Updates Are Fun!

Recently I broke my computer, hubby’s computer and my sewing machine all in one day. Turns out I had help:  updates.  The day before my technical difficulties, our computers downloaded the latest operating system updates.  My computer took exception to this and decided not to allow me to log on the next morning, no matter how many times I turned it off and on at the surge protector.  I managed to log on to hubby’s computer but then it wouldn’t shut down.  Turning it off and on at the surge protector took care of that problem and I managed to get it to reboot properly.

That left me with a finicky sewing machine and my computer with a bad hard drive error message. The sewing machine has since been serviced and calibrated, so it is good to go.

Hubby did some magic by attaching my hard drive to his computer and running it though a file checker. Result?  There is nothing wrong with my  hard drive.  He re-installed it.  It booted up fine.  He applied the service pack.  It crashed.  This is, as they say, a clue.  He backed out the updates and here I am, writing on my computer.

But updates lurk everywhere.  My smart phone has a shopping application that I use regularly.  It’s easy to take an item off the list:  just touch the item and a deletion line shows up over it.  To remove all the crossed out items, I just have to shake the phone a little. It vibrates and moves the items off of the current shopping list to the main list.

Or at least that’s the way it was before The Update.

I was at Whole Foods Market.  I put the apples in my cart.  I touched “apples” on my shopping list and the deletion line appeared.   After a few more items, I decided I wanted to see the whole list without scrolling.  I shook my phone, gently, to remove the deleted items.  Nothing.  I tried it again.  Still nothing.  I shook it purposefully.  Just as purposefully, those items stayed on my shopping list, crossed out.  I had downloaded an update to this app in the last week or so, but I didn’t consider this an improvement.  Surely, I thought, it must just be me.

With that in mind, I tried a few different approaches.  In the middle of the cereal aisle, I shook my phone up and down as if I were a bartender preparing a martini.  (That’s shaken, not stirred, right?)  I pretended I was a maraca musician and shook it rhythmically back and forth in a 180-degree arc from left to right with a little hip shimmy thrown in.

I meandered over to the refrigerated section, stood in front of the orange juice and then I got serious.  I choked my phone with both hands and growled at it, much like acting-Captain Spock did to acting-First Officer Kirk in the bridge fight scene in Star Trek 2009.  (Can we all say “emotionally compromised“?)

I could not get those deleted items to move off the main shopping list.

At home, I mentioned this to hubby. He had noticed the same thing when using that app on his smart phone.  He then showed me that the new version included a drop-down feature of “Clear marked items.”

Oh.  At this point I reminded myself that “update” is not the same as “upgrade.”

Technical Difficulties

Saturday was, as they say, “character building” due to multiple technical difficulties. First thing, my computer wouldn’t boot up. After six or seven tries of turning it off and on at the surge protector, I finally managed to run the diagnostics. The hard drive was bad, it said; so sad. It was serious, too. I couldn’t get past the logon screen.

So I used hubby’s computer. It worked, until I tried to turn it off. It had updates to take care of, it told me, just go on ahead about your business and it will turn itself off when finished.

Liar.

I went to the grocery store and left it running. It was still updating when I returned. I left it on while I went to a fabric postcard class at Honey Bee Quilt Store . . . where my sewing machine became finicky. Lots of “nests” in the bobbin when I was trying to do some satin zig-zagging on the edge of the postcard. Afterwards, I dropped by Sew Much More they looked at my sewing machine. It worked perfectly fine for them on every single stitch they tried. Fine. I left it there for a check up anyway.

I got home after all that and hubby’s computer was still “updating.” I turned it off and on at the surge protector. I was quite relieved when it booted up properly.

Later, I managed to turn on the TV without it exploding. Things are looking up.

Hot Stuff

I stayed up late Saturday night.  Late, as in 10:00 p.m.  This is unusual for me, as I’m definitely a morning person.  Yes, “early to bed, early to rise” people do exist.

What kept me up so late?  The New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle.  A friend at work showed me the application on his iPad last week, so I downloaded it as well.

Now, I am a casual crossword puzzle person.  I like them but I can’t say I’m any good at solving them.  Years ago, I tried to work the New York Times Sunday crossword puzzles.  If I managed to write in five items, I was feeling pretty good.  If it turned out that any of them were correct, I considered myself really hot stuff.  However, it wasn’t much fun spending all that time for only a few entries (mostly or all wrong), so I gave that up after a very short while.

Then the Internet was born.

“Kiss of the Dragaon” star?  Jet Li, of course.  Now I know that, too, even though I didn’t see the movie. The capital of East Flanders, Belgium?  Ghent!   The Welland Canal connects Lake Erie and Lake Ontario. Who knew?

With the Internet at my fingertips, I have a chance at doubling — no, tripling — my entries.  Fifteen, whew! The more people, geography, movie, literature clues in a puzzle, the more I can look up and fill in.

Saturday evening, I had my iPad out when ding!  The New York Times crossword puzzle application notified me that the Sunday puzzle was available.  Sure, I thought, I’ll just take one little peek.  Only a peek.  Right.  I managed a few more than my usual five entries, got inspired and decided to stay up “just a little bit longer.”

My experience makes me suspicious of some of my entries. I’ve been absolutely sure before and have been absolutely wrong.  I’m amazed at how many wrong answers have the same number of letters as the right answers.  One clue was “Rock and roll, e.g.”  I wrote “Music.”  No, it was “nouns.”  I’m leery of answers that I get right from the get go.  “Pathfinders, etc.” was the clue.  I put in Nissans.  That just sounded too easy.  But it was right.

One hour, 25 minutes and 22 seconds later, I finished it, just after 10:00 p.m.  And when I mean “I” finished it, that means me, hubby and the Internet.  Do you want to check the puzzle? the app asked me.  Sure, why not.  Ding!  The puzzle is correct!  Your time, it informs me, clocks in as puzzle solver #460.  Yep, 459 people finished the puzzle in a shorter amount of time.  Puzzle solver #1 with the shortest amount of time took 4:42 to finish.  Puzzle solver #2 managed it in 8:11.

But that was Saturday night.  By Sunday afternoon, my 1:25:22 time dropped me to #2071.  I may have downgrade my “hot stuff” level to “glacial.”

Dangerous Words

The four most dangerous words in the English language:  I can do that.  They are especially dangerous when I hear them come out of my mouth.

It’s that type of thinking that led me to sign up for  StoryTime at the Cactus Cafe at the Texas Union on the campus of the University of Texas at Austin.  StoryTime at the Cactus Cafe is an event sponsored by KUT, the local NPR radio station. The event opens with two featured story tellers followed by those who signed up to tell a story.

That was me.  In front of a microphone, in front of an audience.  An audience that was not an at-the-office meeting, not a captive audience where they had to be there.  No, these people were there voluntarily.  And so was I.

I heard the announcement for the event on a Saturday while driving.  At the next red light, I wrote myself a cryptic note (Cactus Cafe), put it in my purse and forgot about it.  I found the note Monday morning and looked it up online.  The next event was that upcoming Wednesday.  Each story teller gets a maximum of five minutes, they said.

That’s when I heard myself say:  I can do that. Had I ever done anything like that?  No.  Had I even thought about doing something like that?  No.  But as soon as I heard about it, I wanted to do it.

I chose one of my blog posts for my story, the one about a bad first date. I practiced with one of my friends at work and he timed me:  4 minutes, 10 seconds.  I was ready.  Hubby and two friends went with me for my story telling debut.  I signed up to be first.  Yes, first.  If I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it right.

I saw that both of the featured story tellers adjusted the height of the microphone.  I don’t know how to do that.  Yes, yes, I’d seen it done a million times on TV, but I never had to do it myself.  I didn’t want to waste any of my precious five minutes on trying to adjust it and then have it fall apart or something.  However the microphone was positioned when I walked up to it, that’s how I was going to use it.  I was ready to bend down and lean over sideways, had it been too short. I was ready to stand on my tippy-toes, if it was too tall.  Fortunately, the featured story teller just before me left it at a usable height.

I took a water bottle with me, in case my voice vanished.  This happened in one of my college literature classes.  The professor called on me to read a passage from a book.  I started out fine, but I was so nervous that my voice started squeaking around the third sentence.  By the end of the paragraph, it was a minuscule croak.

I got up on stage, put my water bottle on the stool and looked out over the audience.  I could not see a thing.   The stage lights were so bright, my vision stopped a few inches past the microphone.  That didn’t matter. I told my story.

I’m happy to report I did not not lose my voice.  I did not forget my story.  I did not mumble.  When they flicked the lights at the 4-minute mark, I had about two more sentences and I was finished.  I’m very happy with my story telling debut.  We stayed for the whole show and enjoyed all the stories.  Well, most of them.

Maybe this is the beginning of a new career, I thought.  Delusions of grandeur danced in my head.  If Ellen DeGeneres goes on vacation and needs a guest host, I would be available.  The next time Carol Burnett came to town, I could open for her. Alas, no talent scout chased after me as I left when the show was over.  I went to work the next morning, as usual.

Shortest. Career. Change. In. History.

Hubby recorded my story telling debut on his smart phone.  You can’t see me so well — I’m the glob of light at the microphone — but the sound is pretty good.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=26LZAU5ceBI

Ellen, Carol!  Call me!