Digi-Scene

Age 1: Threw my bottle of milk from the crib, refusing to drink milk in that way anymore. I preferred a shot glass.

Age 2: My sister is born. Thus begins a decade of matching outfits and haircuts (I'm the one in the photos who is never wearing pink).

Age 3: Had my tonsils removed. Learned that complaining loudly that my throat hurt would get me Grandpa's sympathy and lots of ice cream.

Age 4: I still believe in Santa Claus even though I recognize my Mom's handwriting on the note "he" left with the new handmade Barbie clothes. I didn't consider that being gullible, I considered it being pragmatic.

Age 5: Thanks to Mom this is the last time I had long hair until I was in my 40's. Hint: Mia Farrow may have looked really sophisticated in that pixie haircut, but I had lost my front teeth and I had freckles. I didn't look sophisticated, I looked like a little boy.

Age 6: For my birthday, I received a purple bicycle with long handlebars and a banana seat. My parents didn't see me for years after that. Freedom!

Age 7: Fito gave me a ring and became my boyfriend. I broke the ring when I used it to play hopscotch. We broke up after recess.

Age 8: Got baptized. Having never seen a baptism, I was concerned that I would drown as I thought that Dad would say the prayer while I was under water and I knew how long my Dad's prayers could be.

Age 9: Didn't learn a damn thing in school during this year. Wait, I did learn that teachers can be extremely crappy at their job and nobody believes little kids when they tell you that.

Age 10: I wrote an essay for Mrs. Taggert that forever changed my perception of myself. Thank you Mrs. Taggert for recognizing that little girl and her feelings.

*The idea for this post came from Maggie Mason's blog.

I bought a brand new iPod a few weeks ago (a sweet 80GB iPod classic) and I'm having a devil of time figuring out how to get all of my music from the iTunes on my two computers onto the iPod. Long story short, whenever I sync with my work computer's iTunes, it wipes out the songs from my home computer. I want to MERGE the two, not overwrite them. Why isn't merge an option? I'm sure this is something simple but I can't seem to figure it out.

This is probably my karmaic come-uppance for laughing at Boni and his cell phone issues...

Thankfully the unseasonably warm weather that San Diego has been experiencing lately has finally broken. I can now rely on just having the windows open to cool off the apartment. However, I'm dreading getting the SDG&E (San Diego Gas & Electric) bill this month after having run the air conditioning for nearly 3 weeks straight. I may have to resort to illegal activity in order to raise the funds to pay it off.

So please, if you have any ideas for lucrative illegal activities, go ahead and send them my way. And yes, my comments accept anonymous submissions!

Boni and I went to see the Padres play the Dodgers last weekend. I had been looking forward to that game for a lonnnnggg time and just wanted the Padres to beat the Dodgers so bad I could taste it. And to me the taste was sweet, like something from Extraordinary Desserts.

Unfortunately because of San Diego's proximity to LA, we get invaded with Dodger fans coming to OUR ballpark. Blech! And sure enough an entire family of Dodger fans sat next to Boni and I.

As a matter of fact, there were about 8 of them and Boni and I had our 2 seats right in the middle of them. Dodger blue to the left of us, Dodger blue to the right of us, we were surrounded. But then the matriarch of this clan (think of Peg Bundy as a baseball fan) asked us if we would mind changing seats with them so they could all sit together.

Well, as a matter of fact I DID mind. Boni and I very specifically buy the seats we do so we can sit right on the first base line and have a clear field of vision from first to second base. So I told her that without any hint of an apology. She had the nerve to be miffed at me! I ignored her and proceeded to scream my head off and enjoy myself immensely as we soundly defeated those silly Dodgers.

I hope her glass of white wine every inning helped dull the pain for her...

People that know me are aghast when I tell them that I am still on a dial-up internet connection at home.

"But...but...you have a job working on the internet! How can you do that?"

Very simple. By not having a fast connection at home, I am not in the least bit tempted to do more work when I get home. I make it as painful as possible for myself so that I NEVER bring work home.

Not so crazy anymore is it?