The husband is a long-time Linux man. And has, unsurprisingly, always had PCs. So when he got his folks a computer many years ago, he bought them a Dell. If the computer had been for his own personal use, he would have just built it himself. But buying them a machine from Dell ensured they would have a support number to call in times of need. And that worked. For a while. The warranty has long since expired and the old box seems to be causing far too many problems these days (some of which are operator errors). So the husband decided it was high time for a switch. And surprised me by buying my in-laws…a Mac mini. Goodbye crappy Windows ME. Goodbye Internet Explorer (we’d tried to get my father-in-law to use Firefox exclusively, but I don’t think that was happening). Goodbye bi-weekly tech support calls to our house. See, the husband also purchased the three-year Apple protection plan. Yes, it was $150. But that boils down to less than a dollar a week. Well worth the money, I’d say. We delivered the new little box last night and I have to say, I was sad to see it go. But I’m sure it will work out as intended, and hopefully the Tiger we’ve unleashed on my unsuspecting in-laws will play nice.

Life could be better. I’m on day three of pre-migraine madness, complete with motion-sickness. If I turn my head too quickly, or heck, just get up to walk, I find myself teetering on the brink…of blowing chunks. And I feel like I am trapped in a cage match, with my opponent’s thumbs being continuously pressed into my eye sockets. And the boys aren’t helping. They’ve been unbearably crabby and unfun to be around as well. If I could shoot laser beams out of my eyes the husband’s life would be in peril. Seriously. And the little man has become the boy who cried wolf. Each morning, when it’s time to leave for school, he asks me if it’s the weekend. When I reply no, he insists he is sick. Too sick to go to school. In reality the boy just wants more quality one-on-one time with the GameCube. It ain’t gonna happen, kid. On top of all that, my daily commute, complete with road construction, is killing me. And yesterday the Civic’s check engine light came on. And has stayed on. Grrrr. At least flickr’s new new things, clustering and interestingness, are decent distractions. And I couldn’t help but smile at the little man’s inappropriate but funny word mixup of the day: booty-trapped. But I’m ready to feel better. Any minute now. Yep.

Criminy. It’s flipping August already. That means the little man and I leave for San Francisco next week. The dates that we’ll be away were selected specifically to:
a) coincide with a good chunk of his ten-day school break; and
b) procure the cheapest direct flight possible.

But there are two factors I failed to take into consideration:
1) I will be missing much of this year’s Fringe Festival. Though I will attempt to see Adventures in Mating (a romantic comedy inspired by the “Choose Your Own Adventure” books) before I go, as well as my co-worker friend’s Unicycle Showcase.
2) I will also be missing my own wedding anniversary. Doh. Actually had to look the date up in my weblog because I can never remember it…what a good little wifey I am, huh? Will have to make it up to the husband somehow.

There are many other things going on that I will, hopefully, not miss. The night before we head out Le Tigre is playing at First Avenue. And next month marks the little man’s 6th birthday (6?!). And I begin my Arabic Language for Beginners course (yes, I did sign up after all). And there will be a bonfire up north, put on by an amateur astronomer/coworker at his observatory. As well as the Headwaters Walk for Justice. And Sigur Ros will be at the State Theater on September 24th. And in October The Decemberists come back to town, on the 21st, at First Avenue. And we’re going to see Cirque du Soleil…at some point. And of course there’s Halloween to plan for. Plenty to keep us occupied. And preoccupied.

Sneaking into a wooded suburban park after dark, undetected, shouldn’t be that hard. But the degree of difficulty goes up when you’ve got a group of, oh, thirteen or more. It was less than half an hour before we were busted. Turns out the sheriff’s deputies had been watching us since our arrival. They said it wasn’t uncommon for them to come across naked drunks, rolling around in the playground’s cargo nets. So they were more than a little surprised to catch us…sober, completely clothed, and playing…freeze tag. They apologized for the $40 citations, saying we seemed like nice kids, but they’d already called it in when they first spotted us, and had to follow through. Darned procedure and all. That was what, seven years ago? Maybe eight. Saturday I returned to the scene of the crime for the first time, with the little man in tow. It was fun, but it wasn’t quite the same…what with all the daylight, and the legitimacy of our visit. Still, we might go back again. Maybe closer to dusk.
Bonus: She may be fussy, but she sure is funny: I always forget to beseech a higher power in times of STUPENDOUS FUCKING STUPIDITY.
Plus: On dodging the bullet, so to speak…this morning I found myself craving a particular kind of muffin, vegan banana chocolate chip, which can be found at the coffee shop my friends own. I considered stopping by before or after dropping the little man off at school, but laziness prevailed. Good thing too. We would have been over there just as this was happening: Police attacked on anniversary of officer’s death.
And: My IM client seems to be freaking out. It alleges that all my buddies have been logged in for over 49710 days. That ain’t right.