February 18, 1992
Dear Everyone:
Today is the only day I'll have to work in the
office until next Thursday. Looking
on the bright side, today is the only day I'll have to wear a suit until
next Thursday.
Last Friday, I took home the department's notebook
PC, which I have named Ogden, for lack of anything better to call it
(“Kevin” had objected to Norman). Calling
it "the department notebook PC" takes too long.
“Ashley” and I spent a few
minutes Friday teaching Ogden how to call the IDI computer in Ohio and
charge the call to my corporate calling card.
The idea was that since it was a three-day weekend,
I could spend a little time getting to know IDI’s Records Management
software in the comfort of my own home. In
the office, I can only do this in the comfort of “Ashley” or “Miranda’s”
office, which can be a trifle inconvenient for “Ashley” and/or
“Miranda”.
I had planned for this.
Last weekend, I bought a
purchase-with-purchase from Lancôme, thus acquiring a nice big tote bag
to carry Ogden and all of his toys home with me.
Ogden doesn't travel light.
He runs on a battery; but, since
the battery runs down, you need the auxiliary power pack.
And cord.
And the mouse, in case you want
to do anything with Windows. And
the Road Warrior (yes, that's exactly what it's called) in case Ogden's
built-in modem needs help talking to the other computer.
Saturday morning, I unhooked the phone in the
dining room and stretched the cord (it's an extra long cord) out into
the living room and fitted it into Ogden's phone jack.
Then I woke up Ogden and told him
to call Ohio. Which he did, even
waiting politely for the "this is AT&T" before rattling off my 14-digit
authorization code (a lot faster than I could do it).
IDI’s computer answered.
Ogden introduced himself and we
were in. Three cheers.
After I got through the password
stage and into the environment where the Records Management software
runs, I got to the Main Menu of the new system.
That's as far as I got.
Try as we might, we couldn't get
IDI’s computer to accept "enter" from Ogden.
It worked in “Ashley's” office.
It didn't work in my living room.
Fortunately, IDI did recognize
Ogden's "Control+C" as "cancel", an emergency bailout, or I would still
be stuck at the Main Menu.
I tried using the Road Warrior, thinking maybe it
was my phone line; but it was no good. Finally,
in disgust, I gave up, went into Windows and played a game of Solitaire,
which is about the only thing I know how to do in Windows.
On Sunday, “Jeannie” and I went shopping, first at
Drug Barn (discount store) where we spent just over $50, then at
Costco (ultimate discount store)
where we spent just under $190. I
still need to figure out how much of that money “Jeannie” owes me, since
we were using my checkbook. Then
we went to see Father of the Bride.
I've never seen the original movie, so I can't
compare Steve Martin
to Spencer Tracy;
but Martin did a nice job, playing it absolutely straight.
A lot of the humor came from the
look on his face as he tries to come to grips with the fact that his
little girl is getting married and why did she have to have swans in the
front yard in order to do that? Live
swans.
“Jeannie” and I agreed that Mother would thoroughly
enjoy it and Meg probably would, too.
Martin Short plays a "wedding coordinator" with an atrocious
"German" accent. “Jeannie” kept
referring to him as "the witness from hell" as she has had to try to
take depositions from people who talk like he did.
On the way home, we stopped at
the video store to rent movies. With
the Olympics still
going on, there's nothing to watch on TV.
I spent Monday in total decadence, sitting around,
doing my nails and watching movies:
Henry V, Kenneth
Brannaugh, Derek Jacobi version;
Macbeth,
no, not Mel Gibson--would you believe Playboy magazine?;
And
A Man for All Seasons,
Charlton Heston
version. Heston finally got the
role that Paul
Scofield beat him out of by the simple tactic of having his son
produce it and directing it himself.
As for the Playboy version of
Macbeth, this was Hugh
Hefner's attempt in the early 1970s to try to improve his image with
"quality" work. Of course, he
couldn't resist having Lady Macbeth do her sleep-walking seen in the
nude; but then, I'll bet a lot of people who live in cold, drafty
Scottish castles don't wear anything to bed.
Love, as always,
Pete
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