My email spam is taking an almost frantic turn. "Your account has been violated!" Um, tut alors, dude. It's a defcon-alert step up from "Your account may have been used by unauthorized persons" but somehow I remain calm.
Just this morning some kind soul wanted to let me in on a great deal: Macromedia Suite at "wholesale pricing". Isn't that special? Adobe's deep-sixed that line, but hey, what a bargain! Can't beat that with a stick. No matter how much you may want to.
Back in Real Consumerland, Nola and I trudged off this morning to shop till we dropped, geek-style. First stop: Westworld on Homer, where I intended to do no more than stick in my head, say, "Two Tigers, please," and get on to the next task. There was a sign on the window, "No dogs allowed in today, tigers in store" which we took to be cutesy marketing.
It was not. It was the bald, unadulturated truth. There were two adolescent tigers on a platform in the back, and if you wanted, you could have your picture taken with them. There were folks there with their own mobile tigertreats (cough) small children, posing next to a tiger for the camera. The sales guy offered me a chance at immortality, but I declined. I'm so stodgy. While one of the tigers was pretty much sleeping through the proceedings, the other was not. Unhappy, he was, and kept up a constant grumble to get that point across. He didn't want to be there. He didn't want to be tied to the platform with chains. He didn't like any of the people who were crowding around. He was feeling just a bit stressed, and I couldn't blame him. Not that I was about to go anywhere near him; we got our boxes and headed off to the next stop.
Very unexciting, just the post office to mail in our tax forms for the year. That's when things got fun, though, since we passed by a Telus store (on Georgia) and I ducked in to talk to them about a new phone for me, and a new number and phone for Nola. We've been sharing my phone for the last few years, and that was getting cumbersome, which I noticed last week when she had the phone while off teaching, and I, seeing a fine, fine afternoon before me, headed out on my bike to a grassy slope near Stanley Park where I could watch the herons and the ships in the bay, and sit on the grass, sketch a little. I left Nola a note and she knew where I was, but there was no way she could get in touch with me. So I've been wanting to do something about that.
The saleswoman was extremely patient and helpful, and bargained with Telus to get me the new-customer discount, and I waited while Nola picked through the available phones till she was happy with one, and said, "Give me one of those, too." Nola's a dab hand at sorting through stuff like that. Me, I wanted a bluetooth phone, but the only one they had was one that came with cadillac bells and whistles, and cost the earth, and all I wanted was a basic phone, but with bluetooth. So nuts to that; there's a lot to be said for us both having the same model, anyway. Then the nice saleswoman dug through our internet account and straightened it out so that it costs half what we were paying, which in effect covers the cost of the phones. And, in theory, is faster.
So now Tiger's running cheerily on the Pismo, which is the oldest Mac we have in use, and we're both brain-fried on technology overload, and on new! shiney!, but we think we made it through the day with no mis-steps. And maybe tomorrow I can get Nola to program my phone.
decompressing to the strains of Dead Man's Hill from the album "Swamp Ophelia" by Indigo Girls