Halloween decorations hit the stores in August. Christmas decorations are out by October. Sweet and innocent Easter decorations are on the shelves before raunchy red Valentines Day tchotchkes have left them. But where, I ask you, are the Shark Week decorations?

That's racist, America.

“If I had to choose between being eaten by a shark and having my heart broken again, I’d rather get eaten by the shark—because at least I’d know that shark actually wanted me.” (Sean Patton)

While drawing up proposals for Camp Feral Child, I noticed that Missouri is one of several states racing to do away with child labor laws. And that's when it hit me: SUMMER LABOR CAMP!

It only makes sense. Why pay money to send them to camp when you can MAKE money sending them to camp? And they'll still be making arts & crafts, but now for a profit! It's WIN-WIN!

Education is your child's job, but who gets a three month vacation from work in this economy? Nobody! Tell your rugrat to get busy bringing home the bacon at Camp Make-a-Buck this summer!

Nephew is bored. And annoying.

I'm going to found a summer camp--30 city kids taken to Forest Park for three months, to learn to live off the land. I'll call it Camp Feral Child.*

"Tonight we eat gazelle! Quick, everyone over the fence before Zoo Security circles back!"

* By which I mean, I'm dropping him off at the park and coming back in August.**
** This was the original entry title. Thank desertwolf for the new title!

A few months ago, I shocked my friends Tina & K with the revelation that I was still using a computer K had put together for me before they were parents. And married. And homeowners. They broke it to me--oh, so gently--that I really needed to look into a new computer, because I was playing Solitaire on borrowed time. All hard drives go to heaven eventually.

But I am a creature of habit. My computer is a comfortable electronic burrow, and I know and love all its nooks and crannies. Sure, it could run a little faster, or quieter, but I could start up the programs I needed with the monitor off. A new computer would mean a new operating system to figure out, a whole new mokie-cave to customize and become accustomed to.

And what's wrong with Windows 2000 anyway? Besides that nobody supports it anymore. Or uses it. What? Yes, Windows 2000. Don't look at me like that.

So I've done it: after a really good month that left me with a little extra money, I admitted defeat and bought a new computer.

It's sleek. It's shiny. It's silent. It's adorable--so tiny it could fit inside my old tower. Hell, it's smaller than my old monitor. It's almost painfully speedy.

Not so speedy, though, is me trying to get used to Windows 7. It looks and feels as if everything is bubble-wrapped; there are lots of nifty helpful hints and nudges to do things that I'm not interested in at all ("Want to watch videos on Hulu?" No.), and the simple things (so I need to access this flash drive, and reorganize the start menu...) are tucked away out of sight.

I can see why they used a 5-year-old to show how easy it is, but I need the grown-up's guide to it.