…but instead I've dug my old visor prism out of the depths of my desk drawer, so I can set it up for Fuzzy. I even found the minstrel modem that goes with it, and both are blinking on my desk.
Much as I like the sleekness of the Palm Tungsten, the Handspring PDA's are better when it comes to connectivity. There isn't a minstrel that works on Palms, as far as I can tell. And while there is a cable that connects to a cell phone, I hate that concept.
Still, it's not like I need to be able to have yahoo chat on a PDA. I'm not usually away from regular access. Even here at the house without our t1 installed, we've rigged internet connection sharing, and my at&t account is giving us impressive speeds (better than Earthlink, I'm afraid.)
We didn't do much this weekend, I was tired, and in a nesting mood, so we slept and read and watched movies. For the record, I liked the CGI in Reign of Fire but the movie itself seemed more like watching a badly constructed video game, and a waste of the talents of the cast. I quite enjoyed Glengarry GlenRoss, but when you consider that the cast included Jack Lemmon, Alan Arkin, Ed Harris, Al Pacino, and Kevin Spacey, can that be a surprise. I hadn't realized it was as old as it was however – the fact that these guys use pay phones and not cell phones really dates the movie. The third movie, one Fuzzy didn't watch any of, was Kissing Jessica Stein which was quirky and funny but the lead actress's voice was in that annoying high pitched “I've been stuck in academia too long” range that really grates on my nerves. Still, there are far worse things I could've watched, and it had some hilarious moments.
Last week I spilled an entire glass of water on my bedside table, and this week I couldn't find the Christmas cards I'd done, and managed to convince myself that I'd thrown them out when we were cleaning up my little flood. I went to Borders in Santana Row, partly to check it out (I'm in love with Santana Row, right now, and will be spending next Saturday at the Aveda/Altiera salon there, getting a cut and color and manicure before France), but mostly to add more Christmas cards to those I had left.
We didn't find any, so went to Barnes and Noble instead, where I was very strong, and only bought the cards I thought I needed and one book, Quentins, by Maeve Binchy. It's a quasi-sequel to Scarlet Feather and Tara Road, and yet it's also completely its own book.
Of course when I got home I realized that I'd zipped the completed cards into my dayplanner, and then I felt stupid. But I redid my list, and realized I needed the extras anyway.
Tomorrow: Work. In the meantime, I'm leafing through magazines trying to figure out WHAT to do with my hair. Fuzzy says I should leave it long, but men /always/ say that.
It's nearly three AM, and the blue christmas lights on the house are glimmering like a veil of stars outside the window. The dogs, having spent the entire night fighting over the last inch of Cleo's piece of ostritch bone, are curled on the ottoman, waiting to be told it's time for bed, which I'm going to do now.