Even though I aced my hardware course in school, he has far better eyesight than I do, and I get him to do all the hardware stuff. He’s that good.

Recently, we had a crisis at casa witchypoo. His internet connection was not working. It could be the Microcrap router, but it could also be his wireless card.

His priest also had a bit of a geek crisis. Seems his baby boy dropped the external hard drive enclosure for his laptop (while it was connected and running!), and the delicate platters of his 250 GB hard drive did not take kindly to the fall. Since his internal hard drive was only 6 GB, he had a need.

ABB has been lusting after a laptop for some time now. He figured if the router was at fault, then he could always go somewhere else to play World of Warcraft. Laptop goes where the lap goes, you know.

He proposed a trade with his priest, who readily accepted, because ABB’s desktop has a speedy processor and a 250 GB hard drive. Also, ABB set him up on his laptop in the first place, and got it all tickety-boo.

ABB was over the moon. He has the laptop he always wanted, (Toshiba Satellite!) and the wireless card works on the router. The router will still need to be replaced shortly with a faster one. After all, I have the blazing 15 MB connection, might as well get as much router as possible to handle it.

More resourcefulness: Since the router was behaving petulantly, and I noticed that it was quite warm to the touch, ABB said he would do what I did for hot flashes, and trained a fan on it. Bingo! Smart, resourceful guy.

Only drawback with the laptop is that it needs more RAM. He can’t play WoW with what is on the machine. He also wants a bigger internal hard drive, so he doesn’t have to lug around the 80 GB drive that I had to spare. (The one that had all the funny military images I needed to access anyway) Who needs three hard drives? Not me. After transferring the data from the 80 GB drive, I still have 125 GB free on my secondary drive.

This was the impetus to open a shop. We want to fund our computer habits.

I have crystals galore, and some of them have been specially worked on by my shaman friend in Texas, the fabulous Lucy in da Sky.

I have gotten a few orders for my purple plates through this site, but the amount I make on them is laughable. I don’t want to raise my prices on them at this time, because I want them to be accessible to those who need them.

I also have artist friends, and I would like to market some of their offerings in the shop as well. I need one of them to come over and take pictures of my pretty crystals and artwork. Stop in from time to time, and see what is up. I like to change things up on a regular basis. My shop page is on my navigation bar. It’s a handy thing. I will have a new item up later today.

If you aren’t up for funding our computer habits, I understand. You can always vote for me.

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Getting Lemons, Selling Lemonade

I wanted to be very careful about the whole Santa Claus thing with my kids, because I just knew that later? Every lie I ever told would be fodder for their therapy, or worse, their blog.

In that vein, Santa was not a huge deal around my house. All the best prezzies didn’t come from Santa. The stockings did. That way, in a lean year (think: fluctuating finances) they wouldn’t be wondering why they weren’t good enough to get that mongo expensive toy they wanted. Bonus! In a good year, Mom got all the credit for the cool gifts.

Ass Burger Boy confessed recently that he pretended to believe in Santa for a lot longer than he really did. He figured he would get more presents if Santa was still coming to the prezzie party.

Am I the only one who sees the insanity of plunking your sweet baby into the lap of a largely unemployed department store Santa? I mean, just about every little kid howls and screams to get out of there. They know things. They know they don’t trust this smelly man with the bad breath. They certainly don’t want to sit on his lap and risk him getting a woody. I think about these things, and see absolutely no reason to subject a child to the trauma.

When ABB asked to see Santa at a local mall, I told him straight out:”Ass Burger Boy, that isn’t the real Santa. That is somebody the mall hired to dress up like Santa so all the kids would bring their parents to the mall to shop.” ABB totally got it. And I didn’t have to worry that a pervert would get a woody when my darling child sat on his lap.

I ask you now to reconsider when you push your child to sit on a stranger’s knee in order for you to get that photo op. If the child doesn’t want to do it, trust that your child is using his or her innate intuition. Besides, haven’t you been warning them against strangers?

Shameless self-promotion: Show me some freaking love. Go on, vote. You know you wanna. You have to register first, but you will make me very happy. Check your junk mail folder for the registration confirmation.

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Lies Their Mother Told Them