Held off all week on commenting about Leopard at all because…
- Haven’t been “Mac-bloggin’” much these days anyway and
- there didn’t seem much to comment on…
…but that said, I felt compelled anyway. Not much to add that hasn’t been thoroughly reviewed and/or lambasted just about everywhere. The short version:
- changes to the menu bar and the Dock just seem gratuitous
- “record” in Automator may (hopefully) add some functionality I’ve been looking for
- I still don’t care about Spaces, Time Machine, Dashboard…
- …where’s the meat of this thing, anyway?
I have no doubt I’ll be upgrading (but I doubt I’ll be rushing to do so, either).
Let us start off the weekend with no agenda. Let’s do nothing and then reflect on how much we got done…
Holy crap but it all seems to pile up at once, don’t it? Pete was commenting earlier in the week about being burnt out and it being “only Tuesday” – and (in short) I could not agree more. Not then and not now. It has definitely been one of those weeks where everything seemed to happen at once and feeling crushed with that feeling of “there’s no reprieve in sight!”
With that said: I want absolutely no agenda this weekend.
And there you have it.
Spent probably five or six hours in the garden this past weekend, pulling weeds out (probably 20-30 lbs.), laying down more straw mulch, watching blossoms and fruit form on our tomato and zucchini plants. (It feels like I just washed off my hands from when we planted them… They’re growing so fast.) Getting my hands into the dirt has been a good stress reliever these past five or six days. Still sleeping like crap… But at least I was able to get to sleep most nights.
Other than gardening and feeling tired and burnt out? Redux photos of older panoramic shots.
P.W. & I are doing internships at the Capitol as (for all intents and purposes) bus boys to run meaningless errands for randomly assigned U.S. Senators. The random assignment is part of the deal, they explain — like a lesson in how you don’t always get what you want and how sometimes you need to represent people you don’t particularly care for. We’re both still pretty excited at the opportunity but they have the pages/interns corralled inside of some weird little roped-off area, crowded and uncomfortable in our cheap suits. P. & I are both selected though and the coordinator shoves us out onto the Senate floor without any real instructions. “Get moving!” he says and the next thing we know, we’re scrambling up and down the aisles, trying to keep our heads down and our bodies out of the way, looking for anyone that might need something faxed, or a glass of water refilled, or for us to kidnap a co-sponsor to some bill they’ve proposed. I wind up commandeered by the zombie Strom Thurmund who seems only to want a refill for his pitcher of water. Seems to, anyway…
