I wish I could tell you that for the last few days, I was off having a bunch o’ fun, but that’s not it!
In fact, it has been the opposite of fun. Like, a special kind of hell. The kind where Bill Gates is in charge.
The backlight went out on my trusty lil five-year-old Mac laptop. My beloved! After struggling with it going on and off, screen randomly going black, then finally going black for good, I gave it up and took it in to be fixed. It will take one to two weeks, depending on how long it takes to get the backlight in. ONE TO TWO WEEKS.
I went home to think it over, sleep on my disastrous problem, deal with separation anxiety from My Beloved.
Then I decided to go back and buy a cheap backup laptop. It’s been years since I used a PC and you just can’t get one anymore that doesn’t have Windows 8 on it. Which apparently is much different from Windows 7 and other previous versions of Windows. All I know is that I don’t like it and can hardly figure out how to do anything. Not only am I used to a Mac, I’m dealing with Windows 8. After enslaving my friend Jerry to pick out the laptop for me to start with, he then loaded my necessary programs for me or trust me I wouldn’t be here at all.
Meanwhile, it’s taking me about 100 times longer to do anything, so please bear with me.
I CAN’T WAIT TILL I GET MY MAC BACK!!!
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These photos were taken of Morgan coming up on her 13th birthday. (Don’t you love how in one of them she is milking a goat?!) Today is the last day of school here, her last day of 11th grade. She’s 17 1/2 (that 1/2 is important!) and has just one more first day of school before she heads off to college. (She’s planning to go to WVU.) Hard to believe my last child is on the brink of her last year of grade school.
Yesterday morning, she kept making me sign sticky notes. Blank sticky notes. And they were some kind of weird sticky notes where you had to keep turning the pad back and forth. (I can’t explain this properly.) And she kept making me sign more and more of them. I had barely gotten out of bed–she gets on the bus at 6:15 a.m.
Me: “We need to sit down and practice you writing my signature.”
Morgan: “I don’t want to forge your name!”
Me: “Why can’t you be a normal teenager?”
I’m pretty sure she was getting caught up on her excuse notes for her attendance record, but I didn’t have to ask. Morgan’s a very responsible girl. She came home from school and told me she’d told her friends I tried to get her to forge my signature. “They were all jealous,” she said. “Their parents would be mad if they forged their signatures and you’re trying to teach me.” Only she refuses to learn.
I said, “Do you know why I would do that?”
Yes, she did.
I said, “I trust you.” Plus I’m lazy and if she ever hands me that back-and-forth sticky pad mess again, I’m striking.
My parents never tried to teach me to forge their signatures. (They didn’t have to, I practiced on my own.) I’m pretty sure, though, that I couldn’t really be trusted!
I don’t know where Morgan came from, but I’m very lucky to have her.
P.S. She’ll be staying another week or so, has an ACT test scheduled, then will be spending a good bit of the summer in Texas–and coming back with her first car!
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