s going on? I have three theories:

  1. Both Jennifer and I are the victims of some sort of turtle-themed prank.
  2. Jennifer is in fact the perpetrator of, or at least an accessory to, this prank. After all, her father is Mal Sharpe, a man who has made a career out of confusing people. I don’t think this is the case, however. Judging by her NPR pieces, Jennifer seems more interested in digging through dumpsters and finding houses that look like spaceships than trying to convince a random person on the street that a coyote is in fact a musical instrument.
  3. The turtles are coming. Everybody run. Or at least walk briskly.
Published in: on November 25, 2008 at 11:17 am  Comments (3)  
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