Archive for August, 2012

I have just recuperated from a scare.  My netbook wouldn’t connect to the Internet.  Maybe I wasn’t so traumatized because I looked at the clock and thought, okay I can home now.  Must be the start of school.  I’m too tired to panic properly.

As you can see, I got it working again.  I went back to an earlier version of windows and that seemed to do the trick, but with technology you never know.  Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.  Ever had someone come to look at your computer and your problem has mysteriously vanished and you feel like an idiot?  This could be like that.  Except without the feeling like an idiot.

And somehow that reminded me that I need to go get milk from Bi-Lo.  Let’s see if I remember that when I leave the library.

School has started and kids are back.  Today was their third day.  I have making IDs.  What fun.  IT has blocked everything under the sun including blogs and forums and non school email. This plays havoc with trying to use tech forums to troubleshoot and reading library and teacher blogs I can incorporate into lessons.

This is basically it for today.  I read an article of interest only don’t remember who wrote it.  That might be my next post.  The article, I mean, not that I can’t remember things.


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Over the weekend I went to Wal-Mart and Target both times passing through the school supply zones.  Notebooks.  Hundreds of notebooks and so many on sale:  red ones, blue ones, Hello Kitty ones, Justin Bieber ones.  I wanted to buy some.  OK, so not the Justin Bieber ones, but the Hello Kitty looked cute and there were others that were nice.

But no.  I cannot, I must not, buy another notebook.  I have so many at home, but they are so nice.  All that lined paper is itching to be written on.  All those stories that can fill those pages.  How I lusted to buy a notebook, a wonderful, beautiful notebook.

Somehow I managed to escape without buying any.  I think they hold some type of power over me because whenever I pass the notebook aisle my eyes are drawn to them luring me with their come hither covers.  That’s how I ended up with a rock and roll bedecked notebook and one with part of a motorcycle on it artfully draped across the front.  I’ll use that one for something special, I told myself.  Surprisingly I did manage to write a good story in that one, something with plenty of action.

Next Saturday I will be going to Office Depot.  It’s their teacher appreciation day and I want to be appreciated.  There will be more notebooks there.  I must think of the pile I have.  I must resist temptation.

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Thank you for the card. Tis bonny! I hope your mobile still works after the twins got their hooves on it. They are the ones who probably changed your ring tones. Good thing only Fat Malcolm and Thistle heard them. Steenie would have told everyone by now. They, the twins, used the phone to text me that you were going to Skype me. Imagine my disappointment when instead of you, I see their nosy faces.

What are you naughty lambs up to now?

Angus. Angus. Angus. Angus. Angus. Angus. Angus. Angus. Angus. Angus. Angus. Angus. Angus. Angus.

One hoof on the delete key.

Nay, Angus.

We want to wish you a happy birthday.

Yes, a happy birthday.

Happy Birthday back to you, now go away. I have important things to do.

Nay, Angus.

We want to see the cake.

Aye, the crumbly cake.

They have their faces pressed against the camera, their eyes going this way and that, hoovering anything they can with them.

Then you’ll be gone?


Aye, we will.”

I go get the blackberry crumble, you know, the one Pawnee Kitty baked for me in her little outdoor oven. I half expect the twins to have squeezed through the Internet and be roaming around the room, picking up this and that with their muddy hooves and making a mess. When I come back all I see are four eyes and their noses. It was quite disturbing.

Here. Me blackberry crumble.”



Tis bonney!”

Is it tasty?”

Very.I take a bit and eat it with my mouth open. Of course they enjoy it, the rude lambs they are.  “Now be off with you. I have things to do.”

But Angus!


I disconnect. And now I must disconnect with you, but I shall do so nicely with greetings from the colonies.

Your friend

Angus. McSheep.

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