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Weary of Pink

SnuggieIf you left your house during last month, you likely saw products emblazoned with pink ribbons grace the shelves of grocery and retail outlets. You turned on the TV and saw NFL teams playing in pink shoes and socks. October has been designated “breast cancer awareness month,” but selling pink merchandise under the guise of awareness amounts to little else than being a subtle way of using sex to sell and to get money from well-meaning consumers.

One day in early October, I walked through the Mall of America and was barraged by pink. It was impossible to escape. Nearly every store was selling something specifically for breast cancer awareness. Later that same day, I stopped at a Walgreens location and discovered that there was even a pink Snuggie.

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I have been without access to my phone’s address book and other data functions since last Friday. Such outages aren’t unheard of, but have never lasted longer than a day in the past. In the meantime, I finally got a new contract with Android-powered phone and rumors circulated that service would be back soon. I waited for my contacts to become available so I could transfer them to my new phone, and then I could ditch the Sidekick and let the prepaid account fade away.

Today, T-Mobile finally admitted that all of our data is gone:

Regrettably, based on Microsoft/Danger’s latest recovery assessment of their systems, we must now inform you that personal information stored on your device – such as contacts, calendar entries, to-do lists or photos – that is no longer on your Sidekick almost certainly has been lost as a result of a server failure at Microsoft/Danger.

(The way it works is that while your information is on your phone, it’s not really stored there, it’s in the cloud. You sign-in to your account and the phone downloads your contacts. You can replace your phone without having to worry about contacts because they are stored in the cloud. However, if something happens to the cloud, you’re screwed.)

Too bad there’s probably something in fine print somewhere that prevents anyone from being sued over this.

"The Hypaethral Temple, Philae" by Francis Frith, 1857

"The Hypaethral Temple, Philae" by Francis Frith, 1857

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“They don’t know I am here… I don’t really know what to tell them.”
“Just say you went on vacation!”
Everyone at the table laughs; this is nobody’s idea of a vacation. This was our last resort.

There is a stigma attached to spending several hours per day, for weeks at a time, on a psychiatric floor. One of the more universal concerns expressed at the program is that inevitably, you will be asked to explain your disappearance to people in your life–family, friends, co-workers. I haven’t come up with a good answer yet.

I don’t really have anything to hide; I just want to make sure nobody thinks I am some loose cannon prone to snowballing out of control. It’s just that I’ve got some shit I’ve been worrying over, I am trying to deal with in the present and as well as the past. But you don’t have to worry about me. I’m going to be okay.

The Feline Visitor

Feline visitor

This strange feline visitor climbed up the fence between our house and the neighbors’ and leaped 3-4 feet across to the top of our driveway. It kept watching us until it turned away, jumped, and shimmied down the sloping concrete along the side of the driveway. There have been more cats roaming the neighborhood since it got warmer out. Our indoor cats are both horrified and fascinated.

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