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.

OK, this is way, way too long, but it's the only holiday hell scene I can think of from any of my novels, and I can't think how to shorten it and still get the meaning across:

24 December 1811

James looks harried. “Sorry to make you such a poor welcome, but Lucy is in labor.”

She embraces her brother and opens her mouth to inquire after Lucy’s progress. But James pushes her to arm’s length and touches her abdomen. “This is unexpected, but we have room at the inn.”

Footsteps hurrying downstairs, and then framed in the doorway is the last person she wants to see. Why is her mother-in-law here?

“Oh, Anna, my dear child! I heard you were come!” Lady Windham’s eyes widen. “Oh, Anna! A baby? This is beyond wonderful!”

Her knees wobble and her vision blurs, but she refuses to faint. She’s been through worse than this.

James’s arm tightens, upholding her. “Lady Windham, will you go and see how Lucy does?” he asks.

When she is gone, he steers her to a chair. “So. It’s not Sebastian’s, is it?”

She meets his eyes and is relieved to find no judgment there. “No.”

Good stuff from everyone! What a great group. I'm very happy to have found this.

Oh, Susan. I can't wait 'til your books are published. Also? Insent from my gmail address. If you don't get it, please let me know.