As you may know (at this point I’m just making fun of myself because I’ve told you this 100 times) the hard drive on my MacBook died.
I have a 13-inch, late 2008 aluminum MacBook, running Lion (not Mountain Lion). It’s not even an Air or a Pro or anything, just a MacBook. Now that I think about it, that’s kind of old in computer terms, but it does what I need it to do (download and listen to music, occasionally sharpen and enhance my shitty pictures in iPhoto, talk shit on the internet). Plus I like it and although I happily spend wads of cash on shit like chicken coop supplies and a goddamn Vitamix blender (this ridiculousness is not sponsored but holy sweet Jesus and Mary Chain that thing has changed my life and I don’t know that I could even attempt veganism without it), I am pretty stubborn about not replacing things — especially $$$ things like computers and cars — until it’s absolutely positively necessary.
So when my hard drive died, I ordered a new one (this one, no affiliate link). And waited for it to arrive. Then it arrived and Ben was going to put it in for me because he has replaced hard drives and I haven’t . . . and one of the tiny little screws that you have to take out to release the old hard drive was in so tightly we needed a new screwdriver to get it out because we didn’t have the right one. So then we got a new screwdriver.
And then Ben did a bunch of shit to fix my computer and then this thing I’d never heard of happened. It’s called a kernel panic and apparently is very bad. You turn on your computer and hope it’ll work what with your fancy new hard drive and all, and you get this:
That’s some Lost shit right there. Next a polar bear will run through my house and the whole thing will implode in fiery magnetized chaos.
Then Ben did some more shit Wednesday night when I was out having someone poke my skin with needles, which was far more pleasant than being home worrying about my computer. (The good news is my tattoo is finally finished, pix soon.) He reinstalled Lion and tried to restore from Time Machine. He did some other stuff. It was all kernel panic all the time in here. I started to worry that I was going to need a new hard drive or, worse yet, a new computer. Or that I’d have to go to the Genius Bar, which I’m sure is incredibly expensive.
So then I did some shit. I installed, in order, every operating system the computer had ever known: Leopard, then Snow Leopard, then Lion. This took hours. (Also, if you ever purchase on OS from the App Store on your computer, be sure to burn a copy. I tried to get Lion from the App Store, which is how I originally got it, and apparently it’s no longer available in the U.S. store.)
Then Ben and I had a festive argument regarding whether I should restore my computer from my last backup on Time Machine (I backup sporadically on an external hard drive) or do Migration Assistant. I wanted to do Time Machine, because after all this shit, I just wanted my computer to be what it was (in January, when I last backed up) and Ben said he’d do Migration Assistant, because there was less chance of fucking something up and it would be more “clean.” So I did Migration Assistant and went to bed.
The next morning, I awoke to . . . a bunch of shit. Migration Assistant is an asshole. What it did was transfer over a lot of crap, like Photoshop and other Adobe shit I haven’t been able to use since I upgraded to Lion. (I decided long ago never to pay for Photoshop again because I just don’t use it and find it incredibly tedious.) It didn’t transfer things I actually use, such as Firefox, or any of my shit. I opened iPhoto and it was empty. There were no documents. There was no kernel panic, which was awesome, but there was nothing else, either. It was like all the power went out and I was going to have to make fire and wear cobbled-together leather clothes and learn to use a sword while unexplainably always having very clean and shiny hair.
So Thursday morning I said fuck it all I’m restoring from my Time Machine backup. That took about two hours.
And you know what? It worked. It was like it was January again. All 19,999 of my photos were back! My random “stuff” folder, filled with shit I’ll probably never look at again except for the picture of the sugar skull Chihuahua that might serve as inspiration for my next tattoo, was back!
What wasn’t back was all my music, but that’s a pretty easy fix. To get music back after your hard drive crashes, do two things. First, if you bought anything from iTunes, you can download it again. For all the shit you got elsewhere and have on your iPhone but not your computer, you can use Senuti (itunes spelled backward). (Just make sure before you do this, you go into iTunes and turn off automatic synching.)
And there you have a super-annoying but effective $63 fix for your broken-ass old MacBook and all is good and right in the world and from now on you will back up your shit more often.
- As you may know, the hard drive on my MacBook died. Last night, Ben installed a new hard drive and now the computer doesn’t work at all because it has a kernel panic every time it’s turned on.
- I hadn’t backed anything up since January because I’m a lazy, irresponsible dumbass.
- The passion with which I miss my functional MacBook (namedropping Apple again because I have a clunky work laptop at home but can’t bear the thought of recreational PC use) possibly indicates a serious deficiency in my character.
- My iPhone (have you gotten the point that I like Apple products) is out of storage space, so I can’t even take pictures unless I delete stuff and I have no functional computer onto which to transfer things and thereby free up space.
- I have the complexion of a stereotypical 13-year-old boy who brings audio/visual equipment to your classroom.
- While running around outside like a total nutball this morning, Soren wiped out and scraped the hell out of his elbow.
- Eventually when all other methods of soothing him proved unfruitful, I resorted to giving him a popsicle, thereby teaching him that food is an effective coping mechanism when dealing with pain or other unpleasantness.
- I think everyone in Soren’s classroom hates me because I (accidentally!) step on children.
- Who in the hell gains weight after being almost entirely vegan for over a week?
- Except for the time I forgot there are eggs in fried rice and ate some anyway.
- Homemade artisan vegan sharp cheddar is disappointing.
- I’m quite honesty losing steam with respect to this whole vegan thing and want a big fat greasy pizza.
- The book I’m reading about veganism has me convinced that I’m going to get cancer because I have more than one beer a day. I mean, some days I have zero beers and some days I have three or four. It averages out to more than 7 a week.
- The dogs can’t really coexist with the chickens in the yard.
- Sadie, in particular, does nothing all day but pant and obsess over the chickens. She has to be heavily bribed to even get her in the house.
- My work evaluations are due today and I hate work evaluations.
The only time I’d refer to chickens as loud is right before they go to sleep for the night. They spend some time together discussing the events of the day and catching up on gossip.
Updating from my phone so who knows what will happen.
Remember that time I said JaVale McGee should have a reality show? It’s happening! (Read more about it here.)
Of course I had nothing to do with it. I can’t guarantee I won’t drink beer and live blog the show.
After being in a funk for a while, I was prepared for a rough Mother’s Day. I’ll be honest. Soren was kind of a bear on Saturday. His very tactful soccer coach, after a practice fraught with screaming and crying, accurately described him as follows: “You remind me of some of the European players. Temperamental but pretty good.” Temperamental, indeed, but let’s not forget that he probably learned it from watching me.
The good news is that Mother’s Day was glorious, aside from the minor problem of my MacBook dying. (Ben says it’s just the hard drive, which of course is a simple fix as soon as the new one arrives.) In the afternoon, we made our annual trek to Al’s Pine Garden and Nursery for Mother’s Day flowers, which for us are the kind you plant.
Here’s what I’d been awaiting for what seemed like forever: The kind of day where you can wear a tank top, shorts, and Birkenstocks outside without even thinking about being cold. Dirt under your fingernails, a beer in the shade, chickens going absolutely crazy for worms and ants in the yard. Reggae and a guy who gives you a calendula plant but calls it “Caligula.” A 3-year-old entrusted with watering the vegetables who turns the hose on himself, which is pretty much the best, most hilarious thing, ever. (If it’s warm out and you ever have one of those days where you don’t know what to do with your kid, give him a hose.) A husband who has the chicken coop almost ready for the ladies to move in. A pitcher who throws a one-hit complete game.
It feels like summer, and I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say it won’t snow next week. Finally and gloriously.
Do you guys know about pudla? It’s so good I kind of want to evangelize it, and I’m not a fan of evangelizing. Pudla is basically a vegan omelet-like thing made with chickpea flour.
I followed this awesome recipe and it’s seriously the easiest thing ever to make. I added green onion, cilantro, and a bunch of spinach. After flipping, I added some shredded Daiya jalapeno garlic havarti. When the pudla was done cooking, I put the pan under the broiler in the oven for a few minutes to melt the “cheese.”
This is delicious and it’s super filling and keeps you full for a long time. Amazing.