I was 15 in 1969, and Woodstock was very close to where I was born and raised. My dear sweet lovely hippie boyfriend at the time was headed to the nice folk festival, and I debated joining him and being grounded for a very long time, and decided that it wasn't worth the price I would pay with the parents. We had no clue it would become what it became. He went; I didn't. 36 years ago and still on my very short list of regrets. By the time I realized my error there was no way to get there. Still, when I see the footage I see my kinfolk and feel the comfort of home. Stupid not being able to do over.

Oh yeah, Laura. It is stupid. I usually try to just learn from my regrets, and not keep thinking of them as regrets, but there are a handful for which I'd like do-overs.

...

I got my first cell phone for Mother's Day, when Christopher was just a couple of weeks old. Soon after, Scott had to go to London on business for a week, leaving me NOT IN LONDON DARN IT, but home--home with a newborn, an 18 month old little girl, and a four year old little boy. The cell phone manual disappeared. In truth, I probably accidentally chucked it, when getting rid of all the ads and booklets the hospital sends home with you, when you've had a new baby. I never did figure out how to do most things on it, including setting up my voice mail.

I got a new phone a couple of years ago. I think it was shortly before we moved, but I can't remember. I started learning the manual. Then Scott asked to take my phone, because he brings one to work, and didn't like way the belt clip worked on his. He took it, and I couldn't find his manual. Eventually, we switched back, and the one that was originally his broke. He got a new one. When I got the manual out for mine, it was missing some of the more pertinent pages. *sigh* I'm destined to only ever half learn any phone.

I got a Sidekick fairly recently. I normally just keep pushing buttons until it does what I want. I have not, however, figured out how to disconnect from the web when I'm done surfing. I just turn the phone off and then turn it back on. Of course I have not RTFM.

There are a number of companies that now put the manuals for cellphones et al on the web as pages or PDFs... it seems useful to try, especially for something like a Sidekick which is fairly popular.

I'm wearing my mini right now! And it's fucking great!

I'm wearing my mini right now!

The other day we were doing finish work on a house, so a lot of painting and really tedious detailed stuff. I normally have my mini with me, but I never bring it on site because I want to hear when people yell to "Move!" or "Watch out!" or "Headache!" But since this was just painting and stuff, I had it strapped to my arm with the headphone cord coming up through my collar and jammed out while I painted the house, made it go by much faster.

I have named the new iPod mini "Bob". Actually, I'm finding the interface on =that= more daunting than the phone, even.

I found my iPod's interface very quickly became very intuitive.

I'm wearing my mini right now!

IIFG?

I still want an iPod. But I bought paints instead.

I have named the new iPod mini "Bob".

iBob.

'iBob. 'ow's it goin'?

eta: Sorry, have not had caffeine yet. Am still fulfilling my cat-petting duties.

I want a cute new phone, but not enough to pay for it. A friend of mine was trying to call me an early-adopter yesterday, but I pointed out that is not true of gadget-y things, because I'm cheap!

I'm back from McDonalds. Why does my cat require still more petting?

Allyson's phone is indeed terribly, terribly cute. And part of me is imagining how much more unbearably cute it would be if that link she posted were actual size. It'd have to have an attachment like a very slender lacquered chopstick on a sterling silver chain to push the wee little buttons with, but OH SO CUTE.

On a vaguely related topic, and in the spirit of public service and preventing the taller Buffistas from looking faintly ridiculous, I must beg any Buffista over, say, 6'3", to refrain from getting one of those fancy slim slender credit-card-sized I-can't-believe-how-tiny-it-is! cellphones. The other day I saw a big huge Goliath of a man trying to dial a number on just such a cell, all gleaming and high-tech and expensive looking; unfortunately, he was so large and it was so small that he looked less like a man on the phone than a bear trying to shell a walnut. It lacked dignity.