Happy Days Are Here Again

I fought the urge as long as I could but finally had to cave in to the baser longings of my heart. I bought a new Powerbook. This should be the last entry using the Sony Vaio.
When the hospital took away my Mac, I felt like a converso during the Spanish Inquisition. Yes, you could make me denounce my religion in order to stay alive, but you could never make me love the new one, or even practice it with the fullness of my heart.

Now that I've been liberated from the toxic waste dump of county employment, I decided to take the paltry remains of my severence package (most of which has gone to paying the COBRA bills) and buy myself a new laptop.

It arrived yesterday, and today I'm loading up software and cooing over it like the newborn it is.

In other news, Miss Frances Langford died. She was the local celebrity in my home town, and many are the dinners my family had at the old Outrigger.



I once got Susan Hayward's autograph there. She smiled and asked me if my father had told me to ask for it, because I was way too young to know who she was. But she was beautiful and gracious, and I still have the autograph, on the back of the blue valet parking stub. Unlike the celebrities of today, you could read her signature, too.