Everyone on the planet who has owned a lap top, or some handheld device, or piece of fancy equipment will have a technology story. All these stories are basically the same one story. There may be a lot of detail and text, a fat middle so to speak, but the beginning and the end will be the same: something doesn't work as it is supposed to, then comes the irrelevant middle where hours are wasted -- first just your own hours, then, additionally someone else's as he or she tries to help, and finally you live chat with THE experts and they make you redo all that you have already done on your own and then with your kind hearted buddy, and then finally -- the denouement! -- you conclude that it's just not working and it will never work and moreover no one will ever understand why or where or how and so you finally give up.
My own story (and does it matter what small piece of equipment caused me grief?) occupied the better part of my morning and it actually worked its way into my time with Snowdrop. I suppose I could say that it was a terrible waste of hours, but from a different perspective, I did learn a lot and, Snowdrop -- well, she hogged Ed to herself, and if he learned nothing new about technology, he surely learned tons about how to charm and be charmed by a two year old.
Let me note the pretty moments of the day with the help of photos -- taken with my spare pocket camera, which I dropped and broke a few weeks back, but which I must use anyway since my more chunky but beloved camera is out for repairs. (Ed does not understand why I stay loyal to my chunky beloved, since, in its short one year life it has gone out for repairs three times already. But, when it's good, it's very very good and half the size and one fourth the price of a comparable SLR, so there's that.) See? There is a lot of technology confounding me and testing my patience this month.
Onto the photos!
Breakfast: I left some of the tulips out on the porch this past week and the cold snap arrested them in their fantastic final formation!
Ed walking to the barn. No, it's not shorts weather. Cheepers follow. Lots of green!
Snowdrop on the swings: I didn't tie back her hair and in any case, she was terribly distracted by the boy swinging next to her. He was a bit wild and she felt compelled to track his every movement. (Note the presence of a coat again. Yes, it's that cool.)
Snowdrop waits patiently at the coffee shop while I get the coffee and cookie. A customer comments: "the sweetest scene on the planet." Perhaps not on the planet, but maybe in the room?
Maybe I should water the flowers?
No, really Snowdrop. It's not necessary. Not today.
Mac and cheese for lunch.
The two of them.
Evening. Snowdrop goes home, Ed and I head south. Oh, not any great distances. A ten minute drive maybe. To the greenhouse that has a sneak preview of its annuals tonight (Kopke's). And as it happens, I become their first serious customer of the year.
Hardly anyone is there. Oh, they have their welcoming cookies and fruit juices, but it's cool outside and people don't think of gardens when it's cool.
But I do. I've been thinking garden thoughts since February. My 13 pots are ready and waiting. I've collected all the tags of successful varieties that kept up the show of color from spring to nearly winter last year. I know what I want.
Ed waits in the car, dozing, resting, still fighting his sniffles, while I push a cart of flowers up and down the greenhouse aisles.
I'll plant them this weekend. And wish them a hearty beautiful season of bloom.
My own story (and does it matter what small piece of equipment caused me grief?) occupied the better part of my morning and it actually worked its way into my time with Snowdrop. I suppose I could say that it was a terrible waste of hours, but from a different perspective, I did learn a lot and, Snowdrop -- well, she hogged Ed to herself, and if he learned nothing new about technology, he surely learned tons about how to charm and be charmed by a two year old.
Let me note the pretty moments of the day with the help of photos -- taken with my spare pocket camera, which I dropped and broke a few weeks back, but which I must use anyway since my more chunky but beloved camera is out for repairs. (Ed does not understand why I stay loyal to my chunky beloved, since, in its short one year life it has gone out for repairs three times already. But, when it's good, it's very very good and half the size and one fourth the price of a comparable SLR, so there's that.) See? There is a lot of technology confounding me and testing my patience this month.
Onto the photos!
Breakfast: I left some of the tulips out on the porch this past week and the cold snap arrested them in their fantastic final formation!
Ed walking to the barn. No, it's not shorts weather. Cheepers follow. Lots of green!
Snowdrop on the swings: I didn't tie back her hair and in any case, she was terribly distracted by the boy swinging next to her. He was a bit wild and she felt compelled to track his every movement. (Note the presence of a coat again. Yes, it's that cool.)
Snowdrop waits patiently at the coffee shop while I get the coffee and cookie. A customer comments: "the sweetest scene on the planet." Perhaps not on the planet, but maybe in the room?
Maybe I should water the flowers?
No, really Snowdrop. It's not necessary. Not today.
Mac and cheese for lunch.
The two of them.
Evening. Snowdrop goes home, Ed and I head south. Oh, not any great distances. A ten minute drive maybe. To the greenhouse that has a sneak preview of its annuals tonight (Kopke's). And as it happens, I become their first serious customer of the year.
Hardly anyone is there. Oh, they have their welcoming cookies and fruit juices, but it's cool outside and people don't think of gardens when it's cool.
But I do. I've been thinking garden thoughts since February. My 13 pots are ready and waiting. I've collected all the tags of successful varieties that kept up the show of color from spring to nearly winter last year. I know what I want.
Ed waits in the car, dozing, resting, still fighting his sniffles, while I push a cart of flowers up and down the greenhouse aisles.
I'll plant them this weekend. And wish them a hearty beautiful season of bloom.
