We all take things for granted. Probably the worst thing we take for granted are other people, and that they will always be there for us. But I’m not going to write about that, I’m writing about the fact that I have gotten really good service from my web host service provider for over 4 years now. Except for a few bumps along the way during server upgrades/migrations, my web hosting/email service has been pretty darn exceptional. So exceptional, that I take it for granted.

This week has been one of those weeks where my taking the service for granted has bit me in the butt — my web host company was doing a nice thing, upgrading our servers and services, they do this about every 2 years or so. Usually, its only a matter of learning my new password to get into the Control Panel to tinker with my config/set up, no big deal, a matter of a few minutes out of my day. This time, though, it was truly traumatic. Server migration occurred on Monday night and it was not until 3 pm today that I actually got everything back to normal. The culprit? What you’re reading right now, my Blog. It has some finicky web blog config settings and my MYSQL database’s name also changed, so that kinda threw a “Minkey” (as Inspector Clouseau would say) wrench into everything, including using the wrong new DB name. Doh!

We all get so comfortable with things that always work, that it is truly hair pulling experience when the things we depend on fail. I don’t know about you, but I was F-R-A-N-T-I-C that I couldn’t write to my blog, that you couldn’t read anything new or fascinating about my life (wink -wink), and that you also could not send me your pithy comments about my life, via the blog.

We all owe Norm, from Premium Host a big round of thanks (and a beer!) that this blog has been restored. OK, so maybe I just owe him a big THANK YOU and a beer.

Note to Norm: THANK YOU!!! and if you are ever in the DC area, or I ever venture into your Canadian provence, I’ll buy you a beer!

Reagan’s return into the DC area will cause pure pandemonium and is creating a traffic hell. This morning after hearing the hoopla and details of his casket

Hi, and happy summer. No, I haven’t gone AWOL, just been busy with work and extracuricular activities, most recently:

• painting Lisa’s bathroom
• working on the 2004 Goatman web site and graphics
• life in general
• enjoying the beautiful summer weather (well, okay perhaps not this past weekend)
• going to see the newest Harry Potter & the Prisoner of Azkaban Movie (pretty much loved it except for some missing crucial storyline info)

Anyway, ever just get so distracted by nothing much that normal activities fall by the way side? Well, that’s how I’ve been recently, just distracted. I know I’ve done things, but not really all that sure what they’ve been. Does that make any sense or am I just cracking up?

Kryptonite: Exposure to it causes weakness and eventually is fatal — From the Kryptonite Hand Book

I’m working merrily along this afternoon – truly, I was nose to the grindstone. Then, like the recent Cicadas infestation, I began to hear a small, steady and persistent voice calling to me from one floor below. At first, I wasn’t sure what the voice was saying to me, slowly, the message started to become clear and it directed me to the snack counter one floor down. Mysteriously drawn out of my office, and down to the snack counter, I chanced a glance into the bakery unit, and sure enough, there it was…my own personal kryptonite: a Chocolate, chocolate chip muffin.

I should have looked away quickly, but by then, it knew it had me lured. I was powerless in its gaze. It then proceeded to hypnotize me into opening my wallet and taking out $1.84, which it said would ransom it from its glass enclosed prison – and it promised to be forever in my debt. I was too weak to resist its omnipotent powers. I did whatever it asked of me, and then having rescued it from its glass prison, I brought it back to my desk. We eyed each other for all of 30 seconds – it then turned on me, its rescuer and began to taunt me. In a fit of rage and anger, I ate it. That should teach that nasty old Chocolate, chocolate chip muffin not to mess with me!

Call me vain, call me a bottle blonde, call me addicted to shows like ABC’s
Extreme Makeover and even its wicked stepsister, FOX Network’s The Swan. I watched the first episode of the Swan in April and guiltily watched the Swan pageant finale. Why do I (and other women I know) watch these shows? We know they’re often poorly scripted, very unfairly edited, demeaning, pitiful versions of someone’s perception of the perfect woman.

• Are we trying to live vicariously through the amazing, albeit
  expensive and often painful plastic surgery transformations in order to achieve a younger self?
• Are we doing research for plastic surgery procedures we believe we might need in our encroaching dreaded “mid-life”?
• Do we hope that we too can be transformed if we have enough money, time and stick-to-it-iveness?
• Are we catty B-Atches who like to rip apart innocent (and not so innocent)
  female schleppers/schlubs for their poor taste in clothing, hairstyle (or
  lack thereof) and general poor taste?
• Does watching make me feel better about my own physical (okay, okay, okay– AND emotional) shortcomings and hang-ups? (Ties into the above bullet point…)

All of the above would be my answer. For me, the reasons are many that I watch
these shows – these days though, mostly as a guilty pleasure. The reason why starts in a
land long ago, a time far away– remember – I turn 40 this year