I’ve been very curious about what the new Christo work in Central Park’s going to look like. The pictures on Wired were really crummy. Much better previews are here.

Been busy with a lot of repair work this week. A college girl’s laptop I worked on today had over 150 bits of spyware on her poor laptop. Yikes. Needless to say I got rid of all that shit. I also noticed her antivirus program wasn’t activated, so I fixed that too. She basically paid for me to get a proper attache for my CDs and repair stuff that I haul with me…until today, I’d been schlepping everything around in a crumpled Trader Joe’s bag. (Ha, I can just picture a client slamming their door in my face, mumbling something about how they didn’t need any Two-Buck Chuck…if you’re not a Trader Joe’s regular you’re not going to get that joke, sorry). So I have my new bag, with a great big Firefox sticker over the stupid logo on the front. Wow, lookit me, I’m all official and stuff.

It’s a pretty nice gig dealing with both computer hardware and website design, because just when I get totally sick of the one thing I can go start work on the other. I find both halves equally stressful and thrilling. They pay well, anyway.

I also got my hair done today for the first time in probably six months. I tried a stylist that Miss C recommended, and I think she was pretty good, though I wish she hadn’t done that trip of leaving half an inch of my roots as is. That’s exactly where I wanted the blonde, dammit. I’ve had a couple of stylists do this and it’s really annoying to see all that beautiful color…and then that 1/2 chunk of brown at the roots. Maybe I should just give up and accept that my hair has decided it’s going to turn brown, like my father’s. Sigh. But I’m not sure if I’m ready for that, because…

In four days I will be thirty. It feels like a good age to be. When I think about what a giant ball of stress and restlessness and anger I was in my early twenties, I wonder why my husband (or anyone) even put up with me.

Speaking of that husband, we still have not made any plans for Valentine’s Day. In the last few years I have come to regard it as mostly a marketing holiday, something to be celebrated by Hallmark and couples with no kids. Yawn. Bruce feels about the same. Cyncial bastards, that’s us. I think he might want to do something for my birthday though, so here’s a big hint: Blue. Lots of Drinking. Designated Driver. Me, Being Allowed to Sleep It Off the Next Morning.

Wheeeee!

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Links! Links!

How to Talk to a Fool (If You Really Must)

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