Thursday at lunchtime I went and bought SuSE 9.0 Linux from Best Buy for $50. I have been trying to get it going on the laptop ever since–mostly successfully.
Finding little annoying things like can’t get the wireless network card to work, or that I can use either the touchpad or the mouse but not both, or that the battery monitor doesn’t work correctly.
(Ironically, another site that I watch has an entry today about the battery thing, and even though they were trying something else, it probably explains more or less my problem.)
Everything takes a long time because I am so rusty on my Linux, but there is no question that things are a lot easier out-of-the-box then they were almost ten years ago when I originally played around with it.
Now I am tackling putting XP back on the laptop a la duel boot and have time to write while the hard drive formats.

Liam is signed up for baseball now, motivated by the baseball mania across the street. Something that I never understood. I have never been able to hit a baseball with a bat, still can’t. Too three-dimensional for me. I was just pitching to him in the backyard. He’s able to make contact with the ball–off to a great start.
He and I went to Target and bought a basketball this morning after church. Jean, the retired lady a couple of houses down, has a great basketball hoop in her driveway and has said that we can use it. So L. and his buddy/nemesis S. from across the street shot baskets for awhile. Then they ended up over here for a while.
Just after I commented to Dorothea about how well they were getting on, there was a commotion on the front porch as they started yelling and throwing chess pieces at each other. D. and I had to do some heavy duty parenting.
Someone talked today about their son having Asberger’s syndrome, about how that was a gift in this regard: that particular someone doesn’t take for granted what’s going on with other people. She said something to the effect that when she says hello to someone and they look down, they aren’t this or that. Maybe they have Asberger’s.
I don’t, but I do have a great empathy for the inability to pick up on subtle social cues. For all I know, I am no better at that then I am at hitting a baseball.
That understanding put into a better perspective the cocktail party that Dorothea and I attended last night, the silent auction fundraiser for our children’s school. Some people are friendly; some are not. I don’t get the banter thing, unless I am very comfortable, and that limits my sphere.
I talked Dorothea into taking the city bus to the gathering. (They were still on strike last Sunday when I went to the Twins game, otherwise I would have taken the bus there too.)
So we went out into the drizzle with our dollar bills, change, and umbrella and took the bus. Also I wanted to drink at the party and like the idea of not having to drive home. The bus ride home was really weird, though.
A woman came on the bus, and she had three children with her–a one year-old in a stroller, a three year-old and a six year-old (best guess). She was immediately cursing white women, a lot of f-words and b-words. And it was clear the the white woman bus driver was the target of the vitrole.
The woman set herself and the children up in the sit right in front of us, and pretty much kept up her cursing. The two littlest children fell asleep; the boy, sitting on the seat next to her, pulled his jacket up over his head. The bus driver looked back often. Both D. and I were at a lose for what to do. It would have been very appropriate for the bus driver to call the cops on the woman, who was probably stoned.
Terrible for the children either way, being with that or being taken away.
Boy, do I know how to show a date a good time or what?