Old Friends

People An old friend left a comment. It was AuntieGrav who resides down the road at the old Grav house at http://auntiegrav.blogspot.com/ I used to see a lot more people. When I purchased my new computer, She-who-must-be-obeyed established temporal limits on how long I could have the old one set up on the kitchen table, trying to dissect data out of it into the new VISTA machine now known as Norma Desmond, who had been a perfectly wonderful ingenue when she was new to the house. However, since she has become accustomed to her surroundings, she has developed a rather peremptory attitude and insists that the local folk do not disturb her too much, leave the drapes drawn until noon, have breakfast at 2:00 P.M., and dine at 10:00 with oodles of champagne! I mean the whole bloody thing is way too Sunset Boulevard for my tastes. And I think I mentioned that she has totally captivated that Erich von Stroheim of an Internet Gateway she calls "Max". Really. Just when I settle in and wish to read or listen to the old BBC, up pops one of her old silent features: Getting to Know Your New Computer! starring HP aka. Norma Desmond. And as the lights go down and the flicker of the 24 frames per sec lulls me into slumber, I hear her voice: " Are you ready for my disk clean up, Mr. De Mille? " and like a threadbare Theda Bara ( "threadbare Theda Bara" makes no sense. I just couldn't resist it.) she vamps from her cabinet to walk among the living. Anyhow, what I meant to say was I did not get all my favorites transferred to Norma. Spelling I am looking for lexicographers who will stage a coup and establish the millenium: all words will be acceptable as they are typed!! the first time! Thius... Thus, that is, we shall not have to edit out "compnay" for "company" and "whoi" for "who" and the like. I mean my typing looks like some juvenile exercise of 1,000 monkeys at 1,000 typewriters working out things according to George Bernard Shaw's revolutionary orthographic conventions. wOULDN'T IT BE SO MUCH EASIER/ Paying Attention When it is cold like it is today, 17 degrees F the high, I set the thermostat at a balmy 66 degrees and bundle up. I usually wear a hood. Today I am wearing my deerstalker hat. It's light and warm and holmesian and watsonian and mrs-hudsonian. The hat was custom made in Ireland by Hanna Hats of Donegal, Ltd., Donegal Town, Ireland, Dry Clean Only. She-who-and so on says I do not pay close enough attention to her. The hat is her proof. I say nonsense. I say she does so many odd things that I have become inured to her eccentricities, serendipitous or planned. The deerstalker was a gift from her. Following so far? Now, if you know anything about custom made hats, you know one does not just go up to a hatter with a sign saying " In this style 10 / 6 " and order a topper. You have to have your head measured. And sometimes they want to record the declivities and concavities of your cranium with all the phrenological frenzy of Cesare Lombroso. Really. I kid you not. Well, She-who-must-be-obeyed was able to waltz into the den where I sat at the computer screen, take out a seamstress' tape and measure my head 2 or 3 times, mumble to herself, take notes, express amazement, then walk off quite loudly. I said nothing. I wasn't actually quite aware of anything...out of the ordinary, if you catch my drift. When the deerstalker came for Xmas, I was thrilled. "And you had no idea?" she said. "No...?" "Even when I was measuring your head?" she added. "Ooohhhh....." I said. What can one say at this juncture? I was sort of hoping Bing Crosby would pop out of the pantry and buss a maid on the cheek, giving me a Bob Hope way to wind things up. No luck. Good hat.