Today I manipulated some photos one of my clients sent me, massaging them in Photoshop to make a background for a business card. I created the business card, with all the lettering.
I printed out a color flyer I’d created in InDesign. I wrote a marketing letter to prospective clients in MS Word. I typed out a mailing list in Excel with 40 addresses I got out of my local Chamber directory, then used Word’s mail merge feature to merge the addresses and salutations with the letter. After that, I used the Avery Wizard on the same list, to create mailing labels, which I printed out on several sheets of Avery labels I had on hand.

Man, I love computers!
It was a funny idea, that the ‘engine’ of your body might quit. That you had a fuel tank of sharply limited size, and if you got between distant gas stations and ran out, you were just … gone. That from the day of your birth, you have to frantically keep fueling yourself, and you dare not take chances about it.
In five minutes we were smothered in swirling, blinding snow. I could see about four feet in front of me. I could make out my partner’s tracks in the snow ahead, but absolutely nothing else.
On the second full moon of the new year of 1975, there was another fateful knock on my door. Captain Goosebag was looking for a partner for an overnight cross-country ski trip.
In a previous post, where I listed adventures I’ve had, and adventures I plan to have, I mentioned briefly “Go cross-country skiing under the full moon (I almost died)” as one of my past adventures.
You’ll notice the name at the top of this page is now “Earthman’s Notebook,” instead of www.patheos.com/blogs/acitizenofearth. (I know it’s a bit hard to read. I’m trying to figure out how to add a drop shadow or something, to make it more readable.)
I stumbled across the title phrase of this post today, and Googled it. I found several lists and scrolled through them.
I’m new at this meme thing, but I’m gonna try it anyway.
Let’s say someone gave you $30,000, in cash, and the deal was, you had to live on it as long as you could. You couldn’t do any other income-producing work in that time, you just had to live on the 30 grand.
Thinking about a commenter on another blog I read, a fellow so aggressively obtuse he could piss off Mother Teresa. Rather than post this there, where he can whine that I’m being unfair to poor, poor him, I’m putting it here: