Much too busy rebuilding my computer, I've not written any new blogs.
Thus, I've chosen to make a confession as I rejoin the living: I talk to and battle with inanimate objects and have done so since I was a child.
Now, relax, this is not a rehash of Toy Story or Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite. I'm not even limiting my confession to golf clubs, tennis rackets, and the occasional hammer which I've been know to yell at and then heave when my Irish got disturbed.
Sadly, I have friends who are willing to testify that I have on occasion obtained further distance with my driver than the golf ball I mishit. Even my putter would hide itself behind my golf umbrella rather than chance an unscheduled trip up against a tree.
No, this malady I have within me goes much deeper than those childish exploits. Now, mainly I confine it to screaming at the computer or TV which ,in turn, scares the dog as she tends to internalize my anger.
I have always battled against the the so-called inanimate objects around me . I've always tried to co-exist, but, I fully believe they have a life all of their own and chose me as their enemy.
When the closet hangers I sought decided they were not ready "to come out of the closet" they would purposely tangle themselves around another hanger or a piece of clothing. The harder I pulled the more entangled they became and in their anger to escape they occasionally damaged my clothes.
The peanut butter sandwich I enjoyed throughout my life - would frequently object to being consumed by me and would twist out of my grasp onto the newly cleaned kitchen floor -with the bread side always facing me.
Inanimate objects can become both jealous and possessive. If I attempt to hold more than three objects in my hand as I aim my front door key toward the lock -one object will always squirm
free, jump down and run away from the other faithful ones which remain.
Shirt button holes will not accept my buttons. Soap will jump into my eyes should I try to steal a glance while shampooing my hair. Toilets will overflow when I flush them in my bosses home.
Restaurant forks will jump out of my hand. Toilet paper will fight amongst themselves to become entangled on my shoes. Cloth napkins will attach themselves to my lap when I attempt to get up.
I have struggled with nails that refuse to be hammered, screws that would not allow themself to be screwed and wrenches that will not attach themselves to anything. No amount of pleading, cajoling, or screaming will keep them from their appointed position. Not even my challenge of "best two out of three?" will tempt them.
I have actually had snowblowers that worked for my neighbors but refused to engage at my command - and I was their owner..
I had a Cadillac that I called White Wind and encouraged to enter merging Pennslvania traffic quickly only to hear it pause as if to ask, "You really expect me to jump in front of those semi's?"
I'm telling you these objects have a mind of their own and at night get together outside on the lanaii to plan how they will torment me the next day. Some of these terrorists have even committed to suicide missions - like 2 1/2 inch bolts that have sworn to resist even if their threads are stripped.
Some people talk to plants. I am known to beg my tools by muttering, "c'mon - give me a break!"But, nothing will dissuade them.
Recently all my clothes got together and made a pact to shrink when I attempted put them on
So, what's a guy to do? I'll never win. I end up doing magic tricks for the dog.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
CLEANING DAY
Today is cleaning day. How do I know that?
Well, it's kind of simple. Before the cleaning people arrive we have: made the bed, scrubbed the toilet bowls, cleaned off the counters of any magazines, mail, etc, cleaned all the countertops with Chlorox, put away all CD's, organized the computer desk to make it easier to clean, emptied all the waste baskets, put away all clothing, and scrubbed the hairspray from my wifes dressing area.
Yep, by gosh, we're just about ready. I will need to move the car so as to make sure the driveway is clear.
The first time we did this I suspected our goal was to convince the good people who clean bi-monthly that we did not defecate. Later, I was convinced our goal was to convince them that nobody lived in our home.
Please understand we are not slobs. I admire my wife, Phyl, for her cleanliness and accept that some of the things we do fall under the heading of being considerate. But, there's a reason for our actions.
We have employed cleaning services in the past. Once, I hired a local woman who came to clean the Pennsylvania home while I was in Florida for a month in December. She left me a sarcastic note stating "I didn't know you wanted me to do your "spring cleaning". I fired her.
Another time we hired a young fellow who was a roommate of the Maitre De of a restaurant we frequented. After a while the bartender pulled us aside to tell us that when he finished cleaning up any of our trash - he then came back to the bar and trashed us to the other patrons. We fired him.
We then hired a national cleaning service, only to discover, the meaning of the phrase "Deep Cleaning". They didn't do it except in one room each time.
Our home was what was referred to then as a tri-level with two master bedrooms suites, a loft, living room, dining room, eat in kitchen, photo gallery room, a powder room long hall, and an enclosed sun porch on the top two floors. The bottom floor consisted of a stone wall at the bottom of the plush carpeted stair, a large finished L- shaped room, plus a big office, and a complete bathroom. There were french doors throughout the home and a couple of fireplaces with handmade mantels. It was a fun home with traffic patterns that guests loved.
We concluded that every 6 months one of these rooms would have been "deep cleaned". We fired them, cleaned the house ourself, and realized it was much more house than we needed.
I have had two spinal operations. My wife, always anxious to outdue me, has had two spinal fusions, both with instrumentation. The stairs were killing us. We sold that house and moved fulltime into our small but comfortable Florida home.
Prior to moving to Florida I assured my bride, I would take responsiblity for the cleaning of our new considerably scaled down home. After arriving here I discovered that, like Toby Keith's hit song, "As Good As I Once Was", I had lost a tremendous amount of "cleaning flexibility" in my body. OK, putting it another way, I'm getting old.
So, we ended up doing the cleaning ourself with Phyl consistently winning the blue ribbons for both thoroughness and persistence. I did one helluva job; however, in cleaning the shower and tub in the main bathroom and also wielded a wicked fan cleaning brush.
When my wife, post second operation, finished cleaning the top of the crown molding in the Florida kitchen, a few months ago, she went to step off the kitchen counter onto her small ladder and fell onto the floor. While apparently more embarassed and scared than hurt, that was when we decided a different approach was appropriate. We hired a friend and her associate who performed this work professionally.
We are pleased with their fine efforts . So, are our backs - knees, etc.
It took us at least one full day to clean our house working together. The professionals do so in about 2 hours or so.
I have thought that perhaps our prep work might have been of some assistance, but, I conclude it's just the normal compromise between cleaning your home yourself or hiring a cleaning service.
Oops, time to move the car. Or, should I clean it first?
Well, it's kind of simple. Before the cleaning people arrive we have: made the bed, scrubbed the toilet bowls, cleaned off the counters of any magazines, mail, etc, cleaned all the countertops with Chlorox, put away all CD's, organized the computer desk to make it easier to clean, emptied all the waste baskets, put away all clothing, and scrubbed the hairspray from my wifes dressing area.
Yep, by gosh, we're just about ready. I will need to move the car so as to make sure the driveway is clear.
The first time we did this I suspected our goal was to convince the good people who clean bi-monthly that we did not defecate. Later, I was convinced our goal was to convince them that nobody lived in our home.
Please understand we are not slobs. I admire my wife, Phyl, for her cleanliness and accept that some of the things we do fall under the heading of being considerate. But, there's a reason for our actions.
We have employed cleaning services in the past. Once, I hired a local woman who came to clean the Pennsylvania home while I was in Florida for a month in December. She left me a sarcastic note stating "I didn't know you wanted me to do your "spring cleaning". I fired her.
Another time we hired a young fellow who was a roommate of the Maitre De of a restaurant we frequented. After a while the bartender pulled us aside to tell us that when he finished cleaning up any of our trash - he then came back to the bar and trashed us to the other patrons. We fired him.
We then hired a national cleaning service, only to discover, the meaning of the phrase "Deep Cleaning". They didn't do it except in one room each time.
Our home was what was referred to then as a tri-level with two master bedrooms suites, a loft, living room, dining room, eat in kitchen, photo gallery room, a powder room long hall, and an enclosed sun porch on the top two floors. The bottom floor consisted of a stone wall at the bottom of the plush carpeted stair, a large finished L- shaped room, plus a big office, and a complete bathroom. There were french doors throughout the home and a couple of fireplaces with handmade mantels. It was a fun home with traffic patterns that guests loved.
We concluded that every 6 months one of these rooms would have been "deep cleaned". We fired them, cleaned the house ourself, and realized it was much more house than we needed.
I have had two spinal operations. My wife, always anxious to outdue me, has had two spinal fusions, both with instrumentation. The stairs were killing us. We sold that house and moved fulltime into our small but comfortable Florida home.
Prior to moving to Florida I assured my bride, I would take responsiblity for the cleaning of our new considerably scaled down home. After arriving here I discovered that, like Toby Keith's hit song, "As Good As I Once Was", I had lost a tremendous amount of "cleaning flexibility" in my body. OK, putting it another way, I'm getting old.
So, we ended up doing the cleaning ourself with Phyl consistently winning the blue ribbons for both thoroughness and persistence. I did one helluva job; however, in cleaning the shower and tub in the main bathroom and also wielded a wicked fan cleaning brush.
When my wife, post second operation, finished cleaning the top of the crown molding in the Florida kitchen, a few months ago, she went to step off the kitchen counter onto her small ladder and fell onto the floor. While apparently more embarassed and scared than hurt, that was when we decided a different approach was appropriate. We hired a friend and her associate who performed this work professionally.
We are pleased with their fine efforts . So, are our backs - knees, etc.
It took us at least one full day to clean our house working together. The professionals do so in about 2 hours or so.
I have thought that perhaps our prep work might have been of some assistance, but, I conclude it's just the normal compromise between cleaning your home yourself or hiring a cleaning service.
Oops, time to move the car. Or, should I clean it first?
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
CRASHING THE PARTY
When I first used a computer I was "scared". I was so sure I would do something wrong and it would blow up, etc. The advice I received was, "Don't worry. You can't do anything to it if you just follow the instructions." R-I-G-H-T!
This past Thursday I crashed my computer. We had mistakedly been informed that, since my computer was connected to my wife's computer and server via my wireless router, I would receive her computer anti-virus protection.
I later found out this information was from the same guy who swore to G.W. he had personally seen the weapons of mass instruction in Iraq.
The server I was using for my personal computer provided me with a anti-virus source at little or no cost - forever - or so I thought. I referred to my provider as "Ed". Through the years, "Ed" & I went merrily on our way together down the primrose path. Recently, I was advised by my server that "Ed's"protection was about to expire and I needed to contact him to renew it - at a price.
After researching "Ed's" website I noted the various plans available - thought about signing up - and then decided not to due to the above assurance we were "A.O.K.
If you've ever watched any bomb squad movie you'll recall how the timer keeps ticking down the seconds so you know how much time the good guy has to disconnect the wiring. Seldom does it tell him what color wire to disconnect, however, for, if it did there would be no suspense and the movie would suck. I can relate.
Faithfully, each day I received a popup advising me of my anti-virus countdown. On the day of reckoning, I continued to ignore the warning - and my computer crashed. The repairer at Digital Doctors later said my problem was due to a virus - my first one - as I previously had protection.
When my computer screen dissolved to a black background and white letters I knew I was in trouble. The message before me was apologetic and gave me several options as to how I might rectify the situation. None of them worked.
Then, magically, a prompt came up advising me to push one of the "F" keys, which I did. I was "instructed" to install the System Recovery CD that came with my computer in 2005.
Following instructions, I did just that and watched with amazement as all kinds of things started flipping left to right and right to left in front of me in slam dunk fashion. The process took forever. Occasionally, I received a status report.
One such message furnished me with a warning that, to me, "suggested" I might lose data and files.
Well, C'mon. I guess we've all seen that warning: "You may wish to close all programs you currently have open as you may lose - - - - - . "
"Right! Yeah, sure, pal", I thought, while hitting the O.K button, cause, I never lost anything before when I hit "OK". "Just get things up and working", I muttered.
But you see, that's not what the prompt was actually saying. The message was more like, "Look, S - - t for brains, the recovery process erases all data and files from the hard drive!"
Actually, it was probably the exact same warning as the one on the cover of the Recovery CD which I missed and the D.D. kindly pointed out to me at the shop. He seemed to feel that may have been the reason the computer CD erased or overwrote all my data from the past 4 1/2 years.
Please be assured I was not, and am not, upset with the "Doc". He was patient with me and his recovery results were truly amazing. However, his customer was then, as now, a complete dolt.
Four days later, I have my hard drive back - most of my music - and various documents which I have to download and rename . He recovered the few personal pictures I had stored.
I also have about 2200 other pictures that apparently came with one program or another I downloaded . I know this only because Ava Gardner was never a member of our family - nor, sadly, has she stopped by lately; but she looks great in her stored closeup photo.
So far, I haven't figured out how to get back on my E-mail. When, or if ,I ever do, I will attempt to answer any inquiries or clever info you may have sent to me in the interim. Again, I feel stupid. So, I decided to write this blog for the usual therapeutic reasons - to work out my frustrations.
I'm still upset, but darn, Ava still looks like a keeper.
This past Thursday I crashed my computer. We had mistakedly been informed that, since my computer was connected to my wife's computer and server via my wireless router, I would receive her computer anti-virus protection.
I later found out this information was from the same guy who swore to G.W. he had personally seen the weapons of mass instruction in Iraq.
The server I was using for my personal computer provided me with a anti-virus source at little or no cost - forever - or so I thought. I referred to my provider as "Ed". Through the years, "Ed" & I went merrily on our way together down the primrose path. Recently, I was advised by my server that "Ed's"protection was about to expire and I needed to contact him to renew it - at a price.
After researching "Ed's" website I noted the various plans available - thought about signing up - and then decided not to due to the above assurance we were "A.O.K.
If you've ever watched any bomb squad movie you'll recall how the timer keeps ticking down the seconds so you know how much time the good guy has to disconnect the wiring. Seldom does it tell him what color wire to disconnect, however, for, if it did there would be no suspense and the movie would suck. I can relate.
Faithfully, each day I received a popup advising me of my anti-virus countdown. On the day of reckoning, I continued to ignore the warning - and my computer crashed. The repairer at Digital Doctors later said my problem was due to a virus - my first one - as I previously had protection.
When my computer screen dissolved to a black background and white letters I knew I was in trouble. The message before me was apologetic and gave me several options as to how I might rectify the situation. None of them worked.
Then, magically, a prompt came up advising me to push one of the "F" keys, which I did. I was "instructed" to install the System Recovery CD that came with my computer in 2005.
Following instructions, I did just that and watched with amazement as all kinds of things started flipping left to right and right to left in front of me in slam dunk fashion. The process took forever. Occasionally, I received a status report.
One such message furnished me with a warning that, to me, "suggested" I might lose data and files.
Well, C'mon. I guess we've all seen that warning: "You may wish to close all programs you currently have open as you may lose - - - - - . "
"Right! Yeah, sure, pal", I thought, while hitting the O.K button, cause, I never lost anything before when I hit "OK". "Just get things up and working", I muttered.
But you see, that's not what the prompt was actually saying. The message was more like, "Look, S - - t for brains, the recovery process erases all data and files from the hard drive!"
Actually, it was probably the exact same warning as the one on the cover of the Recovery CD which I missed and the D.D. kindly pointed out to me at the shop. He seemed to feel that may have been the reason the computer CD erased or overwrote all my data from the past 4 1/2 years.
Please be assured I was not, and am not, upset with the "Doc". He was patient with me and his recovery results were truly amazing. However, his customer was then, as now, a complete dolt.
Four days later, I have my hard drive back - most of my music - and various documents which I have to download and rename . He recovered the few personal pictures I had stored.
I also have about 2200 other pictures that apparently came with one program or another I downloaded . I know this only because Ava Gardner was never a member of our family - nor, sadly, has she stopped by lately; but she looks great in her stored closeup photo.
So far, I haven't figured out how to get back on my E-mail. When, or if ,I ever do, I will attempt to answer any inquiries or clever info you may have sent to me in the interim. Again, I feel stupid. So, I decided to write this blog for the usual therapeutic reasons - to work out my frustrations.
I'm still upset, but darn, Ava still looks like a keeper.
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