Dean's Report Card
Speed of recovery: A+
Good humor in the face of adversity: A+
Tap dancing: C-
Love, Donna
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Knee/leg surgery is fashionable this month
Queen Elizabeth II Has Knee Surgery
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Dear Dean,
Because laughter is the best medicine . . .
Love, Donna
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Dear Dean,
Some romantic resolutions for the coming year. In 2003, I resolve to . . .
January: Get you back on your feet and upstairs where you belong.
February: Be your Valentine!
March: Dance an Irish jig.
April: Spirit you away for adventure.
May: Never miss a sunset over Sunapee.
June: Whip up healthy (and lakeworthy) gourmet menus -- on the boat.
July: Make your birthday the best ever (without a big party).
August: Not complain about the lack of air conditioning on 90-plus-degree days.
September: Celebrate our roots by planting a tree in Sunapee.
October: Treat you (not trick you) to the Boston Symphony.
November: Be your Swiss (and Thanksgiving) miss!
December: Sprinkle salt over any ice that menaces you!
Love, Donna
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Dear Dean,
One of my most enlightening sources of information . . . second only to a conversation with you!
www.harpers.org (click on harper's index).
Love, Donna
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Donna..How does one say thanks? Here you have undertaken
the principal physical and mental
care from even before the wanderweg fall (a couple of weeks of Swiss flu)
that has curbed our
normal vagabonding. You have provided everything at hand with the same
elegance and precise
style that you incorporate in writing. You are teaching me the difference
between
care and loving care...and it is a dimensional leap. love you, mean it,
dean
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Dear Dean,
A poem . . . in anticipation of another wonderful Christmas together.
Love, Donna
THE NET BEFORE CHRISTMAS
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Net,
There were hacker's a surfing. Nerds? Yeah, you bet.
The e-mails were stacked by Dean's modem with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The newbies were nestled all snug by their screens,
While visions of Java danced in their dreams.
With Dean in his bed and Donna alongside,
They had just settled down for an Internet ride.
When out in the Web there arose such a clatter,
they jumped to www.deanlebaronstuckathome.com to seewhat was the matter.
To a new page their browser flew like a flash,
Then made a slight gurgle. It started to crash!
They gasped at the thought and started to grouse,
Then looked at each other and clicked on the mouse.
When what to their wondering eyes should appear,
Their laptop jumped to a page that wasn't quite clear.
When the image resolved, so bright and so quick,
They knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!
More rapid than mainframes, more graphics they came,
Then Nick glanced toward their screen, their computer called them by name;
"Now HP! Now Acer!," their speaker did reel;
"On Apple! On Sony!" Santa started to squeal!
"Jump onto the circuits! And into the chip!
Now speed it up! Speed it up! Make this thing hip!"
The screen gave a flicker, he was into their RAM,
Then into the room rose a full hologram!
He was dressed in all red, from his head to his shoes,
Which were black (the white socks he really should lose).
He pulled out some discs he had stored in his pack.
Santa looked like a dude who was rarin' to hack!
His eyes, how they twinkled! His glasses, how techno!
This isn't the same Santa they used to know!
With a wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
Santa soon let them know they had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, gave their laptop a poke,
And accessed their C drive with only a stroke.
He defragged their hard drive, and added a SIMM,
Then threw in some cool games, just on a whim!
He worked without noise, his fingers they flew!
He distorted some pictures with Acrobat glue.
He updated Office, Excel, and Quicken,
Then added a screensaver with a red clucking chicken!
Dean's eyes widened a bit, Donna just couldn't move,
As he added the latest version of Groove.
The drive gave a whirl, as if it were pleased,
St. Nick coyly smiled, the laptop appeased.
Then placing his finger on the bridge of his nose,
Santa turned into nothing but ones and zeros!
He flew back into their screen and through an uplink,
Back into the net with barely a blink.
But they heard his sweet voice as he flew from my sight,
"Happy surfing to all, and to all a good byte!"
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