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To the detriment of hunters and their credit cards everywhere, it appears that my days spent as a minion in the Cabela’s Customer Care Center are over.
*sniff* Those bastards killed Bambi.
Click on the title of the blog post to view the entire entry.
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To the detriment of hunters and their credit cards everywhere, it appears that my days spent as a minion in the Cabela’s Customer Care Center are over.
*sniff* Those bastards killed Bambi.
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Kudos!
Congrats are in order to my friend, Jeff Haller, whose new photographic home is the Yakima Herald.
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I feel SICK.
The other day when I turned on my computer, it wouldn’t boot up. I’ve
tried everything. I’ve even talked to the manufacterer. All indications
point to a hard drive failure. If I send it it to get fixed,
I’ll lose all my data. All of it. What
does that mean? It means that I would lose EVERY
photo I took within the past year. All those photos on the left, yup,
I would lose all of them. For every photo on my web journal, there are
several that are not. Every photo I ever took of Sarah, gone.
Every photo I took in camp, gone.
Every photo I made of family members while living on the farm, gone.
All that would be left is the little low-res version that remains on
my web host’s server, which I have copied back onto a different computer.
Then there is my contact
list. Gone. If you haven’t emailed
me in the last 4 days, assume I don’t
have your email address. Old emails that were sacred to me.
Gone.
My portfolio….gone.
There are companies that
specialize in disk recovery and have an amazing success rate. Utilizing
those services will cost me in excess of $500 that I don’t have. Being
a professional grandson and a summer camp counselor has been a great
opportunity, one that has filled me with a wealth of new insite. It
hasn’t been very lucrative.
So I’m
stuck. I have a computer that doesn’t do anything. I don’t
dare get it fixed because I’ll lose all that important information.
I cant afford to regain the information.
Ugh.
I’m sick.
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Some of the majesty of this state lies within the ability to imagine pioneers traveling under a full moon on trails through the buffalo grass on their way to California or Oregon.
A few homesteaders stuck around. Their offspring have truly become some of the best people in the country.