The purpose of this blog entry is not to entertain, nor is it intended to improve my writing skills in anyway (something that I strive to do on most blog entries, though it probably doesn’t show). No, the purpose of this blog entry is purely mechanical, as I am using this blog entry to document something that I am feeling right now.

First of all, before I document this bit of documentation, I must say that I am hoping that Apple just forgot to mail my invitation to the announcement they’re having next week, because I’d really like to get one of those invitations someday and I was hoping that it would be this occasion. I must be on a mailing list, somewhere.

Now, onto the documentation.

I am not going to buy an iPad3 or whatever it is called when it is announced at the event I won’t be at next week. Now some may counter that I said the exact same thing about the original iPad when it was announced and I was horrified by the name of the nifty little device that I am currently typing my blog entry on. I said last night that I wanted an iPad3, but I got ‘the look’ that only a spouse can get from his husband, and he knew that I was really joking.

Heh heh. Such a card.

In all actuality, I don’t want an iPad3 or whatever it is called. I haven’t worn out my original generation iPad yet and quite frankly an iPad3 is not really in the budget. We have much more pressing things to do with our millions, like change the world, tighten up the house plumbing and install a hot tub. Oh, and hire mostly naked men with beards and mustaches (or both!) to be our “house staff”.

In reality, I should put my money where my mouth is and make do with what I have until I can make do no more. There’s nothing wrong with my original iPad and I wouldn’t really gain anything by buying the latest and greatest at this point. Plus, I believe in my heart of hearts that something beautiful is going to come out in the Linux world someday and I need to hold on to that hope and put my money where my mouth is.

So, you have read it here. I am not interested in purchasing an iPad3 or whatever it is called. Please remind me of that the next time you see me in the Apple store.


The jet black hair betrayed the age shown by the rest of her outward appearance. She had leaped out of the passenger side of an old Mercury that was parked right next to the front door of my favorite Dunkin Donuts. In fairness, the Mercury sagged more than she did, but I think they both wore garments of wood grain.

The Mercury was parked in a spot that was traditionally reserved for foot traffic, but in a snowstorm such as this, anything goes. She was just getting to the counter as I came up behind her to wait in line for my turn to place an order. I could already see my iced tea being assembled by the very capable counter people.

“I’ll have six dozen donuts, mixed”, the woman with the jet black hair barked out. I realize that I say “barked out” a lot on my blog, but she didn’t have a quiet voice nor did she have a pleasant voice. Barking something out is how I hear a lot of people place orders in establishments such as Dunkin’ Donuts. To me it sounds something like the canine variety of sounds typically heard when dogs are gossiping with one another. Barking is not a condemnation, it just appropriately describes how I hear this woman in wood grain.

“SIX dozen?” the girl at the register asked.

“Yes, six.”

“Oh, having a party tonight?” Pleasant conversation is always a good path to take when trying to have a pleasant retail experience.

“No”, she said. “My husband and I are worried about the snow storm tonight and we want to make sure that we’re stocked up.”

Apparently someone had already purchased all the loaves of bread and gallons of milk at the nearby Mini-Mart.

“They say this storm could last through tomorrow.”

I stifled a knowing laugh. People think I’m critical of the folks that live in these parts. I’ve been accused of being downright ridiculous. But this blog entry was just writing itself.

“Make one of the dozen all jelly!” Ok, the bark was replaced by a bit of a squeal with that one. Delight should always be recognized.

“Is today a cookie day?” My iced tea was ready and I was being herded over to another register while the six dozen donuts were being assembled.

“Not today”, I replied. “I have cookies at home.”

We’re ready for the storm.