The most recent crisis at House of Pound Head Here passed without any loss of life, though it was a near thing. I am generally pretty easy going but when I do blow I BLOW. It was so much fun to hear all the eggshells crunching under everyone’s feet. Even the boyfriend’s watching his P’s and Q’s for the moment. I suspect the glowing red eyes, steam from the ears and bared fangs might’ve finally clued him in.
Last night my antiquated backup computer froze up and at reboot it… wouldn’t. The dreaded “No Operating System Found” played Pac-Man with my c. 1999 computer and it was declared officially DOA. My external hard drive with all the stuff backed up to it was somewhere between marginal and gone, too. Then this morning I was heading out to work a day’s OT and the community coffee machine committed suicide, as well. I don’t drink coffee but G and the daughter were both having the caffeine DT’s by this point. My choices came down to pointing and laughing (sorely tempting, I must admit) or making a run to Target before work, or getting them coffee from Mickey D’s down the street. We opted for #3 this morning given my limited time, and I sprung for a new coffee maker from Wally World on the way home tonight.
Nothing like unexpected expenses, eh?
I could afford to be magnanimous because G spent the day figuring out what the heck was going on with this ‘puter and he actually got it going again. Not only that, but one of our thrift store “I’ll take a chance on it” deals panned out in a HUGE way. Given how many times we’ve both lost computers and hard drives, G insisted on an external hard drive each for backups. Unfortunately the eBay find I’d been using was a piece ‘o you-know-what and was increasingly unreliable, to the point I pretty much didn’t see any point trying to do backups. (And as mentioned, it apparently also died in transition with everything else.) But during our thrift store run yesterday G picked up an external setup, case and all, for which he paid $5. (For those who actually want to know – it was $5 he himself earned.) We figured the drive itself was probably minuscule, but G checked the case connections and they were sound. If it turned out to be a good case, we’d scoot in one of our existing hard drives and voila! Back in business.
A funny thing happened on the way to a $5 teeny tiny maybe-working-maybe-not external hard drive. It works flawlessly AND the drive turned out to be 400GB – several times the size of my outmoded fill-in machine. Plus we’d backed up everything in duplicate and triplicate and quadruplicate, so no data packets lost their lives in the great computer crashes of 2011. G recently setup automatic backups to my stuff so there was less likelihood of it going down the big swirly, which has happened a few times in the past, and we’ve got offsite backup just in case, too. Plus I have a mini external, 20GB hard drive I won from work a while back. Think one of those little thumb drives on steroids: it’s about the width and height of a deck of cards and maybe a quarter of an inch thick. The life-and-death stuff’s copied there too.
Two stories of bulges in the news today. Fitness dude Jack LaLanne passed away. He was 96. The man was built like some kind of brick wall into his 80’s. I remember watching him when I was a kid, kind of like ogling a circus sideshow. I liked the principle of what he was doing but let’s face it – for most of us the closest we got to his exercise routine was a floundering and sputtering run of swim lessons at the Y.
The second story was about a different kind of bulge, this one nominally scary. Yellowstone Park, as I imagine y’all know, is a humongous whompin’ volcano, one of the biggest anywhere in the world. The sucker’s still alive and heaving – 10 inches upward elevation in portions of its caldera over the past few years. (Presumably this was a measured with actual instruments rather than a man’s estimation. We all know how THOSE go.) Scientists are all like, “Well HE said it was gonna blow,” and other scientists were like, “Well it’s all just flexing its muscles and showing off, unh-huh. He’s wrong, beyotch!” So basically – this monster volcano that could take out the entire western hemisphere with one nice big belch is sitting there scratching its belly and trying to figure out when’s the proper time to let ‘er rip.
Of course it’s been a while – on the order of hundreds of thousands of years, if not millions – since Yellowstone threw a proper tantrum. But if the Greek philosophers got it right, Atlantis got into a smackdown with a lesser volcano and lost, so hey – probably time to move to Norway.
Wait, again. I forgot about Eyjafjallajökull in Iceland.
Well darn. There’s always Australia. I’ll ask Miss Hiss if there’s room in the ark. (Seriously – here’s hoping and praying Miss Hiss and family and friends are safe and well. The flooding in Queensland is beyond horrendous.) Okay, so Australia’s out; Russia’s fine if you like glowing in the dark. That leaves Africa or the Middle East or China… err, no thank you. Each of those comes with its OWN set of issues.
So yeah – guess I’ll hang out with my computer and let Yellowstone enjoy it’s beer and TV.
Or given the hour, more likely lurch into bed. The rest of my body’s been reasonably cooperative lately. Sadly I wrenched the holy heck out of my knee yesterday while grabbing a couple of bags of groceries from the car and despite knee braces and meds it’s not being very kind to me. G growled and reminded me how many times he’d insisted I let him do any loading and unloading of the car. Yellowstone’s not the only thing flexing its muscles. G’s actually GOOD about that and always has been – if he had his way I’d never carry anything to or from the vehicle. He’s not utterly without training!