Return

My computer returned! It was gone a mere SIXTEEN DAYS. The power supply blew up or broke down or scrabbled at its throat and fell over or whatever it is that power supplies do when they die. It took the motherboard with it. It would have been an easy fix had I been willing to lose my programs. Alas, since I was a pirate in my other life, I couldn't let that happen. So a new motherboard of a specific kind was ordered. It arrived but it was flawed, if Metria was correct, or it was the wrong one, if Jeannie is correct. There was no rush put on the delivery of the second motherboard because it would have cost another hundred dollars.

What? Do you believe that? Neither do I.

The delay in delivery was attributed in part to Veterans' Day and the closing of the post office. But the part was delivered by UPS.

Are you starting to feel my pain?

But why dwell on it? I did get my computer back on Saturday. However, it took three trips to the shop to get everything right, because apparently that dramatic power supply up there in the first paragraph also grabbed the keyboard and mouse on its way out. Or down. Or up.

I bought the one keyboard they had at Gulfport Technology Center, a twenty-dollar thing whose sound I didn't like. I could have come to live with that, to even like it perhaps, but it was stingy with the U and sometimes Y. I had to go back and add those characters, or stay there and smack the key a couple of times. It was unbearable, so I bore it not. I went on errands with Mike and Benji on Sunday, and we bought a Wireless, Optical Desktop Set.

So far, I'm not reaping the benefits of wireless. Or maybe the plusses so subtle that, like, say, a vitamin, I'm benefiting without knowing why. What I see is that I've lost one wire and gained a thing. I'm not impressed. But that seems to be the way of the world, so here I am with my Wireless, Optical Desktop Set.

The lefthanded shift sticks. I have to keep going back and capitalizing things. If this keeps up, perhaps I'll learn to start sentences only with words that start with letters on the lefthand side of the keyboard.

The question is: Shall I return this whole mess because of a sticky shift key? Well, I've already had to go back and fix two things in the first sentence, so the answer is yes. I'd like to call and get smiling permission to merely bring in the offending keyboard, not its mouse and receiver. I also want to keep my batteries, which took more than TWELVE HOURS to charge ... unless the little it's-still-charging light is a liar.

But let's go back to Metria. When I first saw her, I felt like I was in the presence of a marvelous mythical creature. She is so clearly a man. She walks like a man, talks like a man. She's got man hands. But she's so clearly a woman. She has, if not breasts, at least a bustline. She has girly blond hair. Her eyes -- Mediterranean blue -- seem feminine.

If she's a transvestite, Patrick Swayze would be rolling over in his grave if he were dead, which he isn't. No. I'm pretty sure Metria's a transsexual and is simply lacking funds to make the transition.

It's hard to speak of her as a she, though, especially when most of our contact has been on the phone. She's entirely manly there. And when I went to pick up my computer, she offered to carry it to the car for me. I hesitated. If she were a woman, I'd carry it myself. But if she's a man, hell, let him carry it.

And what about his partner Jeannie? Is she is life partner or his business partner? If life, then Metria really is a lesbian trapped in a man's body.

It's very confusing to me. I wonder if it's confusing to Metria. I'll bet not. I'll bet if she listens to herself, and not to her culture, she's knows exactly who she is. And, oddly, none of that is my business. It's of interest because I tend to be curious, but that's all.

I want to recommend them as a place to do business, but I just can't.

I'll be at the Wednesday Midday Market at Williams Park tomorrow from 11 to 2. You heard me: three whole hours. I've already decided against bringing ANY papier-mache, and I'll only display tee shirts on hangers swinging from the canopy; I won't bother with the garment rack. I won't bring all the tees, either. That's just too short a time.

I'll be someplace on Black Saturday -- Sacred Lands or downtown Gulfport. December 6 is a sale at St. Vincent's on Ninth Street. I think it's an Episcopal church. I hope so, because that gives me the opportunity to remind you that when you rearrange the letters in "Episcopal," you get "Pepsi Cola." The makers of that fine beverage would insist on the hyphen (or is that just me?) but they're not going to get it. I'll be in Tampa on December 13 at WMNF's fund-raising holiday bazaar.

Last Saturday was another beautiful drumming session with Buddy Helm (http://www.buddyhelm.com/). I wish I could describe what goes on, but I can't. I know I sway from trance to grin. I know I can look up and laugh and someone else is laughing, too. I know I feel joy there. I don't know where else I have felt that. Ever.

He'll be back at The Longhouse in January, but he may be at other local venues before then.

On Thursday, Jill and Marty and their daughter Riva are returning to perhaps finish painting their van. Jill has given me permission to blog about it, but I won't. It's been too traumatic. People in my house! People in my space! Everywhere people! But I will include a picture.