keyless

The laptop and her girl were together again, alive and whirring on, but it wasn't the same as before.

While Vaio's computer was just as good as it always was, and the data recovery had gone fine, she'd lost her keyboard for good. Now in place of those boxy little letters and symbols there was a big gaping metal rectangle, and in the middle a hole that let you see right into her guts.

Pablo, the computer guy, had taped it up neatly with cardboard and bubblewrap, cutting a little hole over the fan to let the air in. He said the battery wasn't as good as it had been either. But just before they left the shop he said, 'You should keep this computer. It's still very good. Don't replace it til you have to.'

Although they should have been bubbling over with things to say, sites to visit, pictures to express, neither were very communicative. Vaio didn't have a keyboard anymore, and Girl didn't know how to surf the net very long without one. What was the point if you couldn't write emails or even enter your password? And besides, she'd been getting on very well with a pen and paper while Vaio was away, and busy cooking two meals a day from scratch. So Vaio stayed in her case on the table, not moving at all from where she'd been set two days ago on her return home, while Girl sat writing on the couch a few feet away.

One day, a man with a ponytail at Girl's work will find an old keyboard that they can use externally, sort of a hardware colostomy. It will work perfectly well for years, but it won't be nearly so elegant. They won't be able to go to cafes anymore, or airport pubs, and will always need to stay close to home in case the battery runs out of juice.

The biggest dream, the one that both Vaio and Girl are hoping for, is that Pablo will find a keyboard with one of his other contacts. You can't just buy them from Sony, the brand-dealing bastard. They expect you to buy these beautiful machines, get to know them, love them, and then when they still work perfectly well, trade them in for a newer shinier model. The minute they get a bit dusty you toss them out.

The only hope, and its a cruel one, is to wait for some other Vaio to have hard drive failure, and then harvest its still clicking springy keyboard for your own. This could take months, but Pablo has promised to keep trying. He has a softspot for Vaio, Girl thinks.

Hopefully, Ponytail will come through today at work. Until then, Girl will scratch away with her pen and Vaio will do nothing, both of them pretending not to think of each other.

The Bride carried a Weenie Stick

'You rock!' said the Lady with all the Bounce when i told her i was going to her shotgun-golfclub-weeniestick-bigwhitedress-89bridesmaid wedding.

'Yee-haw!' I replied, resolving to check my itinerary well in advance and confirm that i really was going on:

Monday, the 31st of July (arriving in Calgary at 12:10 pm)

and staying until Monday, the 7th of August ( leaving Calgary at 5:25pm)

making sure to pack a pretty party dress, along with a pair of painted-on jeans and shitkickers.

That shouldn't be too much trouble. After all i only have to show up and have a good time with the rest of the Thomson/Bennett/Hornby/Iden Clan. I don't have to worry about passing vet school exams while drugged up on Sudafed, birthing lambs for two weeks, forgetting I'm going home at all until 7 hours before i need to be at the airport, not inviting any of my future husband's family to the wedding (by mistake) , my future husband neglecting to ask for time off from work, or fitting into the most perfect (but incredibly shrinking) dress in the world on the big day.

Nope, not me.
'Pour the rye', said the adventurous and incredibly cosmopolitan spinster. 'I'm on my way.'

square holes

Sniff. I feel lost and confused about what to do with myself when i get up in the morning. Not sleeping well. kind of grouchy and de-centred.

Sony Vaio is in the laptop centre right now. they're running tests but refuse to give me hope. Just a single drop of wine, they say, could kill her.

If only i'd taken out life insurance. If only I'd thought to back her up. If only i'd spent more time with her when i had the chance.

laptops don't like red wine

My computer has some kind of horrible hangover or allergy to alcohol. I would bet it's the latter as the plastic champagne flute I knocked over it last night was hardly enough to justify the excessive wailing and screaming this morning. It was closed so i thought it was safe, but this morning when i turned it on, rather than her little Sony Vaio song, she emitted an ear-piercing pulsing siren and flashed her little lights until i turned her off.

I think this is a good sign though. She's not trying to pretend she's fine when she's not, bravely soldiering on with its daily tasks while crying on the inside. And really that's probably best when the cause is alcohol.

You can fake it, get the points for going in, not waste a sick day, but are you really at your best? No. You're crap. No attention span, shakes and shivers, headache, nausea, self-pity, an intense desire to lie down on the floor of the toilet. This is not the time for making important decisions upon which other people must hinge subsequent decisions. And there's no point being creative without the power of reason, else how can you tell when you've had a good idea or not. Unless your company is really into pothead personal insights, it's probably not a good idea to present a new campaign on such a day.

That's why i'm so proud of little Vaio. Even though she must realize she's upsetting me by making loud offensive noises and refusing to open up, she's courageously admitting a personal failing so that i don't carry on thinking everything is fine when it isn't.

And if you're f***ed, i always think you're a little bit less f***ed if you know it.

Goals

I've just had a two hour session of goal setting with my life coach. I'm a bit of a trial to the Lady i think, because i keep insisting that what i want is a plan - the goal is a plan. But she keeps trying to convince me that we're making the plan, what i need to know is what i want the plan for. So I have three things i need to figure out:

1. Canada
How will i know when its time to go and how will i know when i'm there. I'm supposed to think of something, some place, some smell, some feeling that will tell me, aha! I'm here in the right place doing what i want.

2. What will make me feel focused now, every day, and doing what i want.
Is it writing for 2 hours every day, or doing something creative every day?

3. Fun/Friends
This was a shocker, because i thought the problem was that i was focussing too much on fun and friends, but the lady thinks i'm in danger of becoming insular. And i have to admit she's right. I'm not doing what i want to do professionally, but i'm not having that much fun either. I'm not allowing fun until i do the other things first. So i need some balance.

I need to suck the marrow out of the funny bone of edinburgh.

children and intoxicants

Last night after not seeing a movie about smoking where nobody smokes, i bought a bottle of wine from an eight-year-old and then went home to smoke.

I don't know if this is within the law or not, or if it isn't then who was breaking it - him or me? I don't think it should be me. I just wanted the wine. I didn't particularly set out to buy it from child. He had the wine, i had the money; it was an open-market exchange.

He was very officious about the whole thing, much less self-conscious than me, and obviously much more experienced in the ways of commerce, even at that tender age.

Not having any cash, as usual, i asked if he would take a card. Yes, but there would be a 50 pence charge. 50 cents? i said, having misheard him. 'Pence,' he said with a sigh, disdainfully as only 8-year-olds can when they hear grown-ups blithering inexcusable idiocies. Children can be so cruel.

He rang up my purchase of a bottle of red wine and ...I dread to say...tampons, and then told me very sternly and enunciating very clearly for my obvious problems understanding commercial transactions, 'Put...in...your...pin...number.'

I did as i was told.

Am i encouraging child labour? Under age drinking? The menstrual cycles of a minor?

Medusa files

I'm still struggling to get much done in the evenings. There are too many visions of sugarplums dancing in my head. It's so difficult not to indulge yourself thinking about things that make you happy.

The best thing i did last night was 30 minutes of writing, 30 minutes of research and many hours of thinking about it. The writing part was quite fun and i have to remember that it is fun, and not a scary trial. Nothing is really, once you're doing it.

This is my research from last night on Medusa. I like this kids version, it makes me laugh. It's so simple but actually quite true. Making stories kid-friendly isn't really about dumbing them down, but getting rid of all the unneccessary bits. Although, i'm not sure if Medusa was really so in love with said boyfriend. He seemed to get off quite free in the whole affair.

So then to balance things out, i found this thesis on Medusa and how she is treated in literature from a feminist perspective. Don't be frightened. It's not a radical position, but it does take into account the dichotomies between male and female, and looks at who is taking power from who.

There's really two stories in both, because Medusa is quite sympathetic as a character because her punishment was seriously excessive, and she was condemned to loneliness and death just for being too pretty. But then Perseus isn't really a bad guy either. He was trying to rescue his mother, and he needed the Gorgon's head to do that. And anyway it was that bitch Athena who gave him the mirrored shield anyway - the same one who had cursed Medusa with snake-hair and a look of death in the first place. Can't she just leave the poor girl alone?

At best, all she did was flaunt her pretty hair about in Athena's temple. At worst, she got raped there. Where's the sisterhood?

pondering polygamy

I've been thinking about polygamy all morning.

Outside of religious custom, I just don't see what the advantages are for anyone involved. The wives only get husband on a rota every few days, and have to discuss all their personal troubles with money, cars, kids with the other wives. And the husband is run ragged trying to please everyone and trying to look after all those kids. He gets sex with multiple women, but he's so stressed out with all the daily stuff, he can't keep up with the night time romps, especially when each wife is all fresh and ready to see him after her two nights off. Beyond readily available babysitters, what can be the advantage?

This is all from the new HBO show, Big Love, so it might not have a great deal of connection with how actual polygamous families live. In this one, the oldest wife is the most together - she's confident, has a career, organizes everything in the family and doesn't seem particularly jealous of the other wives, probably because she's got other things going for her.

But the other two are young and desperate for their husband's attention. They manipulate and whine and get upset, as you would, if you could only have your new husband on a rota. So why would they want to do that? And if the first wife, the Boss Lady, has everything going for her, why would she want the hassle of these extra wives?

And husband is running himself ragged with a viagra dependency trying to please everyone.

It might work in a closed society of Mormons perhaps. And i'm willing to believe that in other cultures, where there is a tradition behind it, it might possibly work. I'm not sure the wives would be happy then either, but maybe they are. I don't know enough about it.

But the way they've got it set up on the show, everyone is living this modern life in some city in Utah, and they've all chosen to live this way. I just don't see it.

Also, is it possible that a Mormon girl could get away with saying things like ' I think chastity takes courage,' or 'what church activities could you take part in?' to her workmates at the Dairy Queen without being totally ostrasized or ridiculed? Is that TV or is that just Utah? You certainly couldn't get away with it at the Dairy Queens i know.

Football

Everyone's gone mad for football here including my work. The football fans have talked us all into participating in a football pool. It's only £5 but you have to predict the scores for all 30 some games. I have no idea what i'm doing, but using the BBC score sheet as a guide.

It's quite good for me really, since now i'll have some interest in the games which are unavoidable for the next few weeks. Everyone i know has their lives planned out around their favourite teams so if i want to see anyone it will have to be in the pub amongst the shouting hordes. Hopefully, I can avoid having beer thrown at me. Last time, Mom was visiting and when i took her to the Park bar to watch, some excitable Scottish fans flung their pints across the room, where it hit the back wall and splashed all over Mom and her jacket. She took it quite well, a cultural experience, especially enjoying the encouraging songs of the fans, 'The referee's a wanker, the referee's a wanker...la la la'.