Huntin', fishin' etc

I have a virus. Well, my lap-top has. It’s very interesting from a nerdy point-of-view, in that it does several things, including starting up Internet Explorer by Itself, and randomly replacing my desk-top icons with others so Excel looks like WinWord, WinWord looks like Minesweeper etc. Unfortunately, when it opens up Internet Explorer it seems to favour Russian Porn web-sites, which wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I decided I wanted to learn a new language.

So yesterday I went off to Bloomington to get the PC checked out at the C* (all names have been changed) office there. I wanted really to check out the coffee facilities, and to also make sure I was put onto a “please allow porn” list, so that I didn’t get instant dismissal next time I logged onto the network.

The coffee was mediocre, incidentally, as the company is in a huge campus of five enormous buildings, interconnected with the ubiquitous sky-ways. Normally I wouldn’t even have needed a coat, but it transpires I had to as every two hours I had to get out and move my car as I didn’t have a parking permit. Parking violations still scare me, so much so I use Cruise Control on 30 MPH streets. It is a fact that the more I keep to the speed-limit, the more other road users are encouraged to drive a little bit more bonkers that if, say, I was doing 8 over.

Not sorted, unfortunately, so I’m going to have to send my hard-drive to Toronto (where the nearest help-desk is). Apparently Minnesota is colder than Toronto. Oh, pur-lease. Stop this jesting right this instant!
The alternative is to go back to Oz and plead my case to getting anew PC, though that might not be exactly viable, with the weather an’ all.

And I have been informed by a reliable source that a cord of wood is “about the height of a moose’s hip, dontcha know?”.

And, yes, the hunting season has started. I passed by Nelson’s our local butcher, with an A-Sign outside saying “Bring your deer here!”. The news last week was helpfully informing us of the latest in rifles, and reminding us to wear bright clothes so our buddies don’t mistake us for two-legged venison. So the chap I passed in the ute this morning with the unshaven face and the bright orange beanie HAD A RIFLE IN HIS BOOT! (trunk).

I’m steadily picking up the lingo, although in Lund’s (the supermarket) this morning , when the cashier asked “What’s this?”, holding up a pepper, I had to reply “D’uh, dunno”, as I couldn’t think of the American. All the way home I was muttering “Egg-plant, zucchini, paprika. Egg-plant, zucchini…”.

And T has officially settled in well. She asked me on the way to school why I don’t have as many friends as her. “Would you like me to tell you how to make friends, Mummy?”, “Of course. Do you just ask them to play with you?”. She sighed, and with a wisdom that belies her years, explained – “When it’s “quiet-time”, you just go and get the same activity to do as the person you want to talk to, and then sit next to them, and you see, you just start chatting”.
It looks as though I may not have successfully cancelled the snow clearing (which may be a Good thing, depending on how much Warren quotes me when he passes by later today – some bloke who does next-door’s drive), as the orange sticks have already been placed along the drive way to tell him just have far he has to dig when it snows.
The 5 foot high poles with reflectors on the top which have started to appear along-side people’s verges are not, as I first thought, thoughtful ways of letting people know where the road-side is in the dark, but to let the snow-plough know where to plough when it is 5 foot high in snow. Super.