June 29, 2001
Extremely Cold Turkey


As the *To Do List* posted on our kitchen cabinet continues to magically dwindle away, from three carefully-typewritten pages to a couple of haphazardly-scribbled Post-It notes, I'm finding that a lot of my wedding-preparation panic is gradually being replaced by a reassuring sense of order and accomplishment.

At the moment, these are the main items still remaining on the list:

  • Shoes for David and Terri!
  • Write our vows (or else find suitable readings, 2-3 minutes apiece)
  • Gift for Best Man?
  • David needs to finish the after-ceremony mix tape(s)!

Personally, I would also like to drop another 15 pounds, find a pair of pearl earrings exactly like the ones I wore to my father's wedding in 1983 and crochet a commemorative afghan for each and every one of our wedding guests. (As soon as I teach myself to crochet, I mean.) But I'll settle for knocking off the rest of the stuff on my half of the To Do List.

It's this last item on the Ю僱êrvØ¡ side of the list, however, that is causing me the greatest anxiety right now. It says:

  • Talk to Gary about the laptop!!!   PLEASE!!

My little Toshiba laptop has been on the fritz for a year now, ever since we brought it home from our trip to TicTac last summer for Jaymi's high school graduation. This is one of those long, deadly-dull stories that I generally don't like to write about on *FootNotes* -- I'd much rather bore you with bike chat and tales of embarrassing bodily functions -- but for the moment let's just say that we've been trying to restore the laptop to full functionality for twelve months, and for twelve months it has pretty much been resisting our efforts. Right now I suspect that the modem is fried. (David think it's the parallel flange indicators again, but what does he know?) We need to get someone knowledgeable and competent and generous (read this: someone who'll do it for free) to take a look at the fudking thing and tell us whether we need a new modem, or a new laptop altogether.

I reminded David about it the other night. "Will we be able to get Gary to look at the laptop?" I asked hopefully.

Gary is David's friend from high school, and our personal computer guru. Unfortunately, he lives far enough away that "going to see Gary" is a complicated and time-consuming undertaking, requiring most of a Saturday, a lengthy drive and a lot of time spent sitting around in a garage listening to a couple of middle-aged guys talking about high school.

"I'm not sure there's going to be enough time," David replied.

My heart sank. No computer on our trip?? All along I've entertained this lovely vision of me sitting in our hotel room in the mornings ... wearing something diaphanous and frilly, sipping a latte, listening to birds sing outside our window, typing adorable little *FootNotes Honeymoon* updates. (Yesterday David and I rented a paddleboat: ate lunch in the middle of the lake. Later in the afternoon we visited the Whalebone Corset Museum. Dinner -- strawberries and cheese in the jacuzzi.) This was going to be my wedding gift to myself, and to all of the loyal readers who have stuck with me through seven months' worth of ring-chat, dress shopping horror stories and stoopid Wedding Anxiety Dreams: a sweet, comprehensive, up-to-the-minute account of the wedding and the honeymoon, as it happens.

Now what was I going to do?

For the past couple of days I've been considering my options. I can cry and pout and flounce around until I get my way and we go see Gary. I can finish maxing out my puny little credit cards and buy a cheap laptop. (Christmas presents are overrated anyway ... right, kids??) I can make some phone calls to TicTac: does anyone rent laptops by the day? I can gamble that the modem is, indeed, the problem ... place an online order for a new one ... and then pray that it 1.) arrives in time, 2.) that it solves the problem, and 3.) that it wasn't the parallel flange indicators, after all.

Or we could try something really radical, David suggested, and not bring a computer along on the honeymoon at all. "You could write your journal entries by hand," he said, "and then transcribe them when we get home."

Ten whole days without a cyber connection?

No e-mail? No message boards? No AOL? No cheesy daily horoscope delivered right to my mailbox?

And no *FootNotes* ... ?

I looked at David doubtfully. Could we handle ten days without a computer? We're both pretty dependent on our daily cyber fix: he with his message boards and his bootleg websites, me with my journal stuff and my e-mail. It would sorta be like asking us to give up air. Could we do it? Could we stand to be unplugged that long? Or would we go into withdrawal after a couple of days, and start doing weird shidt like ordering room service and watching HBO and arguing over those little bottles of hotel shampoo ... eventually killing each other totally dead out of sheer cyber-deprivation-induced boredom?

David smiled. "Oh, I don't know," he said. "I can think of some things we could do to pass the time." And he leaned over and whispered a few of them in my ear.


I'm still not convinced that I want to be unplugged from everything for that long. And I'm going to continue trying to figure out some way to get the laptop running. (Who knows? Maybe they've got one of those *Internet Cafe* things in Podunk, Washington.) But just in case ... I'm adding the following to the To Do List:

  • Buy travel journal ... and pen.

Have a great weekend, everybody!

p.s. congratulations to my lovely and courageous daughter #2 for her graduation from rehab this week. you are recovering your health and your potential, and WE are recovering our daughter/sister/granddaughter/niece/friend. It's win-win for everybody. i love you.

p.p.s. congratulations also to son # only, who not only managed to graduate from ninth grade without incident (or incarceration) but who ALSO managed to cash in his cdnow gift certificate finally. (and after only THREE attempts! yay, kyle!)

p.p.p.s. congratulations, finally, to daughter #1, for inventing a new AOL screen name that does NOT contain the words "pimp," "ho," "daddy," "mack," "cRaZeE," "sExEe," "trojan" or "circus midget."

p.p.p.p.s. special note to joy in cleveland: i would LOVE to hear from you, joy! (and to have your e-mail address.) when you get a chance, could you please drop me a note?

p.p.p.p.p.s. of course i'm only kidding. i'll be just fine on my honeymoon without a computer. it's you guys that i'm worried about. how will you live without *footnotes* for two weeks?

one year ago: friendly franz!
three years ago: fan envy

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