It is with great (after all, this is graduation season) pomp and circumstance (what in the wide world does that mean, anyway?!?) that I announce the obvious -
"My computer is back home and working correctly."
It's still ancient, I still have dialup and the color scheme is still askew, but thanks to my handy-dandy brother-in-law, I can at least not have to wade through the bikes, cell phones and bimbo teenage girls at the library to check my email.
Tom survived his sailing adventures...
Bucky turned 15...
Savannah turned 11...
Our bedroom is much prettier...
I have pictures of all the above events - relocating them to this spot will take time and energy that I am currently short on, so don't hold your breath.
Something I've discovered in the past month - I truly have no patience for texting. Bucky bought a cell phone. It never leaves his side. It's like an appendage on his hip, one of those stretchy wristband/keychain thingys the Walmart managers keep on their arm and when they need to feel ultra important they snap themselves with it, but they can't really get away from it, they NEED it. (They want you to think it's the keys to the safe, but really it's the keys to the paper towel dispenser.)
This cell phone tumor presents a way to check up on Bucky when he's not in my sight. I've tried to text him exactly twice. The first time it took me longer to punch in "Come home now, I need the keys" than if I would have called a locksmith and had him cut me a new set. The second time, as I was finishing up my laborious task of saying "We r here, where r u?" in text-ese, thankfully he walked into view and I didn't have to admit that my adrenaline level was peaking at 720,000 and make up excuses for why I was in the back of an ambulance wearing nothing but leather restraints and screaming "Alltel sucks!" at the top of my lungs.
I saw a poster at Walmart a few days ago that was a big list of Text Talk Shortcuts. I noticed that POS means Parents Over Shoulder. What fool actually puts in writing the definition of the code for "I can't talk now, my parents will kill me if they see this"? I would have been curious, had I noticed one of my kids saying "POS", but I probably would have assumed that A. They bought a vowel from Vanna while adding a postscript, or B. They're balancing my checkbook for me and writing in the Point of Sale transactions. But not now! Ha! Now I know they're hiding something from me if they're POSing somebody!
If any adults reading this are proficient at texting, you should be ashamed of yourself! In the amount of time it takes to send a single 5 word text, have you any idea how many times you could kiss your spouse and totally gross out your kids??!??
(That's so much more fun!)