The one-trick pony

 

  

I”ve just had a lesson in—what? Humility? Practicality? I’ve learned that I’m like the pony who knows only one trick. Take away that trick, and the pony has nothing. My lesson came when my computer refused to boot yesterday morning. In the interest of full disclosure, I admit I had spilled half a late-night glass of wine on my desk—not on the computer, but some seeped under it and apparently shorted it out.

Frantic, I sent messages to son-in-law, Brandon, a software engineer, and son Jamie, who was instantly ready to rush out and buy a new computer. In fact, he was gleeful at the thought. Brandon advised some steps to take, which I followed after a few wrong turns. Am I the only one who disconnects the remote keyboard and then tries to use it? His best advice was to let it sit. It could “come back to itself” as it dried out. Jamie added the advice to put it out in the sun. I would have been leery on a hot summer day, but this was five o’clock on a pleasant evening with a gentle sun. Still, nothing worked.

I had spent a long, useless day, wondering what to do next. You see, take away my computer, and I honestly don’t know what to do with myself. I fretted because I had an audition tape to listen to, an online class coming up to teach, and a Zoom call today with a book festival panel next weekend, although I couldn’t imagine going the whole week without a computer.

There were little things too—trying to log in to various sites on my iPad was impossible because I didn’t have the passwords; on my computer, those sites come up automatically. Jordan wanted to check our planned menus so I could place a Central Market order—couldn’t get to those files. I wanted to call our dog sitter for a grooming reference, but I could only remember her first name. Needed to go into the files to find her business name.

So I spent the day reading a mystery  But even ordering a book was difficult on the iPad. I missed my remote monitor with its nice big screen, my remote keyboard on which my fingers can fly.

About eleven last night I thought I’d give it one more try. Voila! It came on, without any of the externals, but the laptop was working. I went to bed happy, This morning, after a bit of trial, error, and patience, the keyboard and remote mouse began working but not the monitor. Jamie suggested the port was damaged, and I began to wonder if they can replace a port. Then the monitor flashed on; after a bit later it stayed on for a minute or two, but if I lowered the lid to the laptop, it went blank. And then, a miracle—it came on and stayed, just in time to “attend” church.

I’ve learned several lessons—just updated my list of passwords and printed it out to be hidden in a safe place. Cleared a place on the credenza so I could have tea or water or wine handy without risking more spills. The one I didn’t learn—find something else to do with my time. I am not a TV fan, and I can only cook so much, but I can spend the entire day at my computer. And today, I’m thanks for narrow escapes—or miracles.

A Jacob evening

Jacob spends a lot of time at my house, and pretty much we're good. He's easy, especially on weekdays when he's necessarily occupied with homework. But sometimes I forget how contradictory and--well, yes, irritating--eight-year-olds can be. Today being Friday, he had no homework so he went home with another boy to play. I was delighted because he's spending the night and I thought all day and all night with the old lady might be too much. His mother called: he had unpacked his iPad and left it on the counter at home. That's a big deal because if I want to work in the evening, that keeps him occupied without kids' TV blaring at me (he prefers to camp in my office). We would have to go pick it up from her at the country club near my house.
So I picked him up at five and told him all this. When we got home, he insisted on throwing his backpack out the window and then climbing out. No sooner done than he said we had to go back because he left his gloves (baseball gloves, crucial even though his season is over--couldn't wait till Monday). So back we went--not a big deal, less than a mile. Once back in my driveway he panicked because he couldn't find his backpack. I reminded him. So he asked for the second time why I wasn't putting the car in the garage. I explained again we would have to go get the iPad.
Once inside, he wanted his TV programs and I wanted the news, so he established himself in the kitchen, drank the red Gatorade he'd collected on our second trip to the friend's house and insisted on a bowl of Fruit Loops (I hate feeding him junk). Pretty soon he came to tell me he'd thrown up. I told him to clean it up but he insisted I come look. It was really minimal spit-up, but he said, "It's red. I'm thinking it's blood." I explained about the red drink and the Fruit Loops, and I made him clean it up while he muttered, "This is so gross."
His parents delivered the iPad, so I quickly went and put my car up while it was still dusk. I hate walking down my driveway in total darkness, even with motion detector lights spaced along the way. Then I cooked supper--scrambled eggs, bacon, and broccoli (which he loves). His first words: "I'm not eating that" and he pointed to the eggs. "It's eggs," I said. "Oh, okay, I'm eating it." He ate every bite on his plate and asked for more, which I didn't have--broccoli was all gone, and I would have had to start over with bacon and eggs. I offered part of the broccoli on my plate--and he came and snatched a piece of bacon with the explanation, "I like bacon." "So do I," I protested. He won that round.
So now he's at his iPad and I'm at my computer. He was of course still hungry and has had ice cream and a peanut butter/honey sandwich. I think all is well with the world. I told him I saw a sign last night that said, "I love you, but you sure can irritate me." I considered buying it but the friend with me asked if Jacob would understand. I said, "Oh yeah." Tonight he said, "Yeah. I understand." But his eyes were laughing.

Breathe in, breathe out

One of the things I like about yoga is that if you can really live in the moment while you're doing it, it does calm you. If I can get dogs and children and telephone squared away and do the poses, repeating breathe in, breathe out, I really do feel different when I finish a half hour. Doesn't happen often enough these days. I've been so busy keeping up with two dogs, that I have done yoga in two weeks...and I miss it. I keep telling myself life will settle down.
Today I woke up with an overwhelming sense of things to be done. Somehow that sense always hits me in the morning, but by evening I feel relaxed and confident about what I accomplished for the day. But Jacob spent the night last night...and I never sleep as well when he's here. In addition, I had to be sure to get up in plenty of time to get him down the block to school on time. This morning it was his iPad that distracted him. After his breakfast I told him to get his clothes and get dressed; he brought his clothes into the living room and then forgot about them until I asked why he was still in his underwear. Then I told him four times to get his lunch money off the kitchen counter. Guess what I found after I saw him off to school. Yep, lunch money. His mom said incredulously, "You let him have his iPad in the morning? What is wrong with you?" Lesson learned.
My lunch plans cancelled--now you know I'm in trouble when that comes as a blessed relief, even with a friend who is especially dear to me. But it meant I got a lot done, and tonight I'm going to start reading a friend's manuscript on the Garden of Eden community--an early African American settlement that survives today, with residents growing vegetables and living off the land as much as is possible in an urban community today.
I'm keeping up with the dog world and falling into a routine. Today, for the first time in who knows how long, I didn't have to be outside with Luke and he didn't escape. Lewis and Jim Bundock fixed the fence yesterday, came back today to reinforce the gate he tore through yesterday afternoon. We may have outwitted him, though I'm not counting on it.
Had an odd dinner tonight. Betty and I did our weekly dinner thing--and split an order of five deviled egg halves. She had clam chowder and I had a great tomato and blue cheese plate. Just the right amount of food. My weight has even gone down about five lbs.--good news!
All of this says to me that life goes on. Problems that seemed insurmountable become but bumps in the road. I'll get back to yoga and breathing in, breathing out. Maybe I'm Pollyanna, but I surely do think life is good. I hope it is for you too.

The good old days

Remember when summer was a time for kids to be kids, free to do whatever they wanted (within reason)? I remember at least one summer when I rode my bike to the public library every morning got four or five books, went home and spent the day on the screened-in front porch reading. Next morning I went back to return those and get more. The neighborhood kids thought I was squirrelly at best.
These days kids don't have that freedom. I wouldn't let Jacob ride his bike alone around the block, let alone to a public library a mile from home. Because his parents both work all day, his summer days are as structured as during the school year. He's either in some special camp or he's at the Clayton YES (Youth Enrichment Services) program at his school.
This week, I'm giving him a vacation. He stayed over Sunday night, stayed up way too late without my knowledge, and slept until ten. That morning he said he'd just like a week when he could sleep in, so I thought why not? He sleeps in (except Tuesday when we went to the country where he had a wonderful time) and spends much of the day on his iPad though I arrange outings--one day we went to lunch with friends he enjoys, then we went to the bank to sign some papers and meet his mom, and he went for his regular reading lesson. Today friends he adores took him at lunch because I had a previous commitment and then he had a swimming play date. Tomorrow another swimming play date. I do not want him to be a kid who does nothing but iPad but I figure for one week, it's okay--it makes him use his brain cells. And, oh yes, we do read for 30 minutes every morning. He's eating lots of peanut butter and honey, but that's okay too. At night he's in his room on the iPad and I'm at my desk--like two ships passing in the night. But maybe someday he'll remember his grandmother who let him do whatever he wanted.
Meantime I'm enjoying his company--what I have of it. And I will confiscate the iPad at bedtime.