Driving My Computer

Posted on May 8, 2011 by lcwasser

My hubby is a computer programmer and he is appalled at my lack of interest in learning how my computer works.

I mean, I’m not totally stupid about it. I know how to drive my computer, but I don’t know how to change the oil. And when it makes that weird pinging sound, I can’t tell if it’s the fan belt or the carburetor.

Here’s what I think. There are a lot of people in the world who own and drive cars, but don’t know how to fix them. They drive all over, every day, and when the car breaks down, they “call the man.”

Calling the man is what my mom used to do because my dad didn’t know how to fix anything. They’d have conversations like this, “There’s a crack in the basement window, the kitchen faucet is dripping and the water heater just exploded.”

“Don’t look at me. Call the man.” When they were first married, my dad actually thought you had to call the man to change a fuse. My mom gallantly showed him how to do it (and then snickered behind his back forever after. How do you think I know this story?)

I don’t even think my father realized that it was different men, that repairmen actually specialized. (And I’m not being a misogynist. It was the ’60′s. They were all men. I didn’t have a female auto mechanic until the ’80′s.)

Anyway, I call the man–in this case, my husband–whenever the computer does something stupid. It’s a Macintosh, so this doesn’t happen often. And every single time, he gets this put-upon look on his face as if to say, “You should know by now how to do this.”

Maybe.

And maybe he should know how to diagram a sentence or explain to a person who speaks English as a second language the difference between “since” and “for” when speaking about the time difference between a past event and this moment. Maybe he should know how to define an adverb or various grammatical cases or, in a list of adjectives, explain which ones should come first in the sentence and why.

He doesn’t know the English language’s intimate and intricate inner workings, even though it’s his mother tongue.

In other words, he knows how to drive the English language, but he can’t change the oil.

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I’m Sick of Death

Posted on April 11, 2011 by lcwasser

My blog is supposed to be funny, but this entry isn’t.

I am sick of people I know dying.

The reason I haven’t written much in the last two months is that I’m hard pressed to be funny when it seems like every other day someone says to me, “Hey, guess who died?”

It started with my brother. I wanted to write about this, but didn’t know what to say. I didn’t really know him very well. He went off to the navy when I was a teen and came back the weekend I got married. And then I moved out of state and then out of the country. And he died of being an alcoholic for too long. What is there to say about that?

I felt bad for his wife, although she seemed to be doing okay. And then, her mom died a week and a half later. Oh, crap! That poor woman. Her mom was a wonderful person. I’m not just saying that. The woman was a saint. The line of people at her wake stretched out the door and down the block. But my SIL still seemed to be doing okay. Her religion comforts and supports her. I’m not a big religion fan myself, but I did meet her pastor when I flew over for my brother’s memorial service, and he seemed a very real and down-to-earth guy, so between God and her church folk, she’s probably in good hands.

My neighbor died and I didn’t even know it for two weeks. I was so wrapped up in my own drama, I missed the news. He was a quiet guy. Walked his dog, minded his own business. You don’t think you’re going to miss a guy you only ever said, “Morning” to as you passed on the street while he was walking his dog. But, weirdly, you do miss it.

My friend’s father got into a car accident and died a while later from his injuries. My friend did get to see him before he died. More importantly, she had recently been to visit him–a few months ago, I think–so that may have been a comfort to her. I didn’t know him, but I love my friend and I feel her loss.

Two high school friends/acquaintances also died. This freaks a person out when she is only 50-years-old.

Christine was a quiet, shy kind of girl. Consequently, even though we went through 12 years of school together, we never really hung out because I was a loud, whirlwind kind of girl. She took care of her parents until their deaths. In fact, even though she was sick herself, I swear she waited for her mom to die first, before she gave in to her cancer. She didn’t want her mom to have to deal with the death of her daughter. It’s those shy, quiet people who have the inner strength to do things like that.

Marcus was quiet, too, but not in a shy way, just in a non-show-offy way. He always wanted to fly and was thrilled when he got his pilot license. He was a Benny Hill fan, and a Monty Python fan, too. In fact, he introduced me to Monty Python back in the 70′s. In my opinion, you always have to hold a special place in your heart for the person who introduces you to Monty Python.

Here’s the weird thing: I think I’m missing someone. Like I can misplace someone in the mass of recent deaths in my vicinity. If I did forget someone, then family and friends, don’t think less of me. My head is so filled up with all these people leaving the party that my brain is not working efficiently.

I’m hoping that my sense of humor comes back soon. Until then: Be well. (Really. I mean it!)

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Scrabble Conversation

Posted on March 21, 2011 by lcwasser

Tori wanted to play scrabble, but she’s ten and we have a serious advantage over her, so we don’t score. However, we do complain about our letters and we crow and bemoan potential scores.

*sigh*
“Why are you sighing?”
“I have lame letters.”
“You think you have lame letters, I have 6 vowels.”
“Change them.”
“I did. I used to have 7 vowels.”

“Look, Mom put down MOTE, so you could just add an E or an RE or a PRO to the front.”
“Great idea, but I don’t have those letters.”

*sigh*
“What?”
“I have lame letters.”

“Here’s a P, do you have any words that could end in P?”
“Yeah, like beer. Beer always ends in pee.”

*sigh*
“Lame letters?”
“Yeah.”

“Guys! That word would have scored me 24 points.”
“We’re not scoring.”
“Yeah, but if we were, I’d be kicking your butts.”

“I can only spell screams.”
“Well, can you fit it in somewhere?”
“Not the word ‘screams,’ actual screams. I have WEEOIIE.”

*sigh*
“WHAT!?!”
“I have lame letters.”
“Well, you have to put down something, just put down something lame.”

STONES
“That’s a good word. We needed some longer ones to build on.”
“Yeah, but it’s all 1-point letters.”
“We’re not scoring! The point here is to put words on the board that Tori can build from.”

“Ohmygod! You complain about having lame letters the whole game and then you put down FEZ on a triple word score!”
“Yeah, but I had QUASAR a few turns ago and I couldn’t fit it in anywhere.”
“Okay. Don’t talk to me about quasars and fezzes. I have letters that can only spell pig noises. No wonder I couldn’t get any good letters. You got them all.”

Family fun!

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