"He Never Came Down From The Mountain"

Well, I've returned to Norman. Christmas was good--hung out with the family, relaxed, ate well, slept even better (which is no mean feat when you consider I was fed by not one but both grandmothers), and got some nifty stuff for Christmas.

Among the niftiest presents were a digital camera (interesting story to relate concerning that, but we'll get to that in a moment), a bicycle (so I can stop borrowing Clif's), the Star Wars Trilogy on DVD, and Bob Dylan's Chronicles, Volume 1. I got some other neat stuff, including a couple of movies I wanted, a couple of CDs (John Mellencamp's latest Best of collection, Words and Music, and my uncle's newest album. There will be reviews), and various articles of clothing and whatnot that were either requested (like a long-sleeved dress shirt and a new Beatles t-shirt) or appreciated (a new pair of khakis and a new flannel shirt).

Anyway, the camera story: thing is, this was my uberpresent from the folks this year. A nice Kodak 4 megapixel digital camera with the video recording function and all that jazz. Nice little camera, good deal, and the memory cards for it are really cheap (I bought a memory card for it earlier today. Holds 100 pictures, cost $15. Good stuff). Well, we'd opened all our presents and stuff, and had Christmas breakfast, and I was fiddling with the camera box that had everything in it. I open up the box, and there's no camera. All the cords are there, the instruction manual is in place, but the spot where the camera should be is conspicuously empty. I mention this to mom, and she nearly has a heart attack. Her worst fear realized: a major present wasn't actually taken out of the store. She starts to panic a bit, afraid that she'll never be able to get back to the store and convince them that we didn't just take the camera out of the box and claim there never was one in there.

So mom goes back to the store where she bought the camera on Sunday. She takes the box and the recepit and everything with her. The clerk checks things, and they've got only one of those cameras left. It happens to be the one that matches the serial numbers on our box. It's the camera that belongs to us. Anyway, all is well, I have my camera, and it's gravy, man.

On an annoying note, I just realized about ten minutes ago that I left my shaving kit at my parents' house. That means I don't have my glasses, contact stuff, deoderant, comb, razor, or toothbrush. Looks like I have to make a trip to Wal-Mart tonight. Joy.

~chuck

Song of the Moment: REM, "Imitation of Life"