We're still working on getting the broadband connections set up at the new place. Supposedly the signal strength is low on some cable or another, and so the only connection the guy was able to set up was the one in Daughter's bedroom. We'd planned on letting her have a computer of her own anyway, but it sure would be nice if we had access to the internet as well! The solution seems to be spending a icky amount of money to have Some Guy (i.e. independent contractor) come in an install some sort of routing system and network--which will also supposedly have the benefit of allowing us to put all the computers under one internet account instead of having to have a separate one for each computer.

Whatever. I am so not technical enough to know what is needed. So we sigh and write the check. Blergh. Hopefully all the shit will get installed today so that I can move my computer to the new house.

We also have to hire an electrician to come out and install a cable box in one of the walls in the living room since the only cable outlet in the living room is on the opposite wall from where we have the entertainment center--and not only would the entertainment center look really silly crunched in next to the shelves and fireplace (where the cable jack actually is) but there's no way to snake a cable around the room without looking really trashy. And, the room is paneled in a gorgeous wood, with stone floors, and heavy beams on the ceiling... it's beautiful and very solidly built, which is making it a slight bitch to do things the way we want to. I personally don't see why it isn't possible to come down through the attic with some of this shit, but... hey, what do I know?

Since we moved, the Daughter now supposedly has to ride a different bus to and from school. I say supposedly because she has yet to ride the new bus. So far she has managed to wheedle a ride from one of us to her old busstop (where her best friend catches the bus), and neither of us have complained too much since there've been so many changes in the family lately, why add one more upheaval? (And, it's only a mile away.) But the other morning Jack came back from dropping her off, sighing and shaking his head.

"I dropped her off at the busstop, and just before she got out of the car she turned to me... and I expected her to say something like, 'I love you, Dad!' or 'Have a great day at work, Dad!'..." He gave another deeply tragic sigh. "No.. she just looked at me... shook her head and rolled her eyes and said with great disdain, 'Nice hair.'"

I had to explain to Jack that in Teenager-speak that was a high compliment and expression of love, since by noticing that his hair was not up to her standards, she did, in fact, acknowledge his existence.

She still does not forgive me for the fact that my hair is something akin to frightful when I go running in the mornings, and I usually tie a bandanna around my head which is even more terrible in her eyes. I told Jack that I'm thinking of getting a t-shirt to wear for running that says, "I AM [daughter's name]'S STEPMOTHER!

That would show her!