Strange times ... general update
Strange times.
My computer is about 95% back to normal -- that is, all the software's loaded and working, all the day-to-day data is loaded and working, I even found a February backup of ALL the MSWord docs, so all the good old stuff that I sometimes refer to is back in live space, and all the old novel drafts I worked on last year ... the only stuff missing is a few dozen updated files of which the earlier versions exist, and a couple of specific things I wrote this summer that seem to be totally gone.
One of those is the sermon I wrote about Abundance ... oh, but wait -- didn't I e-mail that to someone? Yes, I did. And there it is, in the successfully backed-up Outlook Express files. Hmm. Maybe if I think of a few other things I'll be able to find them, too. Hmm.
Still to add -- the rest of the pictures.
Still not quite right -- an assortment of settings in various software. If I'd realized at the time that I would need them, and that they would somehow NOT be preserved when things needed to be "reinstalled" (not just "copied") ... Maybe I'd have tried to figure out how to back them up. What they are just now is annoying.
Like: WHERE in Windows XP do I get to tell it that my Default Keyboard, from the moment the machine wakes up, is Dvorak? (I've got that set for my User Name, but my Password still wants QWERTY ... which always makes me stop and think. Rats.)
Or: WHERE in Windows XP can I tell it that I DON'T want mouse hesitation or touch-pad tremor to equal 'click here' ?
And: WHAT ever happened to the color scheme I spent days getting 'just right' and have now lost forever (sigh)?
None of these are important. It's just an annoyance, along with dozens of other trivia.
Beloved Dog has moved out, is delightedly settling in with her new full-time family. I get to visit, at least briefly, on Tuesday. The house is weirdly quiet without her. And some things are better.
I've spent several multi-hour sessions working upstairs in my office, clearing out, organizing, filing. There's more to do, but already I feel more in control and in touch with what's up there. Soon I'll have some space cleared for the Thanksgiving visitations, which begin on the 17th.
I sat down at the piano yesterday, for only the second or third time since I sprained my fingers the day Beloved Dog arrived home. I can't play for long, but indeed all the fingers find their notes. So the trade-off is complete: in the spring I got Beloved Dog and lost the piano; now in the fall I have sent Beloved Dog to greener pastures and taken the piano back.
Weaving continues moving forward, even though my eye is not yet back to normal. This afternoon B and I will string up the loom for her placemats, and then the blissful meditative part of the process begins. A bonus: during the clean-up upstairs I found two warps I'd made last fall. Maybe after these mats I can string one of them, and even perhaps complete a second set. We'll see.
The Eye ... I keep reaching to clean the glasses I'm not wearing. The floater has shrunk and thinned hour by hour, but apparently part of what it's doing is dissipating into tiny droplets or fragments that are becoming more and more uniformly distributed throughout what should be the clear gel of the vitreous.
What I see through that eye is the world with normal acuity, except for an increasingly uniform cloud of gray-rimmed water droplets. Probably, the doctor says, this is the blood from the initial bleed. Probably, the doctor says, the body is preparing to re-absorb it, first breaking it mechanically into small fragments as the vitreous moves (as I move my eye). Probably, in other words, this is fine. Likely within the next week or two it will clear. Right now, though, I don't much like it.
Autumn ...
The weather ... the light continues so gray it's becoming disturbing. Rain everywhere, which is okay, but the grayness ... can't we have some light?
Then, anniversaries and resonances -- my Mom's death on the 23rd, several years ago ... and then on the 24th something happens to my right eye. For most of her life my Mom would often remark that her "right eye was always the weakest" and that it was "the one things happened to." I don't need to continue that pattern. I don't like this timing -- is there a message for me? Since I feel like I don't want to hear it, I need to ask: is there a message I'm missing or ignoring?
Now gatherings and partings -- I'm gearing up for Thanksgiving. At the moment it looks like we'll have about 18 sleepover family and probably 30 or 35 for Dinner On the Day ... which will be marvelous and also a lot to do. Everyone will pitch in with everything, so it won't be a burden. The two exceptions are my choice. I learned long ago never to let anybody empty the dishwasher who doesn't live here -- they're bound to put something away where none of us inmates can find it. And the sheets and towels will get done after they all leave.
But as soon as the wonderful party is over and the cleanup complete, I need to pack up the car and be ready to drive to Florida and move to the bigger boat and get ready for big major travel -- maybe Guatemala? -- on a boat so big I can't imagine sailing her alone. A boat I've only been on one inland motoring trip with. (I see I'm apprehensive, but this is totally unnecessary -- it's just a product of unfamiliarity. Probably there's more to talk about, about the boat. But at the moment I'm focused on parting.)
I get to leave behind my covensisters, my CUUPS chapter, my ties to congregants and neighbors and family here. I get to leave behind the woods, the land, even the car I like driving. Not to mention the Cat that I've been missing since the arrival of Dog, who make take another two weeks to forgive me now that the Dog is gone, and will then be properly furious when I disappear. I get to leave behind my loom (at least, unless I decide to take it with me in case of shore space to work in). The piano, my Altar ... I'm noticing I'm not happy about this. I can always come back for a visit, can't I? I'll be back in April anyway, won't I?
So ... strange times.
My computer is about 95% back to normal -- that is, all the software's loaded and working, all the day-to-day data is loaded and working, I even found a February backup of ALL the MSWord docs, so all the good old stuff that I sometimes refer to is back in live space, and all the old novel drafts I worked on last year ... the only stuff missing is a few dozen updated files of which the earlier versions exist, and a couple of specific things I wrote this summer that seem to be totally gone.
One of those is the sermon I wrote about Abundance ... oh, but wait -- didn't I e-mail that to someone? Yes, I did. And there it is, in the successfully backed-up Outlook Express files. Hmm. Maybe if I think of a few other things I'll be able to find them, too. Hmm.
Still to add -- the rest of the pictures.
Still not quite right -- an assortment of settings in various software. If I'd realized at the time that I would need them, and that they would somehow NOT be preserved when things needed to be "reinstalled" (not just "copied") ... Maybe I'd have tried to figure out how to back them up. What they are just now is annoying.
Like: WHERE in Windows XP do I get to tell it that my Default Keyboard, from the moment the machine wakes up, is Dvorak? (I've got that set for my User Name, but my Password still wants QWERTY ... which always makes me stop and think. Rats.)
Or: WHERE in Windows XP can I tell it that I DON'T want mouse hesitation or touch-pad tremor to equal 'click here' ?
And: WHAT ever happened to the color scheme I spent days getting 'just right' and have now lost forever (sigh)?
None of these are important. It's just an annoyance, along with dozens of other trivia.
Beloved Dog has moved out, is delightedly settling in with her new full-time family. I get to visit, at least briefly, on Tuesday. The house is weirdly quiet without her. And some things are better.
I've spent several multi-hour sessions working upstairs in my office, clearing out, organizing, filing. There's more to do, but already I feel more in control and in touch with what's up there. Soon I'll have some space cleared for the Thanksgiving visitations, which begin on the 17th.
I sat down at the piano yesterday, for only the second or third time since I sprained my fingers the day Beloved Dog arrived home. I can't play for long, but indeed all the fingers find their notes. So the trade-off is complete: in the spring I got Beloved Dog and lost the piano; now in the fall I have sent Beloved Dog to greener pastures and taken the piano back.
Weaving continues moving forward, even though my eye is not yet back to normal. This afternoon B and I will string up the loom for her placemats, and then the blissful meditative part of the process begins. A bonus: during the clean-up upstairs I found two warps I'd made last fall. Maybe after these mats I can string one of them, and even perhaps complete a second set. We'll see.
The Eye ... I keep reaching to clean the glasses I'm not wearing. The floater has shrunk and thinned hour by hour, but apparently part of what it's doing is dissipating into tiny droplets or fragments that are becoming more and more uniformly distributed throughout what should be the clear gel of the vitreous.
What I see through that eye is the world with normal acuity, except for an increasingly uniform cloud of gray-rimmed water droplets. Probably, the doctor says, this is the blood from the initial bleed. Probably, the doctor says, the body is preparing to re-absorb it, first breaking it mechanically into small fragments as the vitreous moves (as I move my eye). Probably, in other words, this is fine. Likely within the next week or two it will clear. Right now, though, I don't much like it.
Autumn ...
The weather ... the light continues so gray it's becoming disturbing. Rain everywhere, which is okay, but the grayness ... can't we have some light?
Then, anniversaries and resonances -- my Mom's death on the 23rd, several years ago ... and then on the 24th something happens to my right eye. For most of her life my Mom would often remark that her "right eye was always the weakest" and that it was "the one things happened to." I don't need to continue that pattern. I don't like this timing -- is there a message for me? Since I feel like I don't want to hear it, I need to ask: is there a message I'm missing or ignoring?
Now gatherings and partings -- I'm gearing up for Thanksgiving. At the moment it looks like we'll have about 18 sleepover family and probably 30 or 35 for Dinner On the Day ... which will be marvelous and also a lot to do. Everyone will pitch in with everything, so it won't be a burden. The two exceptions are my choice. I learned long ago never to let anybody empty the dishwasher who doesn't live here -- they're bound to put something away where none of us inmates can find it. And the sheets and towels will get done after they all leave.
But as soon as the wonderful party is over and the cleanup complete, I need to pack up the car and be ready to drive to Florida and move to the bigger boat and get ready for big major travel -- maybe Guatemala? -- on a boat so big I can't imagine sailing her alone. A boat I've only been on one inland motoring trip with. (I see I'm apprehensive, but this is totally unnecessary -- it's just a product of unfamiliarity. Probably there's more to talk about, about the boat. But at the moment I'm focused on parting.)
I get to leave behind my covensisters, my CUUPS chapter, my ties to congregants and neighbors and family here. I get to leave behind the woods, the land, even the car I like driving. Not to mention the Cat that I've been missing since the arrival of Dog, who make take another two weeks to forgive me now that the Dog is gone, and will then be properly furious when I disappear. I get to leave behind my loom (at least, unless I decide to take it with me in case of shore space to work in). The piano, my Altar ... I'm noticing I'm not happy about this. I can always come back for a visit, can't I? I'll be back in April anyway, won't I?
So ... strange times.