Month: September 2016

Working on Updates

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After making a resolution to put writing on my calendar, and carving out two hours to keep this resolution, Microsoft thinks it’s appropriate to update my Windows 10. I thought these things were supposed to happen at night while I am fitfully trying to sleep. We are now forty-five minutes into my two hour appointment with my keyboard and only 32% finished. No other party but the god of Microsoft would dare to interfere with MZ’s calendar. Just ask my family.

I resorted to working on my bosses computer. We won’t tell him. However, if I happen to turn on this computer under duress of a work deadline, especially on payroll day, and find this red screen of dread, I’m fairly sure there will be hell to pay. Which reminds me, I have this catchy little tune in my head The Bells of Hell Go Ting a ling a ling thanks to a post on my pastor’s Facebook page. No, we did not sing this in church this morning. Hubby wishes I’d stop humming it and get on with my writing.

Ubermensch

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“Ubermensch.Ubermensch. Ubermensch,” I listen closely to the pronunciation over and over on my phone at the breakfast table. It’s part of the morning routine, finding the word of the day in my inbox. I can’t help but giggle when I look up the definition.

“Uber… what. What’s so funny?” hubby asks when I begin to giggle.

“Oh nothing,” I say as I switch over to the camera app on my phone and aim across the breakfast table. There’s a hint of a smile as the flash goes off.

“Don’t post that,” he says.

“What makes you think I’d post this one?” I ask, considering if I should crop out the message on his t-shirt. I decide to leave it there.

“If something happens to you, they’ll come after me,” he cautions as he looks down at his shirt.

“If you didn’t lend your shirts out, the message wouldn’t be there,” I say. My interpretation has a different take.

“So what does it mean?” he asks.

“Your shirt?” I ask.

“No, Uber… however you say it,” he says.

“Look it up. You may be surprised,” I respond. He always thinks I bring out the worst in him and fears what may come up in my memoir. Should he be worried?

Dictionary.com defines it as “superman” while Wordsmith.org defines it as “an ideal man; also used ironically.”  Wikipedia rips the word apart from it’s German origin to  popular culture, a complicated dissertation.  For me, I’ll just settle for the irony of it all and get back to the memoir.

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Read A Book Day

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What are you reading? What shall I read next?  No, don’t tell me. My TBR stack is taller than my bed; my tablet has an accumulation of at least 100 books that I have not read. Let’s not even talk about the Audible account. Fact is, I collect all these books with the best of intentions. Perhaps it’s an illness. Notice I did not say addiction. It’s healthy, isn’t it?  Read a review in the paper – buy the book. Attend a book signing – buy the book. Visit the library – buy a book from the discards. Browse a book store (if you can find one) – buy a book. Go to a writer’s conference – raid the book table. Join a writer’s group – buy all their books. They are everywhere. I can’t stop.

If it weren’t for Goodreads, I’d have no idea which ones I’ve read. Just like movies – I know I enjoyed them – especially those I rated  *****.  BUT, if you ask me what they were about, I’d get confused, mix up characters, places and books. It really doesn’t matter. I’ve never been the kind of person to join a book club and critique each chapter page by page. I’ve never been much of a reviewer either. For me reading is an escape. It’s all about being entertained, having a good laugh, guessing the outcome, and feeling good that I’m not the only one who is writing the most dysfunctional life memoir.

Now about that memoir. Yes I have a few more words, maybe even another chapter. Save room on your TBR list. It will be available soon… some day. Maybe by next September 6th when Read-A-Book-Day rolls around again.

 

Dot or . ?

Hot Jazz 2016

The Labor Day weekend drive on Highway 80 is tedious to the point of absolute boredom. No not boredom. Frustration. These ladies do not get bored. No matter what. But opportunity strikes in the middle of one of many traffic stalls. The phone rings. I see the number pop up. (983) 147-6055. “Shhhh ladies. We are going to have some fun with this one.” I turn on the speaker phone.  (warning – this gets a bit nasty)

The scammer speaks. “Hello ma’am. I’m calling from windows. There is a problem with your computer.”

“Oh no, what can I do? Can you help me?”

My passengers roll their eyes as he responds, “Yes I help you. Are you at your computer ma’am?”

“Oh yes, please what shall I do,” I ask.

“Bring up your internet browser,” he says.

“How do I do that?” I ask.

“Oh my God. Click on the little ball in the lower corner of your screen.”

“Did you say ball? I don’t see any balls.”

“There’s a little ball. It looks like an E.”

“Oh that one. Thank you so much for helping me. I did it.”

My passengers are holding back the snickers now. Our scammer comes back on the line. “See the box on top of the screen. The one where your cursor is located.”

I resisted the urge to ask him what a cursor might be. “Hmmm let me look. I don’t see it. Oh wait. There it is.”

Jeanette can’t hold in the laughter. I look at her with consternation. “Shhh.”

Scammer comes back on. “Oh my god. Just type in the bar. http://www.”

“Where’s the w?” I ask.

“OMG. under the number 2.”

“Oh I see it now. Okay w w w.” More stifled laughter in the back seat. I look in the rear view mirror, a warning look.

“Dot,” he says.

“Dot? What do you mean dot? D-O-T?” I chide back at him.

“OMG. Dot. Period. The key with the dot. One dot.”

“Okay, can we start over?” I ask. Carol and Pat are bent over in laughter.

“We will try this slowly w – w – w – dot – support…..” he begins slowly.

“Wait,” I interrupt. “S U P… how do you spell support?”

“OMG S U P P O R T. Then type slash me dot com.”

Jeanette lets out a yelping laugh. “Shhhhh.” I give her another warning look.

“Okay, I think I have it,” I say holding back the laughter.

“What do you see?” he asks.

“Nothing. The screen is black.”

“Wait a minute. Now what do you see? I need you to click on …”

I can’t understand what he is saying but traffic has now begun to move and I must end this distraction. “My screen. It is black. You killed my computer. It’s dead.”

“Oh. My. God. Wait a minute.” We listen to some foreign whispers as he consults his fellow scammers. “The screen. Is it really black?” He sounds worried. I expect him to say he can fix it.

“Yes, I yell back. You killed it.” We can’t hold it in anymore. We all burst out in laughter.

“You f***ed with me. Go shove it up your P****.” He hangs up.

A few minutes later at lunch we are roaring in laughter. The phone rings again. It’s him. “Hey you already told me to shove my computer. It didn’t fit.”  (Okay… I really didn’t say that. Didn’t think of it in time.)