Daddy and I go, a lot. Mom even goes some. When we were little, we flew ourselves in. Now we just drive in. This year, we took my engineer husband for his first trip.

Oshkosh? Try the EAA Airshow – the biggest, coolest, best airshow with old war airplanes for dad, cool vintage cropdusters for me, the fly mall for mom and this year, Geoff discovered the joy of homebuilt aircraft. (“We’ll have to change our plan of attack and get Geoff moving or we won’t see more than 1/10th of the show…”)

My favorite was a gilder with an electric motor that pops out of the back to get it up to altitude. Less L:D than some gliders I’ve seen, but elegant and practical for people without a tow plane. The competition to this was the glider with a small jet that popped up out of the back. Seems like a neater solution, but also, I think louder. And glider is all about floating peacefully around the air.

The Cub dream? Well, Geoff doesn’t fit. I managed to get him into one of the re-made cubs that had a wider cabin, but his legs were still scrunched up under the controls. Will have to find another plane that is bigger but has equal vintage coolness to dream about…

The goal, Charleston Harbor. Between myself and being on the boat, a wedding shower.

Instead of leaving the night before (at 11pm by the time we get the boat together) we opt to leave the following morning. So at 10am, we’re only about a mile away from home when I here a huge POP and glance in the mirror to see that the boat trailer tire on my side has completely exploded, knocking off the guide rail and part of the support for the boat. Geoff pulls the truck over and unhitches the boat and leaves it stranded on a dirt road while we race back to town to buy a spare tire. One of these days, I’ll tell the story of how we ended up with two very bad tires on the trailer in the first place, but for now, suffice to say, we had two very bad tires and even when the first one was replaced, I was convinced the whole trip down the second one would blow.

Once the shower was over, I hurried back to Geoff and the boat. Geoff had gotten two new good tires to put on the trailer and found some friends of his to go sailing with us.

“Those aren’t sailing shoes!” was the first thing I heard walking in the door. No, I’d better change in a hurry as everyone is ready to go on a sunset cruise! We finally got the boat set up and ready to launch, only to be unable to start the motor (something Geoff always tests after being stuck on a lake once with neither power nor wind). After a fouled sparkplug is scraped, we get onto the water and out into the harbor. The weather is perfect, the wind is blowing lightly and the sun is just starting to sink behind the clouds. A sunset cruise!

I’m running up the sails when all of a sudden the boat is wheeling around and Geoff is yelling at me to pull them down. I release the ties and with help manage to get the sails down, but not before its tipped on its side enough to send part of the door to the cabin which had been carelessly left (my fault) sitting on top of the hatch into the water.

We apparently needed more boat projects to work on – between replacing the door and fixing the trailer, this weekend seemed like it was going to be less about sailing and more about boat fixing (we had to stop three times on the way home to add grease to the hubs of the wheels).

Sunday, on a whim, we decided to put the boat into the lake and sail around a bit. I managed to fall asleep on the bow and woke up to find us halfway across the lake and Geoff contentedly sailing along. It was incredibly peaceful and nice, after all the stress this summer, to spend an afternoon doing nothing but relaxing, easy sailing. After Geoff turned the boat around, I sailed us home.

“It’s nice to see another sailboat on the lake,” we’re hailed from a few yards across the water as a yellow Catalina pulls in next to us. While it may be a perfect day for sailing, “power boats just go faster,” as a random kid on the dock informed me after I told him sailboats are a lot of work, but very peaceful. But I’m happy with that, I don’t need to go fast. I think its all about curling up in the shade of the genoa with an orange to peel and a nice steady breeze.

From my friend:

You’ll enjoy this story.. I had to explain to my sister that you are studying to be a lawyer and not a bartender, I …swear I don’t think she is related to me. LOL : )

Some days, sitting in class, I think perhaps studying to be a bartender might be more fun. Still a lot of memorization, sure, but the end result? Lots of good things to drink. As far as the (legal) bar exam goes, the end result? I’ll maybe get a job and become one of those people lots of jokes are made about. A lawyer and a doctor walk into a bar…

The worst part is taking notes…by hand. After typing everything for years, by the end of the morning my hands are cramping from all the writing. But it has to be done to get in shape for the actual bar. Two days of essays…all hand written.

So, back to studying (and googling lawyer jokes)…

“You wanna turn that off?”
“What?!”
“LOUD. OFF.”
“WHAT?”

I cover my ears and point at the remote-controlled boat sitting on the pavement, its motor running (after many failed starts). Geoff gets the picture and disconnects the fuel line. In a few seconds, the blade spins down to a stop.

“That’s idle speed,” he’s changing something about the boat and I can tell he’s about to start it back up again.
“Let’s take it to the lake Sunday,” I suggest.
“Don’t have the radio controls working yet. Come help me.”

Lately, I have become the official flashlight-holder and useful-set-of-small-hands for Geoffrey’s nighttime repair jobs. Admittedly, he’s largely been working on my car, but occasionally he’ll detour off onto one of his model toys, a bicycle, the pool pump or one of the boats. And since he does not generally get home until 7, he’s working in the dark by the time he’s changed and fed. This means flashlight holding is a large part of my duty.

“Want me to get dad out here to help?” Dad has been itching to play with Geoff’s remote-controlled models since he first saw them.
“No, he’ll tell me not to wake up the neighbors.” Geoff smiles then starts the engine again. I wait a bit while he fidgets with it.

“Ok, is it time to turn it off now?”
“What?”
“Boat OFF. Don’t wanna wake up the neighbors!”

Though honestly, I thin that any of the neighbors who came to investigate would probably be completely fascinated with the models. The same thing happened when Geoff and a little cousin of mine built a potato gun and took it out into a big field to test. The owner of the field came over to check out what they were doing and then hung around to fire the cannon. Boys.

Geoff didn’t believe I could do it, but I managed to get his entire storage shed into the back of the Uhaul. Tons of plastic tubs and boxes of books, bike tires and broken shelves – everything it takes a boy to get a guy through graduate school. We got it all loaded up and all home and unpacked into the garage and the trailer returned before it was even time for supper.

Sunday I left Geoff to go through all the stuff to decide what needed to be carted up to the attic and what could be sold. He ran into where I was folding laundry with some papers in his hand, excited to show me things from his past. Registration forms from bike races, grant proposals, engineering class notebooks filled with formulas and all the other paper saved from a college career where little was done digitally. Then of course came the toys; the remote controlled boat that “can go faster than a guy on a jet ski,” a mouse-shaped shooting target and a completely unopened sleeping bag.

But by far my favorite was when Geoff stuck his head around the corner of the shed where I was working wearing crazy circular sunglasses that made me burst out laughing.
“When were those last in style?” I ask as he grins at me.
“I don’t know. I got them in Florida when I was in college. I’m going to throw them away.”
“Oh no! Don’t do that! They’re too much fun!” He grins at me, the corners of his cheeks disappearing beneath the dark circles.
“When would I ever wear them again?”
“Next time we’re in Florida.”

The last exam completed. Papers turned in. What exactly am I supposed to do with myself tomorrow? Oh…yea…try to find a job. Then start studying for the bar. Fun summer coming up…aside from the studying.

So in reviewing my workload for the next month, it occurred to me that, while I have a huge amount of work for the next three weeks, I’m going to get an awful lot accomplished. I’m going to finish school. As in, all work done to graduate – all exams taken – all papers signed. No more school. That in itself makes me feel good. Moving is going to be a chore, but hopefully worthwhile. And maybe while I’m at it, I’ll remember to workout…

For a quick afternoon sail, Geoffrey and I took our little sunfish to the lake. We put in at the dock which was crowded with people out enjoying the sun and the first weekend you can comfortably get in the water. We had two cute little girls help us put the sailboat together.

“Is this a canoe?”
“No, its a sailboat.”
“Wow, this is my first time seeing a sailboat! When I grow up, I want a sailboat.”

We pushed off the dock and with the little bit of wind we had available, we sailed calmly across the lake and back. The little girls had confiscated our pirate flag and were waving it on the dock.

The sailboat always gets lots of comments, generally in the form of “I want one of those!”

But by far, the best comment of the afternoon came from some guys waterskiing by our boat. We could hear them clearly across the lake.

“Maaaan, is that one of them cat-a-ma-rans?”
“No man,” his friend makes himself sound very knowledgeable, “that’s called a Hobie Cat.” Totally seriously.

Geoffrey and I were snickering on our monohull not even remotely catamaran boat. We have a hobie cat. I guess if they’d seen that, they’d've thought it was a Hobie Cat too.

The following is from the owner’s manual for our Victoria 18.

2. Stepping the Mast – This is a two person job. No muscle is required, just some thinking. Let’s assume a male-female combination. No chauvinism intended here! Do it any-way you want, but for example we will use this combination.

a. Remove the pin from the tabernacle at the foot of the mast.
b. Place the female crew member on the Aft Deck, facing forward, just behind the travelor. The male crew member should be forward at the pulpit
c. Pick the mast up and move Aft with it. The female will be holding the mast over her head and moving it Aft. Go slowly as balance at this point becomes critical.
d. Position the Aft holes of the tabernacle plate on the mast so that they align with the Aft holes on the tabernackle deck plate located on the top of the cabin.
e. Insert the tabernackle pin. (NOTE:) A pair of pliers may be useful at this point to apply pressure to the pin. It may be necessary to move the mast from starboard to port to slightly facilitate lining up the pin.
f. The male crew member now moves to the Aft end of the cockpit and while standing on the seats, facing forward, removes the burden of the mast from his female counter part. At this point the female will move forward, checking starboard and port to assure the shrouds are clear of anything that might snag them when the mast is raised, and positions herself on the deck in front of the cabin
g. The male crew member will now walk forward, the mast overhead, raising it to its full up position.
h. The female will then attach the forstay to the bow plate. The forstay attaches to the second hole aft from the bow.

via: http://home.texoma.net/~jbwrenn/care.html

Geoff was hooting while he read this. I was amused. After all, as the “female crew member,” I do the work on the front of the boat for stepping the mast. But there’s no switching places in the middle – I have no problem putting in the pins. The only place I’m not quite strong enough is when raising the mainsail in a fair amount of wind I sometimes struggle to get it all the way up. But I can get it to about 98%, which means the boom is swinging over Geoff’s head (mostly).

Speaking of the boom, Geoff is having to repeatedly learn the hard way to watch out for it when he’s sitting on the back of the boat on the anchor locker steering. It’s gotten him in the head at least three times in the last month – thankfully not too hard. He always laughs it off (“they call it a boom for a reason”) so hopefully it isn’t slowly knocking the sense out of him. Ask me again after a couple years of marriage and I might give a different verdict.

This weekend, Geoffrey and I sailed down to Edisto Beach from the bridge over to the island. It took us about three hours to get there and having a destination makes the trip a totally different and much more of an adventure. Before we could even get the sails up, we ran across a dredging crew and had to circle the boat a few times until the barge moved over so we could pass. The barge looked like a crab using its anchor claws to crawl back and forth across the waterway.

We got out of the waterway and into the river and almost immediately hit rough water. The waves were not high, but were so close together that by the time we came over the peak of one, we were splashing down into the middle of another. Geoff cut the motor and I pulled up the sails and managed to get only a little wet. From then on, the sail into the sound was completely smooth and we glided along towards the ocean.

Suddenly, I heard a puff of air and then a dolphin jumped out of the water, right in front of me. I yelped and jumped for my camera, but the dolphins refused to let me catch more than a fin or tail.

They swam next to us through the sound, jumping next to the boat and criss-crossing underneath it. When we were getting close to the shallows, they would all get in front of the boat and start turning, showing us it was time to tack. They swam next to us, escorting us into the harbor, until it was time to lower the sails.

The next day as we were sailing out of the sound, I noticed several of the fins circling a couple in a kayak. Geoff turned the boat that direction and the dolphins jumped up and swam underneath our boat as well.

“Watch out,” Geoff called out to the kayakers, “they like small boats and in your boat, they’re likely to get playful and bump you.”

One dolphin had a jagged cut in his fin. That dolphin had apparently had to learn the hard way that while sailboats and kayaks are fun to play with, you’ve got to stay away from the power boats.

So I signed myself up for bar review…only to realize that the result of this is that I am no longer looking forward to the end of classes. Right now I have it easy. Sitting in the law school all summer trying to learn the law is going to be miserable.

“It’s supposed to rain this weekend,” I’m not interested in sailing when its raining and not at all warm yet like it should be.
“But its going to be windy! 15-20 knots!” Geoffrey wants to go sailing, rain and thunderstorms or not.

And it was a beautiful, sunny day when we got out in the boat with just enough breeze to make the sailing fun. Mom came along with her dog Savannah, who was enjoying the wind in her face and the tons and tons of birds on the lake. Mom was amazed at how well she took to the boat, not having problems with the bouncing and the leaning of the boat.

We were enjoying our sail when suddenly a gust of wind hit the boat. Geoffrey released the sails and we turned to the side, the boat behaving perfectly as it was supposed to. Ahead we could see a dark gray cloud sweeping down. Geoffrey cut on the motor as I pulled down the sails and we raced across the lake to the little marina with a burger joint in it we were headed to for lunch.

After burgers and chips (no fries, apparently a squirrel got into the transformer and blew the power on the deep fryer), we headed back out to our little sailboat, which was rocking along against the dock. We threw off the lines and decided to race the next storm back to the dock.

Of course, we couldn’t sail faster that the storm was coming, so it caught up to us about halfway back across the lake. Geoff assured us he could handle the boat by himself, so mom and I crawled into the little cabin of the boat and Savannah insisted that she was going to come along. She was just wet enough to eminate a good wet-dog-stink from all her fur. Mom threatened her with a bath, but she ignored this and curled up on the sailbag, happy to be out of the wet.

As soon as the storm calmed down, I opened the top and ejected the stinky dog. She was none-too-amused by this and scratched at the window in the door, indicating she would far rather be inside than out with her otherwise beloved Geoffrey. So we let her back in and opened the inside windows to try and get the wet-dog-stink out of the cabin. By the time we pulled up to the dock, the storm had past and it was a beautiful, sunny day once again.

“There’s no place better to be on a rainy day than in the cabin of a boat,” Geoff says as we pull up to the dock and start to unload the boat.
“Well then,” mom says, gathering up Savannah, “I’ll go home and y’all can go back out in the middle of the lake and drop anchor.”
“Nah, that cabin is cramped and I want a warm shower,” I reply. Geoff agrees, at least on the warm shower part. Poor boy got soaked through. The boat needs a bigger cabin…with a little shower…I’m thinking 38′ would be nice…

For my IS class we’re learning how to program in HTML – rather old school for me, but it lead to me looking through all my old websites and some great fun. From the time I was in middle school up through when I started grad school, I completely changed the look and feel of my website every 3 to 6 months. And then there were the tons of sub-sites that were created and then forgotten. The quotes pages from professors. The Ashen Prose D&D club. The German club. NetMerlin (complete with stick figure profiles!). And tons upon tons of pictures. Every site was completely different and designed with much love and care. I’d forgotten how much fun it was!

My site for the IS class is significantly less exciting, but maybe all this website playing will inspire me to give my site one last final makeover before I graduate and get a real job.

Oh, and on my blog I used to count the number of speeding policemen I’d seen. This now amuses me greatly.

Beautiful weather and I’m stuck sitting in a classroom for eight hours a day. This in itself is what makes Bridge the Gap an evil, evil program. Spring break and I’ll spend more time in a class room in two days than I normally spend in a week. All the while the sun is shining for almost the first time this year and I want nothing more than to get outside.

Today after Geoff picked me up, I insisted that we had to spend the remaining hour of sunlight outside. Somewhere, anywhere. So he drove us down to the dam end of Riverfront Park and we walked out to the overlook, watching the water spill over the top of the dam while Geoffrey explained the purpose of this to me.

After a while, one of the park rangers came down with some people offering a tour of the fish ladder. Ok, sure, why not? He takes us around to the gated off area and lets us walk down the fish ladder. You can see under the grate where the fish can climb up a foot of water and then take a break in the protected areas. He also shows us the window all the fish swim by so that the local biologist can count them (and also how the window is marked off in boxes so no fish stories will result from the counting…”I saw a fish this big…”).

“This is where the catfish wait,” our guide tells us, pointing to one step in the ladder, “and gobble up the shad as they pass. And behind you, that rock is where the snakes sit with their heads out of water while they feast. And of course there are gulls and herons and other birds that feed off the fish trying to come up the dam.”

Geoffrey and I walk past the NO FISHING sign at the end of the dam.

“So basically, every animal in the park except humans can fish here. Feast off the fish buffet as the fish are neatly channeled through for the eating pleasure of the snapping turtles, the snakes, the bigger fish, the birds and whatever other hungry fish-eating wildlife there might be.” Geoffrey agrees and then starts explaining how hydro-electric dams work. I’m still trying to decide whether the fish ladder is an improvement for the fish or not. Maybe they can get higher up in the river, but the odds are pretty bad.

Finally! The weather warmed up enough for Geoffrey and I to take the boat out this weekend. We were hoping for warm weather and light winds, but it wasn’t quite warm enough and the wind couldn’t make up its mind whether to let us sail or not. I was glad I had a jacket and was happy to cuddle up while we switched from sail power to motor power and back…like all the other sailboats out on the lake.

“Geoff, isn’t that boat headed downwind?” I point to a lovely white cruiser off our bow. Geoffrey trains his new spyglass that direction and identifies the type of boat, number of people on board and what they are drinking. I have much less talent with the telescope.
“Yes, they are, but their sails are wrong. Must be why they’re moving so slow.” We watch the boat with its sails fully rigged but pulled in straight, unable to catch any wind, slowly motor towards us.

“They’re cheating!” Geoff declares just as the low hum of a diesel motor catches my ear.
“Then why are their sails even up?” I ask.
“They look pretty?” The couple on the other boat salutes us with their beer cans. Must be nice to have a boat big enough to have a head on board…

…I got Geoff the pirate flag, maybe for his next birthday I’ll get him the brass cannon and let him go capture us a bigger boat…

From our honeymoon. Geoffrey, “Get me a pirate flag and a brass cannon and I’ll show you how to get a bigger boat.”

For the last several weekends, Geoffrey and I headed down to his farm so that he could plow. This really is exactly like it sounds. Farm. Tractor. Middle of nowhere. Lots of trucks. Bumpy dirt roads with no streetlamps and huge potholes.

The first weekend we were down there, I spent all day relaxing and reading and generally enjoying myself. When Geoffrey came in that evening, I was ready to go do something fun.

“There’s nothing to do around here.” Geoffrey’s tired and his hands are scratched from cutting things.
“No, surely, lets go get ice cream!” Everywhere has ice cream, right?
“There’s nowhere to get ice cream here. But lets go. I’ll show you what there is to do here.” He washes his hands, puts on a clean (plaid) shirt and we get in the truck.

After about ten minutes of driving (field on one side, woods on the other – turn – field on other side, woods beyond) we come to a small bar on the lake.

“This is it.” Geoffrey pulls up and we watch as drunk young men stumble off their pontoon boats and into the bar. “This is what people do around here on the weekend.” We drive around some more and then go home.

The next weekend we’re headed back down, almost to the house, when Geoffrey spots some lights out in one of his fields. He throws the truck into reverse, backs up and shines his lights out into the field until the car that’s at the other end pulls out and drives towards us. Geoff circles around and catches them.

“What are you doing in my field?” Geoff calls out the window. In the other little station wagon are two women.
“We were looking at the mud puddle back there. I was hoping it had dried up, but its still there.” There is some debate and hostility until Geoff has established that these are his fields and the woman has established that she does live in the area and wasn’t getting into trouble.

“So that’s what people do here on the weekend for fun, huh? Look at mud puddles.” I find this somewhat amusing.
“Oh, she was probably just trying to find a way to spy on her husband,” Geoff’s mom tells me.

Apparently her husband lives in the woods. Has lived there for years. Has a nice little camp set up back there. All the neighbors know about it. And she just wanted to know if the mud puddle had cleared off the path so she could go spy on him.

So, if you live in the middle of a farm in the middle of absolutely nowhere, for weekend amusement you and your friend go spy on your husband that lives in the woods. Huh. Well, my husband doesn’t live in the woods (except occasionally when he and the guys go hiking) and I hope that it stays that way. So I’m going to have to keep looking for what I want to do on those farm weekend nights.

One of the few things Geoffrey and I agree about musically is that Rebecca Loebe is a really amazing singer. She’s my college buddy’s sister. I’d heard her play once in undergrad and once again two years ago when she came through, crashed on my futon and insisted Geoffrey and I would make a good couple. Last night, she came through town again and it was a treat to hear her sing live some of the songs I’d only heard on her new CD. When I mentioned to C- and J- that she was coming through town, they made sure their weekend plans included listening to her sing.

Now I could go into at this point my opinion of the venue (which the whole group agreed didn’t really let her sound her best) or the girl that went after her or even her rendition of Kanye West’s Stronger which was excellent. But I’ve an awful head cold, so I’ll just stick with saying we saw Rebecca, her music gets better every time I’ve seen her play and everyone should check her out. Now, where is the sudafed?

I know why people blog about food. It’s a daily source of inspiration.

Tonight I made tacos. But I forgot the taco seasoning. That was fine because I like bland food, but Geoffrey had to flavor his with hot sauce.

Also, people blog about food because its safe.

Tonight I made tacos but almost burnt the house down in the process. The oven started to burn and when I opened it, smoke billowed out and set off the smoke alarm. Geoffrey ran in the kitchen to find me cowering in a corner with my hands over my ears, unable to see from the smoke in my eyes and had to wave a dish rag at the fire alarm to cut it off. Once I could see again, I started to worry that the fire department would soon show up to mock me as they did four years ago when an accidentally burnt steak set off the fire alarm. My ever-practical engineer husband assured me that because of different requirements in the fire code, this fire alarm was not wired to immediately summon the burnt-steak-mocking firemen. I guess their wives never had to learn how to cook the hard way.

Finally, people blog about food because everyone is interested in food…

Did you hear that, J-, I made tacos! Normally, J-, C- and I end up at Tuesday Taco night, but since J- is in the middle of the bar exam (which he will pass so that I can have his books) we held off tonight in plans of bar-completion celebration tomorrow. But I had tacos anyways. Nah nah nah nah nah nah.

Yes, there is lots of inspiration in food.

Last year for valentine’s – since everything was already booked – I decided to cook Geoff supper. So I sent him to the grocery store with explicit instructions to bring home bread and cheese and flowers. So off he goes and I get down to the business of cooking.

About thirty minutes later, he shows back up and dumps his goods on the counter; white bread, good cheese and three kinds of flours – wheat, self-rising and pastry. He was very pleased with himself.

This valentine’s I decided to ask for something different as it took me forever to finish up all that flour. So I asked him for a sweet letter. Fairly straightforward, right?

I wake up to find a pink note on my desk, sitting on some wax paper, wet. The content of the note was certainly sweet, I must admit, but the note ended by suggesting that I taste it.

“What did you do to this?” I ask, sniffing it.
“I made you a sweet note,” he looks very pleased with himself. I lick it. Sure enough, it tastes sweet. Sigh.

“Next year, I’m going to ask you for diamonds…oh wait, never mind, that’s too easy for you…”

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It’s still snowing. Three inches and counting. Nothing compared to what they’re having up north, of course, but for South Carolina, its pretty awesome. Well, now that Geoff is home from work safe and sound without getting into a car wreak, its awesome.

The last time we had this much snow I was in high school. I went outside diligently to play in it and spent all afternoon gathering up every single bit of snow in our front yard to make a snowman – which I proudly put in the dead center of our driveway. When dad came home from work, I ran outside to make him drive around the snowman.

The pictures of snowmen have started to appear on facebook – its good so many people are enjoying the snow! I kinda wish it had snowed a different weekend, one where I didn’t have a lot of fun things planned, but hey, its the once-a-decade snow storm. I plan to enjoy!! Weather, would you mind snowing again Monday so school and work will be canceled?

Apparently, about a month ago, Geoff got a virus on his computer. It disabled his antivirus and happily went about inviting in its buddies. But otherwise, it was unobtrusive. Until Tuesday night when his computer completely died.

“What’s it doing now,” I was trying to figure out what was happening, he was driving me insane by looking over my shoulder and making me explain everything I was doing.
“This is generally referred to as the blue screen of death,” I reply, “I just know you have a backup somewhere, right? Just in case I have to wipe it?”
“I did, but I lost it.” Typical.

I turn back to regard the blue screen. This was going to be a fight, then. Loosing five years worth of code and data was not an option. So I couldn’t take the easy way out and wipe it.

I pull the harddrive out of the laptop and connect it to my desktop (which by some fluke of luck uses Serial ATA to connect my RAID harddrives), disable RAID and boot up. I can now access and clean Geoff’s harddrive using my desktop. All while my data is safely disconnected.

Two days and countless hours of various antivirus scans later, not to mention the viruses rather valiant attempts at invading my machine, the computers are both clean. Tonight I will have to drag him to the store to buy a portable harddrive to make regular backups.

“I had this happen to me after I completed my masters,” he tells me.
“And what did you do then without me to rescue you?”
“Oh, I had to send it off to get the data recovered – cost me about $800.”

When will people learn to backup? Even if you don’t get a virus, harddrives periodically wear out. They have movable parts that grow old and break. Or a lightening strike can totally fry your system. Or your malicious younger sibling can sit down and delete your files while you aren’t looking.

Businesses (or at least those with tech savvy people) back up regularly, on a schedule, including a remote backup (in some cases, this means the manager takes the tape backup to her house). Why haven’t individuals learned to do the same? Its as easy as burning a CD or copying to a portable harddrive. There are even programs that do it for you automatically.

In my now 8+ years of doing tech support I’ve run across two types: the ones who back up their data almost obsessively to the point that they spend almost too much time and energy on it and those that don’t bother to back up at all. Oh, and those that have macs and so assume that nothing bad at all could happen to their computer ever. Which is just great. But my experience also shows that if your computer is going to crash (which they all eventually do), it will probably do so the night before your paper is due.

“So where is Geoffrey this weekend?” I’m out eating with some of my parent’s friends.
“Hiking.” It’s true.
“Ah, that’s what Gov. Sanford said!” Laughter.

But no, he came home last night dirty with the sniffles from spending the weekend in the mountains in below-freezing conditions.

---

I was in the produce section of the grocery store yesterday loading my cart up with apples and bananas and strawberries and other yummy foods when a very large old man with crooked teeth and a wicked grin walks over to me.

“You’re eating far too healthy there,” he tells me.
“Ah, don’t worry,” I reply, “I plan to dip it all in chocolate and cheese.” I’m planning on having fondue for the evening.
“Good to hear there’s a little sin with all that health food,” he replies. He wanders off and I go back to my shopping. About a minute later he comes back over.
“Dark chocolate,” he tells me, winking, “that would make it healthy.”

---

The circus is in town. I had managed to stay oblivious to the newspaper ads and tune out the radio ads, but the circus struck me full force when I walked by the Colosseum on my way to school. The entire building was vibrating to the beat of music I could not hear. I hurried away, worried that the building was about to explode from its outward vibration. I hope that really old concrete Colosseum engineering still holds up to modern sound production.

Everyone knows the business school students spend a lot of time abroad, but what do they really do while they’re over there…

This is a blog from one of my classmates that never fails to make me smile.

i.jumped.here

I like to sell my used textbooks on Amazon as I can generally get a better price for the book this way rather than selling them back to the bookstore at a loss. Once the book sells, I then take the book to the post office, buy an envelope and ship the book media mail to its new home. Amazon allows you a shipping allowance which roughly covers the cost. Today, however, things didn’t quite work out.

I took the book to the post office in between my classes, got the envelope, wrote the address on it and put the book and packing slip inside.

Me: I’d like to ship this media mail please, its a book.
Post Office: I saw a letter inside the book.
Me: Yes, that’s a packing slip.
Post Office: That’s correspondence, I can’t ship it media mail.
Me: No, its a packing slip. It tells me where to ship the book to and what book it is.
Post Office: I can only ship it media mail if its just a book.
Me: ….seriously?

The post office refused to ship the book media mail. Flat refused. So no more putting packing slips in with the book. But I’m mailing used textbooks, aren’t the notes written in the book correspondence? What if I shipped a book of letters? Does the post office really have an issue if I ship a book to a friend with a sticky on the front that says “Enjoy!”?

How dare I ship a packing slip with a book!

“The boat’s name is Perseverance.”

I wrinkle my nose. What kind of name is that for a boat? I grew up around boats with clever names like Liquid Joy which had so many different meanings one could get endless amusement out of guessing which the owner meant. But Perseverance? Sounds like a goal someone was striving towards rather than a pleasure boat.

But Geoffrey refuses to let me change the boat’s name. “It’s bad luck.” I beg to disagree. Pirates changed the name of their boats all the time. So I insist on calling in Percy.

But stories should start at the beginning rather than in the middle where I’m standing on a dock fighting 60 mph winds to tie up the boat. The only question is, where does this story begin? Back when Geoffrey and I were first dating and he planned a whole date around taking me to learn to sail that was canceled due to weather? Or does it begin with our decision to go sailing for our honeymoon…somewhere?

I think it begins in the afternoon in late September, with me sitting in the middle of a lake, trying to sail. Geoffrey decided that the best way for me to learn to sail was, after taking me out in the boat twice and explaining it to me, to turn me loose in the middle of the lake in a sunfish and tell me to get back to the dock. Which was working just fine until the wind died.

I sat there, trying to figure out what I was doing wrong, while the boat sat there, doing nothing. A redneck in a big powerboat (two motors) drives by me laughing and asks if I need a tow. No, I’ve got to learn to do this. Geoffrey is calling encouragement from the dock, “You’re doing great!” How do you figure? I’m not moving.

The wake from the powerboat knocks my little sunfish to the side enough for it to catch a small puff of wind. I proceed with my attempt at sailing back to the dock. This involves a rather tedious business where I have to sail at an angle towards one shore of the lake, then quickly turn to sail towards the other shore, slowly making my way towards the dock. Tacking – the reason you have to really enjoy sailing and not be in a hurry. There, are you happy honey? I learned to sail. Or at least made it back to the dock.

Shortly after this, Geoffrey found a Victoria 18 for sale in my hometown. Instead of renting a boat for the honeymoon, we could have our own boat to sail every weekend and everywhere we wanted. It was in good condition and we could keep it in my parent’s backyard. (Or rather, dad volunteered we could keep it there and even thought it was a pretty sight out the window until we put a bright blue tarp over it.) We could go over in the evenings and Geoffrey could work on the boat while I played with mom.

“We can’t take it on a blue water crossing, it’s too small,” Geoffrey insisted. I had my heart set on the Virgin Islands. “But we can take it down to the Keys. That’s Caribbean sailing but safer.” I’m game, especially for the idea of getting a boat where we can sail lots of different places.

So we buy the boat. And like excited new boat owners, we take it to the lake our very first weekend to sail. Which was a great plan, but there was absolutely no wind. Geoffrey made me rig the sails anyways for practice. We took it out again the next weekend and again, there was no wind. It was starting to look like we would be going on our honeymoon having never sailed the boat.

Our last free weekend before the honeymoon, we took the boat down to Edisto since we figured there would always be some kind of wind at the beach. Saturday was beautiful and we cleaned the boat, put on a new coat of bottom paint, waxed all the metal parts and oiled the wood. It was really starting to look like a pretty boat (it already was a pretty boat, but the bottom paint was see-through and the wood was parched, it needed some attention). Sunday, we took the boat to the landing and stood there with some park rangers looking at the giant waves and listening to NOAA weather radio call out a small craft advisory. For a change, it was blowing too much to sail.

So the next week, when we hooked the boat up to the truck to tow it down to Florida, we hadn’t gotten to actually sail it. Still, Geoffrey was confident we were going to have fun and I was looking forward to the honeymoon, the warm weather and going someplace new. Geoff, of course, would undoubtedly go into a long, detailed discussion at this point about oiling the hubcaps of the boat trailer for the trip down or the specifics of tying down the mast so it doesn’t bounce loose or how it isn’t safe to park the boat anywhere because someone might back into it and chip the gel coat. But I was the happy, carefree, head-out-the-window passenger who wasn’t worried about all the problems between SC and Florida. We were going sailing! Finally!

And sure enough, the water was beautiful. Perhaps not as clear as Geoffrey remembered, but wonderfully warm and delightfully salty. We were staying off Marathon at Valhalla Point Resort, an absolute jewel of a small beach shack hotel. Clean sand, hammocks, a dock out back for the boat, the grill out front, other friendly guests, a spoiled lobster-eating dog – it could have been the set of a 1920s/30s movie. We trekked sand in and out of our room, forgot to turn the AC on for most of the stay, cooked lobster, fish and shrimp on the grill and, oh yes, sailed.

Geoffrey started calling me his deck lemur, “no matter how much we’re bouncing around, she gets up on the front of the boat, wraps her prehensile tail around the mast and rigs the sails.” I loved bouncing over the waves on the bow of the boat, helping Geoffrey navigate through the shallow water. If we were at anchor while he fished, I stretched out along the deck, enjoying the sun and salt and a good book.

Then, Friday, the weather hit. The water had been choppy Thursday and the weather radio had been predicting bad weather since Tuesday, but what we got was a downpour. We went shopping in Key West rather than even thinking about sailing. Why ruin something fun by going into miserable conditions when you don’t have to?

“We’ve had hurricanes with less rain than this,” one lady told us. The people of the Keys seem to have a very interesting view of hurricanes. The caretaker of our hotel had just told us a story about trying to drive into town during a hurricane to get cigarettes and having a wave of refrigerators come down the road at him. But hey, its just a hurricane, lets go into town.

When we got back to Marathon that evening, the wind had picked up enough that Geoffrey wanted to move our boat to the other side of the dock. It was dark and crazy windy and the last thing I wanted to do was stand out on the dock while he fidgeted with the boat. I’d been doing a lot of that all week. I would much rather be inside.

But instead I helped with the hard part of owning a boat – dealing with the bad weather. Trying to move it against the wind and current, tying it down when its wet and dark without hurting myself. Not slipping off the boat’s wet deck (yay Sperry!).

Finally, curled up in our room, the boat safely tucked away from the worst of the danger, we were listening to the VHF radio (which goes almost everywhere with Geoffrey) to a boat no one could get out to rescue. Geoffrey likes to tell this story in disgusting detail also, but I really don’t think it necessary. It just graphically illustrated the valuable lesson of not taking a small boat out in big seas. Something will go wrong. And when that something goes wrong and you don’t have the right emergency equipment, well, at best you’re in for a rough night.

We went back to SC. The boat, parked in a hotel parking lot overnight, got backed into and had its gel coat cracked. Something for Geoffrey to repair. I didn’t want to go home and neither did Geoff. We only lacked a slightly bigger boat and we could just keep going. Past the Keys, down the Caribbean to Trinidad. And from there, who knows. There are an endless number of sailing adventures to be had and we’re only getting started. And I still have much learning to do. But its fun, not work. I don’t have to stick with sailing, there’s no need to persevere. Sailing is just fun and the next boat is going to be named something fun.

It was an absolutely beautiful day at the beach…until I decided I wanted to take a kite out to fly. I had been walking along the beach earlier, watching all the people and all the dogs and all the kite surfers.

The people all have these sticks with ball holders on the end which they can use to launch the balls long distances with little effort. The dogs seemed to enjoy this improvement on the average human’s throwing distance and raced past each other in attempts to catch their balls mid-bounce. Of course, sometimes, they got sidetracked seeing a different ball going the other direction and would turn around and chase it, leaving their owner a long way to walk to recover a ball that has either washed out a few feet into the surf (cold) or been confiscated by another dog (icky). Then the dogs and their owners would be involved in a repeated and slightly awkward conversation about getting the right ball back to the right owner.

I was especially inspired by the kite surfers. The wind was kicking and the weather radio was calling for 8-11ft seas but the sky was as clear and blue and the sun as bright and warm as anyone could wish. They were jumping and splashing and having a blast, safely protected from the cold temperatures by their wetsuits (it is January). I wanted to try. Geoffrey has said I can – we’re hoping to move somewhere we can live on the water – and then kite surfing could be my afternoon exercise. Maybe I need to learn how, first.

But inspired by the sun and the wind and the kite boarders, I went back to the beach house and picked up a kite we’d brought back from China for Geoffrey’s mother. Then, after untangling some cord and making a new tail for the kite, we trouped back out to the beach, ready to try out the kite. By the time we hit the boardwalk one house over, it was raining.

We managed to get the kite in the air, though it almost immediately lost its tail. While Geoffrey and I ran with the kite and threw the kite into the rain, Geoff’s sister amused herself by “flying” the tail of the kite. Five minutes later, soaked through by rain and freezing cold due to lack of sunshine, we trouped back home, defeated.

The kite was put down in the garage, sandy shoes were taken off, wet jeans and jackets thrown into the washing machine and we made it back upstairs.

“Back so soon?” Geoff’s mom motions to the window. The rain clouds have cleared away and the sun is once again shining brightly. One brief blow of weather to drag our kite through the sand and remind us not to give up right away. After all, the sun will come out eventually.

Some strange thing is starting to occur among many of my friends. First they all got married, then they all had babies. Now, they’re all blogging about cooking. While I know from marketing classes and work experience that “mommy-bloggers” are a force of interest in the marketing world (because if you pay them to rate your product, this somehow has more weight than paying, say, an expert in the field). But now I’m watching this start to occur among my friends. Every evening, about this time, they all post what they are cooking. It makes me hungry. So I either drag Geoffrey out to eat or make pasta.

But tonight I am actually cooking. Not for my loving husband and small child (because, much to my mother’s disappointment, I still don’t have one or more of those) but for some friends who are coming over to eat. And by cook, I mean, of course, that I have bought all the food and it is lined up neatly on the counter waiting for Geoffrey to get home and do something with it.

I did make tacos the other day that I’m assured were better than the ones you get Tuesdays at the Whig.

So, as far as what I’m Geoffrey is cooking for tonight…oh no, nevermind, it would not quite fit the balanced mealplan, healthy cooking mommy-bloggers.

This summer, I was in Dearborn, MI working for Ford Motor Company and blogging for the business school.

Originally posted on 9/22/08 as a diversion from studying Management…
—–
Two years ago…

He’s still walking next to me. How am I supposed to change from heels into walking shoes if he’s still talking to me? I apparently have a subconscious desire to impress this boy who has rambled on about digital cameras, his garage apartment, his dog and a bunch of engineering stuff for a while now and appears to have decided to follow me to work. Oh well, four blocks in heels won’t kill me, will it? But why is he walking me to work? I say something about cookies to keep the conversation going. I like cookies. And I’m on solid footing talking about cookies. I’m not so sure about all this water-flow-modeling stuff. Cookies are a nice, safe subject. This guy is scary smart. Best to talk about cookies.

I keep thinking he’ll finish whatever he’s going to say, but it looks like he’s going to walk me all the way to the door of the office. Which means he’s probably going to ask me on a date. I feel all middle school. Except that won’t do. I like Geoff, I really do, but I can’t go on a date with him. It’s a shame, if he doesn’t ask, then we can go on being friends. But I’m scared if he does ask, and I have to say no, then will he stop talking to me? I don’t want that. I’d better show some interest in water-flow-modeling…

Sure enough, out it comes. He’s going to visit some friends this weekend, but has some free time Saturday morning and would love to see the zoo if I’d like to come. This isn’t fair, I love the zoo. I love running around and taking a zillion pictures of all the animals. But I can’t, I say, I agreed to go shopping with Mallory Saturday. It does sound like fun, though, and I do hope he checks it out some time. I smile sweetly and disappear in the door and make a mad dash to my boss’s office.

“You will never believe, I just got asked on a date to the zoo by an engineer!” I’m obviously flustered. Which is why, a year later, when I tell my boss I’m now dating the engineer, she remembers the event very well and doesn’t seem the least bit surprised.

Saturday, September 20, 2008, 4:15 pm

“Are you ready to go?” Geoffrey now, because I love saying his full name, looks ever so good in his suit and I can”t help but grin at him. “We’re going to get bar-be-que!” He loves bbq. Me, not quite as much as he does. But I’m determined not to spoil anything and smile at him. I think he believes he’s pulling one over on me. So we get in the car and chat all the way over to West Columbia where he suddenly swerves into the zoo. Click, this should be interesting. I had some suspicions, but his silly grin now is a confirmation. I start to get nervous.

He buys us tickets and we wander around the botanical gardens trying to point out elephant ears and roses. He’s talking about engineering some water-flow-carp-pool thing. I’m beginning to wonder if my wedges are going to get caught in some of the thicker sand. We wander through all the little paths that in the spring would be impassable due to flowers and now, in late summer, are just green and you can read all the tags and inspect the leaf shape without the colorful flower to distract you.

Finally we settle down in a brick gazebo on a bench, Geoffrey sitting next to me while I look at the sky, the plants, anything I can see to distract myself from just looking over at him and grinning. From the sneak peaks I’ve seen of him, he”s grinning at me something fierce. It takes him three tries to get through the lead in, but finally he manages.

“So, I was going to bring you here to get to know you better,” he has been refusing to take me to the zoo since I first turned him down two years ago.

“I’d guess you know me fairly well by now,” I reply. I’m grinning at him, ignoring the hand fidgeting with something in his pocket.

“Well, I just have one more question…” he puts a small velvet box in my lap.

blog up – now, to integrate? always changing things around.

Geoff’s idea, doing a blog about the boat. Probably because its something he’s interested in. We’ll see how far I get tonight, anyways.  Big image on the homepage was taken by another couple while we were on honeymoon, so that’s us sailing. Little images will probably go. Still playing around with all that in Illustrator. Thought I would have it done before the blog went live. Ah well.