erika, that was me, and I can't adopt you; I already internet-married you, remember?

No holiday hell, over here. Just nice memories of beautiful food and occasional prezzies and things.

Liese! That sucks.

It got that way for my brother -- everytime he came home, he had to work on the car.

He used to love that sort of stuff and it started to make him hate it.

It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't every single place I go and every single person I know. ARE THERE NO OTHER GEEKS IN THE MIDWEST???

The geekier member of (my side of) the family? Moved to Africa. When he came back, he was out of stream, so asked for help.

In my head, I run a little tally. This would cost you X dollars if you took it to a qualified tech.

This would cost you X dollars if you took it to a qualified tech.

I did that too. I actually told one friend/acquaintance this, and he's started keeping track too. Every now and again, he'd just give me stuff. It has the potential to turn into a "now we're counting favours???" thing, but sometimes folk just don't understand what they're asking for, and how many other people are asking for it too.

I did read a piece by an IT guy who says that he started introducing himself as working in insurance, because then no one ever wanted him to do anything.

I will spend Christmas setting up and loading a new computer for my sister. I note that Dell would have charged her $200 to set it up. I did consider for a moment writing "computer support" on a piece of paper, putting it in a box, and wrapping it.

I am also sorting through the holiday hells in my head to find one that can be covered in 100 words.

I did read a piece by an IT guy who says that he started introducing himself as working in insurance, because then no one ever wanted him to do anything.

Hee. Thing is? Totally not in the field anymore! But does anyone accost me and demand bass lessons? No.

Anyway. Sorry for derailing the thread.

Ok, Christmas with the in-laws! Score.

I don't know if this qualifies or not.

December 2001

The kitchen at the shelter is well-equipped.

This church will feed thousands of hungry people over the next few days. Many potatoes to peel, many turkeys to prep, many vegetables to wash.

Outside, it's raining. Food's being loaded into the steam trays, servers line up, aprons tied, caps on. You don't want hair in the cranberry sauce.

Backstage, I'm wedging russets, fast. There's a tingle, numbness, and the Henckel slips and slices through the tendon of my right thumb. I stand there, amazed, blood pooling. I'm sent home.

Multiple sclerosis, unsuspected, has taken me out of the holiday charity loop.

Honey, if that ain't holiday hell, I sure don't know what is.

You don't want hair in the cranberry sauce.

Heh. That made me smirk, though.

It didn't feel like hell, though - I loved cooking there. And the MS could have tingled any time of year. It wasn't diagnosed for another seven months after that.

I just - no strong connotations to the holidays, either side of. That's why it feels a bit like fraud, writing about it.