But I don't care because our new computer arrived on Friday. It's a beauty, a G4 with a fast processor, plenty of memory and a big honkin' hard drive. John and I both exclaim over how quickly everything boots up. Starting Photoshop used to take upwards of 2 minutes on our Performa; it takes approximately 5 seconds now. We can see millions of colors on our browser, instead of mere thousands. We need a couple of cables and adapters to complete our setup the way we want, but a quick trip to the Mac store will take care of that, and then laissez les bons temps roulez, baby.

I don't care if there's bigger, faster machines out there, you know. This was the limit of what we could afford, and considering we're still hoping to buy a house it seems almost extravagant. We were able to keep the price down by ordering a customized version of the midrange G4's. Even without all possible bells and whistles we think we have enough speed and power to last another five years before we have to buy up again. Boy, things change so fast in the world of technology. I can't give away our Performa 6214 for love or money. It was top of the line in 1994. It's useless for the Internet now, good only for offline applications like word processing and playing solitaire. It's essentially a big typewriter.

The saga of the storm-drenched plants continues. I went out this morning to examine everything (I hate not being able to see my garden after work all winter long) and discovered a foul smell emanating from my largest containers, the ones that had had the standing water in them on Wednesday. I nearly retched as I tipped them carefully on their sides trying to get more water out. It was like standing over a slowly draining manure pile. The soil was still liquified from all the water trapped in the bottom. John got out his drill and and helped me by drilling some holes in the bottom of the containers, so he, too, got to experience the vile odor of decay. I've solved the drainage problem at last, but I fear it is too late for most of what's in there. I'm so mad. All that money wasted, and such beautiful bulbs, too.

I didn't plant crocus like my fellow gardener Xeney last year, so it'll be a while yet before I see blooms on my spring bulbs which survived the storm, but most of the other plants are peeping above ground or bursting forth into glorious flower. I'm thrilled to see the first signs of my little mousetail plant, and the dicentra has a dozen pale buds poking through the soil. The large geranium is suddenly blooming, the abutilon has started dropping its red and yellow bells, and the water purslane has tiny white flowers all over it. Around the neighborhood the plum trees are in bloom, dark pink powderpuffs adorning each black branch. The tulip trees are heavy with voluptuous purple and cream blossoms. The other deciduous trees seem to be enveloped in a faint haze as tiny leaf buds start pushing forth by the thousands. I was thrilled to notice this week that it's now light out when I leave the office at 5:30. It's still pitch black by the time I get home an hour later, but lacking crocus, it's my own personal harbinger of spring.

Diane started the latest round of Bulletin Board madness. Ceej was so inspired that she set up forums for everyone at spies.com, completely gratis, including me. And only a few weeks ago I announced in my profile over at About.com that I had no interest in forums, being not particularly feedback-oriented. Ahahaha. So I was wrong. Go on, make me happy, answer a question or start a topic at the Aries Moon forum.

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