Back soon! We hope

The Princess has returned from a weekend of "leaf peeping" -- which is not nearly as illegal as it sounds -- and will return to writing just as soon as her body stops acting as if it is still going around and around the mountains of West Virginia...and around...and around...and around...

Three's a charm...sometimes

We regret that the regular third installment of the blog will not appear this week. We regret even more that there exists no real good reason for this, except that the Princess can think of nothing interesting to write about and would be forced to make something up. Which brings us to...


Reader question: And that's different from the way she normally writes this blog...how?


Answer: Oops, we must be experiencing technical difficulties...see you next week!

The Hero teaches the Queen Mum a thing or two

My mother, despite her obvious enjoyment when one of her children calls to talk, possesses a mysterious aversion to picking up the phone and calling one of us herself. In light of this, we have attempted to get her to use e-mail, which, we promised, would cost her nothing (she can use the community computer where she lives) and would be fun for her. This last promise has always been greeted with a cynical "Ha."


Gradually we have stopped bringing it up, except for the Hero, whose pledge it is to bring the miracle of technology to every living soul on earth. He continues to broach the subject with her by making such subtle comments as "So, are you ready to learn how to use e-mail today?" Finally, on our recent visit, she surprised everyone by agreeing. 


We began by showing her the Google icon on the desktop. "Yeah, Google," she said. "What IS a Google, anyway?"


We immediately realized that, like Europeans and Native Americans meeting for the first time to discuss important matters of state -- such as how best to roast a turkey for a crowd -- this might be a little more complicated than we had thought. 


We explained that she could use Google to type in search words, or a question. "Think of a question to ask," the Hero suggested.


"How about 'What color is my car?' " she offered, in an apparent confusion of search engines with the decidedly less technological, yet all-seeing, Magic 8 Ball.


"Maybe we should save search engines for another time," we suggested.


So we had her practice moving the mouse, which presented some difficulty, as there was very little space to move the mouse on the pull-out desk ledge. She approached the mouse gingerly, cupping two fingers around the back edge and moving it very cautiously. The cursor moved slowly on the screen, ever so slowly, all six of our eyes fixed on it, willing it to move faster, faster, PLEASE move faster, and when it finally reached the spot where we had told her to click -- about 45 minutes later -- she very carefully looked for the left click button on the mouse and clicked it, only to find that the cursor had inexplicably moved off her target, rendering her click ineffective. "It WAS in the right spot," she said, and looked accusingly at the mouse. 


Finally we introduced her to Gmail, explaining that she would need to choose a login name and password to get an account -- her name, something that described her, etc.


"How about 'Prettywoman'?" she said.


"I'm pretty sure that one's already taken," the Hero said. "But it was a good one."


Finally, after some careful thought, she settled on her choices. Then came the task of trying to decipher and replicate the randomly generated code of numbers and letters to prove that we were actually humans. These markings look like something Alice might have encountered in Wonderland, and are no doubt some sort of intelligence test, which the Hero and I fail miserably whenever we attempt it ("Is that xjhcopt? Could be rmkbl626..."). 


If you get this code wrong, the computer gives you an even HARDER one, as if that is going to be any help. Finally, evidently taking pity on our obviously low intelligence, the computer gave us an extremely easy code along with this message: "If you can't get this one, you really are morons."


It took my mother a few reminders to not put any spaces in her login name and password, but eventually she seemed to enjoy this freedom of restraint, and when we finally progressed to writing the body of the e-mail her sentences looked like this: "HithisisMom.Areyoutwobehavingyourselves?"


The Hero sent her a test message to practice opening and reading her mail. "When you're done with it, you archive it," he said. She started to click on Archive.


"Whoa," I said.


I personally did not see the need for haste in moving anything out of the inbox. "You could just leave it where it is," I told her.


The Hero strongly disapproved of this, and felt that I was teaching her bad habits right from the start. "This is why you have fifteen thousand messages in your inbox," he said darkly.


She practiced logging in and out a few times and getting the mouse up to a slow cruise. When she had had enough for one day, we congratulated her on her achievements, and said that now we would expect to get some e-mails from her.


"Ha," she said, but it was a little less cynical this time.


Note: This may well be the last posting to mention the Queen Mum, for as soon as she masters e-mail she will no doubt demand to know how to access this blog, and, well, it might be better to find a new topic.

Stuff even a thief couldn't love

Recently there was a robbery not far from our house, which made the Hero and I consider two very important questions: One, if someone were to break into OUR house, what would they most likely take, and two, how could we get them to take all the other stuff that they would most likely not take, and that frankly even WE don't want? 


We imagined a scenario in which thieves came to our house, while we were at home, looking for valuables:


Thieves (in a threatening manner): Give us all your valuables.


Us: Uh, sure...we heard you might be coming, so we got together a few things.


Thieves (looking over the collection of items in several bags): Hey, not bad...some electronics...hey, what's with all these books in here?


Us: Well, we took the liberty of adding a few other things we thought you might be interested in...


Thieves: We don't want no books.


Hero: Well, this math book here is pretty valuable.


Thieves: It is?


Hero (excitedly): Sure. It describes the theory of chaos. 


Thieves: Nah. We don't want nothing like that.


Hero: Look, I'll even throw in this one -- now THIS one you'll like. It's about Fermat's theorem, see, and this guy says that...


Thieves (backing away from the bag): Uh, what else ya got around here?


Us: (pointing to an object of indeterminate function and form) Well, you'd really be helping us out if you took this.


Thieves (dubiously): What is it?


Us (in a shocked tone): You don't KNOW?


Thieves: Nope.


Us: Neither do we. It might have been a chair once. But HERE'S a fantastic kitchen island. It falls apart every time you try to open the drawer, and it's kind of big, but...we'll help you load it into your truck. No trouble at all! And we'll throw in our old paint cans, too. All 26 of them! There might even be some paint left in them...Oh -- and how about this old wooden ladder? It's kinda got some mold on it, but that should come off pretty easy. Now here's a bag of shells we picked up from the beach last summer -- whoo! Didn't realize how much they smelled like the sea! And what about --


Thieves (run away screaming, leaving their truck and our valuables behind) 


Us: Rats. NOW what do we do with all this stuff?


Thieves (at police station, huffing and panting): We want to -- to turn ourselves in.


Cops: Huh?


Thieves: We're begging you. PLEASE take us into custody. We can't take these people anymore.


Cops: What people?


Us (entering station): THERE you guys are! You forgot your stuff!


Thieves: Aaaaggggghhh! Quick! Throw us in the slammer! 


Cops: Uh, mind telling us what's going on here?


Us: Well, these two guys tried to rob our home --


Cops: They did, huh?


Us: Yes, but they weren't very cooperative about it. Some people just don't appreciate what you try to do for them.


Cops: Huh?


Us: They wouldn't take all our stuff. Here, maybe YOU would like some mathematics books...? No? Here's some cookbooks that are a little worn...every other page or so missing...Or how about a slightly used plunger?


Cops (run away screaming)


After this, we would quietly leave our bags of belongings in the station, make our way home, and when the next shift of police came to the house to return our stuff, we would deny that it was ours. "What, that old thing? Never saw it before. We're not bringing THAT in our house."

Start your engines!

Because of the challenging terrain of our neighborhood -- steep hills, sharp bends in the road, narrow streets that, in the wintertime, may have a tough time accommodating two passing chickens -- getting out of the neighborhood in the morning is not unlike playing a video game. Although of course in THIS game the idea is to NOT kill anyone or blow anything up. Despite this, it can be quite a thrilling ride.


The game goes something like this:


Level 1: Is it Tuesday? If so, it is Garbage Pick-up Day, and you must work your car around the garbage truck and several workers who leap onto and off of the truck periodically (such as when you are trying to pass). Although the truck is of normal size when seen on a typical road, on our narrow street it swells to about the size of the larger cruise ships today.


To make things more interesting, the garbage truck freely and without warning moves from one side of the road to the other, so just as you are planning to make your move around it, it will suddenly block your path. Failure to successfully maneuver around the truck will trigger derisive laughter from the men perched on the back. Be aware that, no matter how much you might be tempted to knock them off, you will NOT gain any bonus points by doing so.


You can, however, score bonus points by avoiding the flying garbage cans. The alternative is to risk being crushed by them.


If it is Friday, the same game will be played out with the recycling truck instead.


Level 2: If you successfully negotiate Level 1, you will advance to Level 2. In this level, just as you are about to turn from the parking area onto the street, about 19 racing cyclists will hurtle out of the darkness around the corner toward you, their eerie, piercing blue lights threatening to put out your sight permanently. These cyclists, although fast by two-wheeled standards, are nevertheless, if you are in a car, equivalent to a band of tortoises. You are faced with a difficult choice: Do you follow along behind this band for what will seem like the distance between Oklahoma and Kissimmee, Florida, or pull around them and, because of the limited sight around the curves, risk running into something solid, like the back of the garbage truck? Very advanced players may choose a third alternative: avoid the cyclists altogether by ascending the Hill of Death (see Level 3).


Level 3: In Level 3, you (after signing various waiver forms and making sure your will is up to date) drive up an extremely steep street that SAYS it is two-way, but which was originally intended as a sidewalk, on which it was expected that only one person at a time, on foot, would traverse (sideways). On one side of the street, sitting pretty much in the street itself, are several houses; on the other side is a steep drop-off. If you meet a car coming from the opposite direction, the only way to pass is for one of you to drive off the cliff. The object is to not be this car.


Level 4: If you manage to stay on the track through the first three levels, you will then find your route blocked by a large meat-delivery truck trying to back up to an opening at the meat store. Because the space is tight, the truck will have to back up, pull forward into the street, back up, pull forward, back up, pull -- where was I? -- oh, yes, this can go on for quite some time, so you may be tempted to go around the truck. Theoretically this is possible, as there will be a small space between the truck and the shoulder on the opposite side of the road, but here you face two potential dangers: Being crushed by the truck as it is in the "pull out into the street" phase, or meeting head-on another car coming from the opposite direction. The results could disqualify you from the game, which would be seriously annoying.


At any time during this game, white-tailed deer may randomly run out from the trees onto the road in front of you. If you hit one, you could incur heavy penalties and be forced to spend time in the pit stop while your car is repaired. This could put you severely behind in your commute (like a week or two).


The game is timed, so you must do all this within the allotted time OR risk missing your commuter train, which launches you into a whole new video game (one which we, thankfully, have not yet played).


Also to increase the challenge in this game, you can play it IN THE DARK, which by default occurs from approximately mid-August to mid-April. So, most of the year. 


If you make it past Level 4 and avoid all the deer, AND finish on time, congratulations! You may proceed to work.


(Occasionally there is an initial hurdle set up by the Hero, whose arm acts as a gate across me while in bed, pinning me in place as I am about to get up. The other morning he muttered something about how this keeps me from getting into trouble. I'm not sure what mischief I could be causing when the first number on the clock is still a 4 when I get up, but apparently it is enough of a concern to activate the Hero Arm Guard.)

Old news in a new way

I have been contemplating stopping delivery of our daily newspaper, for good, for several reasons. For one, as has been lamented before in this blog, one can almost find more news, and better reporting, in a second-grade student report on the class gerbil.


Another reason, not unrelated to the first, is that on many days the paper goes directly from the front walk, into the house, and back out to the front walk unread and still neatly folded, to be borne away and given a new life as some other product -- and deservedly so, as it never had a first life in our house. We are contemplating telling the delivery person to just save us a few steps, and put the newspaper right into recycling.


Another reason for wanting to cancel the paper is that these days, of course, there are plenty of other outlets, many free, by which we can get the news. For me, a major outlet is one that I do not even need to subscribe to: strangers on the train who feel compelled to share random bits of information with me.


Last week a gentleman sitting next to me on the train was reading The Washington Post, and I, at the time, was NOT reading The Washington Post. This quickly changed. Suddenly he turned to me and said, "You need to drink more coffee."


The newspaper moved closer to me, and a finger jabbed at a box of text on the page. The box announced, in large type, that a new study showed that women who drink several cups of coffee a day are less likely to experience depression. 


I quickly ran through likely scenarios of why he thought I needed to know this, and came up with:


a) I look tired, and therefore must not be drinking much coffee
b) I look depressed
c) I look tired and depressed


Clearly, having the news delivered this way, by an impartial observer, has some advantages over more traditional news delivery methods. As this example shows, it can cause you to think critically about how the news pertains to you personally. It also offers the opportunity for thoughtful discussion of important topics with other persons, such as "Why do you think I would need to know this? Huh?? Do I look tired? Do I look depressed??" etc.


A co-worker had evidently heard about the same study, although she seems to have come across it on her own, without help from any strangers who thought she might not be getting enough stimulants. The finding did not seem to her to have much practical value for women who were already depressed.


"If you're depressed," she said, "you don't want to get out of bed. If you don't get out of bed, you can't get coffee. How are these depressed women supposed to get their coffee? Is someone supposed to BRING it to them in bed? And then stand there and make them drink it?"


The Hero's reaction upon hearing the study findings was quite different, and yet equally analytical. If I recall correctly, it was something like, "Well, duh."


To him the findings are yet one more proof that coffee is "Humankind's Best Friend" (trademark pending). He firmly believes that it will rank throughout history as one of the world's greatest inventions, right up there with the polio vaccine and Google. As to the concern that already depressed women would not be able to get out of bed to start on their medical regimen of coffee, he says, "Pfft" (loosely paraphrased). "What other reason is there to get out of bed in the morning?"


For some of us, it's to get our news on the train.

Techno-babble on loan

I see that our local library, in an effort to keep pace with technology and to help patrons do the same, is now offering e-readers for loan. The e-readers come with a preloaded, varied selection of books ("What Is an E-Reader?" "How to Use Your E-Reader," "Repairing Damage to Your Wall Where You Threw Your E-Reader at It," etc.). As with any new technology, we imagine that there will be a learning curve for at least some patrons encountering the e-readers...


A hypothetical library patron, here referred to as Clueless Reader,* is gazing at the e-reader display. He is soon joined by a Helpful Librarian.


Helpful Librarian: I see you're looking at our new e-readers. Are you interested in using the Nook? 


Clueless Reader (startled): The what, now?


Librarian (gesturing): The Nook. 


Clueless Reader (suspiciously): Nook...you mean that contraption they put in babies' mouths to keep them quiet? Just what are you suggest --


Librarian (hastily): No, no, sir, I was talking about the e-reader here -- it's called the Nook.


CR: An e-reader, you say?


L: Yes, this is an e-reader. It allows you to read a book.


CR: Come again? I need that thing to read a book?


L: Well, to read electronic books -- actually, it has 34 books already loaded on it that you can read. These Nooks are all 3G/wireless. Would you like to go ahead and check one out?


CR (muttering): What I'd like is someone who speaks English.


L: Perhaps you'd like to borrow the Play-Away version instead, sir.


CR (sternly): Now look here. I want to borrow a BOOK.


L (confused): I -- you want a what, now?...A book? (scratches head) Well, er...


CR (turns to leave): Never mind. I'll just stick with the newspaper.


L (confused): Newspaper...?

________

*Note: Clueless Reader does not resemble anyone living or dead or anyone we know.