Although you can't tell, I finally got a Mac Friday night, just before taking the boys to see Harry Potter. My Dell laptop, quasi-dependable for the last five years, is on its last leg. It sucked the life out of batteries (I was tethered to the wall with a 7-month-old battery, my second one) and was pushed to the limit of what I needed to do. I really, really use my computers: audio, video, Photoshop, in addition to writing. My computer was old and lacked even the most standard, newer features which would enable me to hook up certain webcams (I had neither a webcam or mic on my laptop which meant that I was always running to Chris's studio to do my Skype interviews for various media outlets). Basically, it was HARSHING MY MELLOW.
Now I have this shiny, minimalist thing and I adore it. It's made dealing with audio and video so much easier. Also, I think I can now fly, eat beets without barfing, and kill spiders without shrieking my head off. All because of the Mac.
I've assured my PC friends that this does not mean that just I will not start carrying messenger bags, buy black rimmed glasses, and listen to Coldplay excessively just because I own a Mac. I don't have anything against any of those things, except for Coldplay, because I think they suck. Chris Martin sings like he snagged his groin on my uncle's cattle fence. Oh, and JOE SATRIANI.
This week is insane: I hosted for Jamie today as he filled in for Ingraham; I've been doing our VBS in the evenings; tomorrow I'm leaving for Blogher where I'm speaking on and moderating a panel about blogging as a homeschooling tool. Really looking forward to the discussion, as well as meeting some other tech-savvy homeschool mamas. I come back Sunday and immediately jump into guest-hosting for Jamie while he spends time with his son before his son ships out to Iraq.
I already miss my kids. They're with me all the time; I feel off-balance without them. I know that they will be fine with Chris because he is great with them and they'll go see movies and play video games and consume the candy that I've hidden at the top of the pantry behind the trash bags. But still, I miss them and I don't know if it's something hardwired into motherhood or if I'm just neurotic, but I always feel guilty and irresponsible when I leave them to go do anything for myself. I'll get over it only briefly, while I use all my faculties to freak out about the plane because, as you may know, I'm a ridiculous awful pansy when it comes to flying. Last night I made Chris rattle off the safety statistics as I dozed into my pillow.
If you're going to Chicago, please to be saying hello!
Posting here will be sporadic for the rest of the week, but I'll be on Twitter.