Memories

I often wonder what I have forgotten. I remember a beautiful brunette walking into business law on March 17th, 1997; her eyes, her hair, her shape, but not what she was wearing. Pants, skirt, sweater, blouse, each will present a body so differently, yet I remember she was perfect. How is it I can remember so many details of her on that day, yet not what she was wearing?

Memories are bound to be buried, maybe lost to me forever. I have now lived fifty years, years filled with friends, events, places, fights, crashes, learning, work, travel, parties, children, death. This past December I had a conversation with an old friend, he recounted an event I had totally forgotten. Even after the telling I was no closer to remembering, though it all seemed plausible and entirely likely.

Is that why the years have passed so quickly? Because of forgotten details? Thankfully I have had few traumatic or painful events that need to be forgotten, yet these are with me. The years have gaps, ones that should be filled with smiles and people.

As my life develops new memories, I wonder what will be shoved out over the (hopefully) next fifty years. Yes, I want to experience more, but the past is so powerful, so cherished.

As she sat to my right, I was struck by that smile, those twinkling eyes. I suppose her clothes weren't that important. And that's enough of a memory for me.

Spring Break

I remember Spring Break break being a magical time, there were woods to explore, school teachers to escape from, endless play, sleeping in.

Why does it exist?

That was all before I was the parent. Ask the kids, hell yes, a break! But to the parent, there is extra oversight, extra cash expenditures, and extra time management, extra food, extra extra extra... Really, why does my 1st grader and a pre-schooler need a whole week away? Do they really need to recharge?

Well, we used that time to visit the Children's Museum, the Science Museum, and the Arboretum. There were also visits to the park, kids off on play dates, and a few lunches out. For the adventuresome, you can clicky clicky to see some photos.

Now I need a Spring Break. Give me a week of crisp mountain air, rugged peaks, bright flowers and I too will be as recharged and relaxed as the kids. But I would admit that a few days on a hot beach, adult beverage in hand, and beach bunnies in sight would go a longs ways...

But I digress, I am happy to settle for the kids being back in school and me with an adult beverage.

Bastard

I built myself a new PC. The past three desktop PCs have been ordered from Dell. It was always the same, start with a budget, determine the base model, modify a bit here and there, and order. A few days later a box arrives and the software personalization begins. The machines have always been solid performers, if not a tad overpriced. I guess that's the price of comfort.

This time I read, reviewed, edited, and finally ordered the parts to build one for myself. For half of the price I paid in 2007, I now have a much more capable and (potentially) reliable machine. Components were selected that are solid & dependable, not necessarily to squeeze out the best megahertz. I understand the parts inside, why they are there. I have an operating system installed without bloat-ware. It was a fun, nerve-racking experience.

It has now been two weeks; I've tweaked, added peripheral hardware, installed drivers & programs, changed my file layout and associated backup strategies. I believe the machine is now complete, it just needs to be used.

But I have a dilemma, what do I call it? It seems that I called all the previous machines "the Dell" because they were, well, from Dell. This one was built by me, for me. It is not a system from Dell, IBM, whomever. I could call it "desktop," but that has no character, soul. The case is from Lian-Li, a nice subdued black with those words embossed in a silvery-gray, bit those words have no emotional attachment to the effort, nor to the components inside.

I have a mechanical pet, maybe even akin to a mechanical child, and it is my responsibility to name it. But it has no mother, no second legitimate parent. Maybe I'll just call it "Bastard"...