Saturday, July 31, 2004
Going overboard
I'm making up for lost blogging time. So I'm going a little overboard here with the multiple blog posts in one day, but I had to take a break from my psycho book and I already cleaned the kitchen... kinda. And the crosswords aren't working well for me today. I feel totally helpful in the "I'm sitting on my fat ass and not doing anything" kind of way.
Not that anyone wants to know this, but I'll put it in a post anyways. To prove that I'm back to committing heinous electronic gadget karma crimes. I fixed my wireless woes. And by fixed I mean I turned off the authentication so that it stops dropping me. Not my ideal fix, but it is less frustrating. And still encrypted. I still haven't found the neighbor with the connection, but I swear, there will be hanging by toes when or if I ever do find him.
It's story time. Picture a chubby little platinum blonde girl, somewhere around the age of 5 or so. Imagine she's running around in her backyard with her two brothers and collecting rocks for them. The brothers - the rather round-ish one about the age of 8 with copper red hair and the other, skinny as a bean pole, about the age of 11 with platinum blonde hair. They're throwing rocks over the fence at passing cars. To pass the time, right? It's summer, or at least pretty warm, sunny, not very many clouds in the sky.
Now collecting rocks was a pretty good chore for the girl. Not too hard, considering there was a playground at the back corner of the yard with zillions of little pebbles and a few good throwing rocks as "cushion" should a child fall from the playground swings. And collecting rocks kept her out of trouble, as she wasn't the one throwing rocks at the cars driving by the other side of the fence. It was a fun enough game for the three of them. Until, *CLANK*. Bullseye. That was a windshield. The three kids pause what they're doing, like statues. Tires screech, the car halts. The whine from the engine of a car going in reverse at high speeds. "Uh oh. Get inside!"
Blonde, copper red, and blonde all run giggling and snorting into the house and calmly and quietly separate. Each to their rooms.
Not more than 5 minutes later after the doorbell rings and there's a loud man screaming at my mother, there's the mother's scream for the kids to come to the front door. Uh oh. We're made to apologize to the man individually and then go look at his windshield. It looked like a spider web. Ooops. Did we do that?
To quell the rock throwing desires, we learned how to skip rocks on the pool's surface for the rest of the summer. Which was far less exciting than throwing them over the fence at passing cars.
My record was 6 skips that year. I wonder if I can still do that...
Not that anyone wants to know this, but I'll put it in a post anyways. To prove that I'm back to committing heinous electronic gadget karma crimes. I fixed my wireless woes. And by fixed I mean I turned off the authentication so that it stops dropping me. Not my ideal fix, but it is less frustrating. And still encrypted. I still haven't found the neighbor with the connection, but I swear, there will be hanging by toes when or if I ever do find him.
It's story time. Picture a chubby little platinum blonde girl, somewhere around the age of 5 or so. Imagine she's running around in her backyard with her two brothers and collecting rocks for them. The brothers - the rather round-ish one about the age of 8 with copper red hair and the other, skinny as a bean pole, about the age of 11 with platinum blonde hair. They're throwing rocks over the fence at passing cars. To pass the time, right? It's summer, or at least pretty warm, sunny, not very many clouds in the sky.
Now collecting rocks was a pretty good chore for the girl. Not too hard, considering there was a playground at the back corner of the yard with zillions of little pebbles and a few good throwing rocks as "cushion" should a child fall from the playground swings. And collecting rocks kept her out of trouble, as she wasn't the one throwing rocks at the cars driving by the other side of the fence. It was a fun enough game for the three of them. Until, *CLANK*. Bullseye. That was a windshield. The three kids pause what they're doing, like statues. Tires screech, the car halts. The whine from the engine of a car going in reverse at high speeds. "Uh oh. Get inside!"
Blonde, copper red, and blonde all run giggling and snorting into the house and calmly and quietly separate. Each to their rooms.
Not more than 5 minutes later after the doorbell rings and there's a loud man screaming at my mother, there's the mother's scream for the kids to come to the front door. Uh oh. We're made to apologize to the man individually and then go look at his windshield. It looked like a spider web. Ooops. Did we do that?
To quell the rock throwing desires, we learned how to skip rocks on the pool's surface for the rest of the summer. Which was far less exciting than throwing them over the fence at passing cars.
My record was 6 skips that year. I wonder if I can still do that...
notes:
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