• Adopt Firefox rather than previous/default browser
• be happy
• Between 1 and several months pass
• Things deteriorate to the point where it sucks. Opening or closing tabs takes forever. Browsing between pages (forward/back - same tab) with large amounts of content (which previously would render with pipelined speedy hotness) is painful. Actually *starting* the browser also takes forever (in the past I used to say how I’d originally switched to Firefox because I could literally start it, browse to page X, and have page X render all in the time it would take IE to render page X).

So what’s the deal? I’m guessing I’ve hit some data limit and now my form MRU, or history, or some random cache is now rearing a very ugly unoptimized critical path head. Or something? This is so not the future.

So the economy is still a disaster, but on the bright side, maybe these will be the people who have been responsible for sending me three credit card solicitations by snailmail every day for my adult life?

“My life is in God’s hands,” Palin said. “If he’s got doors open for me, that I believe are in our state’s best interest, the nation’s best interest, I’m going to go through those doors.”

Sarah Palin is relentless and unapologetic with the depth of her faith-based-lack-of-accountability. It’s stunning that anyone supports her. Even if her conviction or the strength of her faith seem compelling, surely it’s easy to see the fault in “any opportunity I see, I will take advantage of and it is God’s will that it turns out that way,” right???

Update: Now listed on craigslist, Windermere.com, and (with better pictures!) my agent’s site.

Jupiter, originally uploaded by Peru Tha Damaja.

You meowed quietly and stretched your legs when I picked you up from the ratty old basement chair, covered in fur and old bits of thrown up food. We looked around at the cracked yellow floor you’d walked across thousands of times and said goodbye to the swinging door I cut for you to make nighttime escapes. You said goodbye to the rows of fenced-in backyards that you’d indiscriminately considered your home for the past 8 years, your entire life, and went up the stairs, you cradled in my arms.

We stopped for a moment and went upstairs. Would you like to say goodbye to the lady, fast asleep, in whose restless lap you liked to try to find a comfy resting place? The dog made you too anxious to stay long and then headed back down to the entry way, stripped of its familiar golden trim. You eyed the box, your least favorite place to spend any time and I coaxed you inside, meowing with more apprehension.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, little friend, I’m sorry but it has to be.”

“meow…”

You waited, unquietly, while I tethered the dog, whose excitement for any trip to anywhere would always be predictable and eventually I brought you with us out to the larger metal box where forces would jostle you around impolitely.

You reminded me of the first trip over five years ago when your breathing had grown strained and on our way to the doctor who would inspect your small, frail lungs and learn you suffered asthma, preparing you for a lifetime of forced puffs - one in the morning, one at night - to alleviate that struggle as we made our way north.

“meow”

“I know, I’ll miss it too.”

“meow”

“It won’t be long, I promise.”

I let you loose to explore the metal box for the rest of the trip. Your big friend lay quietly in the back as the streetlights streamed in, over, and past while you explored the front seat, armrest, and floor.

And eventually the box stopped - I opened the door, and you went out to explore your new home just past midnight.

“meow”

“I know - it’s not the same, but you’ll make friends. You always do.”