Skyping 'bout school

(Not from Skype, but the happy face that filled the screen just the same.)

Bubby is attending "school" this week, participating in the summer camp for two-year-olds at church while Megan works the VBS. He loves the class, the interaction with the "teacher" and other kids, and he had lots to share with us about his day during our Skype session Tuesday night.

First he held up to the web camera his newly planted flower: a Play-Doh container packed with dirt, and somewhere within, a seed he's hoping will bloom. Relying on Megan to translate, Bubby told Grandma and Grandpa all about the "dirt," the "flower" and "water." We kinda sorta understood those words ... as long as Megan repeated them for us.

Next up was a picture of which Bubby was oh-so proud: A popsicle-stick frame embellished with glued-on buttons perfectly complementing a plant picture cut from a magazine. High art for a toddler!

Seems that "plants" was the theme of the day, and Bubby learned lots about plants in his few hours of "school." And he was more focused than usual during the Skype session, as he wanted to be sure Grandma and Grandpa heard -- and saw -- all he had gleaned from the day.

It was pretty exciting on our end to get our first glimpse of what it will be like when Bubby calls us up after a day of real school, to animatedly share via Skype the news -- and art projects -- of the day.

Only thing is, Bubby and Grandpa will have to come up with some other male-bonding motion by that time, as doing "knucks" at the end of the conversation already rocks and knocks the computer monitor on Bubby's end. I can only imagine what it will do when it's a five-year-old -- or older -- punching fists on the screen with Grandpa!

Today's question:

When recalling doing art projects as a child, what's one thing that stands out in your mind?

My answer: The smell of the paste. I remember the tubs of paste with a stick applicator attached to the lid and trying to spread the goo where it needed to go. Of course it never applied smoothly, thanks to the rigid stick, so cutouts glued to paper always had a lump here and there. I loved squishing down those bumps of glue, releasing the sweet scent of a masterpiece in the making.

Skype time

Bubby left yesterday -- with Daddy alone, no Mommy! -- to visit his grandma and grandpa on the plains. That, of course, required a quick Skype session with this grandma and grandpa before he left.

Here's how it went:

Hey, Bub! Yay, It's Grandma and Grandpa! Time to show them how goofy I can be. And let them know I've got ALL my teeth now! Look how quickly I can shake my head ... back and forth over and over! That's right ... I'm a silly one! But I can smile sweet, too. And listen really well. And look: I have two feet now! I can meow back at Isabel when you hold her to the camera. Meows, of course, must be followed by fish sounds. Did I mention all my teeth? This is the bedtime song I sing with Mommy: Love, love, love, love. I like to sway back and forth when we sing it. It just makes me want to love, love Mommy! Time to go! Here's a kiss! Kissing the monitor is so silly!

Saying buh-bye is always a little sad.

Today's question (from my trivia calendar, but fitting):

In the world of high-tech messages, you no doubt know what spam is; but how about spim and spit?

The answer: I'll tell you after a few comments; just curious if anyone knows. I didn't.

Update on 2010-05-06 15:53 by Lisa Carpenter

ANSWER TO THE QUESTION: After seeing that most folks are as in the dark about spim and spit as I was, here's the answer. Spim is spam sent through instant messaging and spit is spam sent through Internet telephone (ie Skype). There ya have it -- you've all learned your one new thing for the day!

How I compute: then and now

My computer has become a sinking ship and this week I started frantically trying to rescue what I could from it before it's totally sunk. The lifeboat in which I'm transferring my bits and bytes: a laptop, my first laptop ever.

I purchased my now-dying desktop in 2004. It's been a good six years, with lots and lots and LOTS of changes, not only in computing but in my life. Those changes are evident in the way I spend my time on the computer, then versus now.

Then

Here's how I spent most of my computer time in 2004:

• Reading parenting, entertainment and news articles.

• Writing parenting articles ... for print publications.

• Keeping tabs on my middle and youngest daughters who were 539 miles away at college, via MySpace, chatting and e-mail.

• Regularly accessing the Occupational Outlook Handbook to help my youngest daughter figure out what degree/career to pursue.

• Playing computer games: Mahjong, You Don't Know Jack, Wheel of Fortune.

Now

Here's how I now spend most of my time on the computer:

• Blogging about my grandson.

• Researching ways to improve the blogging about my grandson.

• Reading other blogs -- 52 subscriptions in my RSS Reader.

• Looking for work, freelance or otherwise.

• Wasting timePromoting my blog on Facebook and now Twitter.

Good thing my shiny new laptop has a pretty darn good graphics card because by the looks of this comparison, I've become blog-obsessed, boring and in need of a game or two.

Or maybe, just maybe, what I really need is to step away from the computer and appreciate the aspects of my life not measured in bits, bytes and Google page ranks.

Which I'll definitely do -- after I get my shiny new laptop all set up and ready for blogging.

Today's question:

How do you spend the majority of your time on the computer?

Never say never

Saturday I did something I said I'd never do: I joined Twitter.* I've made snarky comments about Twitter since its inception as I think it's rather stupid. But I joined it anyway ... despite having said I never would.

It's another in an ever-growing list of things I've said I'll never do, then I do them. Here are just a few examples:

• I said I'd never blog. And I do ... often ... obviously.

• I said I'd never join Facebook. And did. And have a profile for myself as well as a fan page for Grandma's Briefs.

• I said -- along with Jim -- that we'd never move from the house that we lived in for nearly 20 years, in which we raised our three daughters, completed beau coup improvements and enjoyed pretty darn low mortgage payments. And we did move ... to a house double its size. (So much for downsizing as empty-nesters.)

• I said I'd never be able to learn how to give myself shots -- with a needle, not a shot glass. And I did. And I do ... every darn day.

• I said I'd never know how to read music. Then I took piano lessons and learned. So now I do -- even though I still have to recite "every good boy does fine" and "all cows eat grass." But that's okay.

• I said -- again, along with Jim -- that I'd never visit Megan and Preston during the summer when the decided to make their home in the crazy hot desert. Then Bubby was born in June, so we visited a couple times that summer. Then again the following summer for his first birthday. And now we're looking at visiting again this summer for his second birthday.

I've obviously not done what I said. So I hereby swear that I will never say never again.

Maybe.

*You're welcome to follow me on Twitter: @GrandmasBriefs. I'll never guarantee the quality nor quantity of any tweets that may come your way courtesy of me. And THAT never I totally completely stand by.

Today's question:

How about you? What's something you said you'd never do ... then did?

Stupid is as stupid does

I recently received a few compliments from readers about my technical ability and Internet know-how. I was pretty surprised, as I feel rather in the dark about all things HTML related, the language that makes blogging possible. I do know a bit about the Internet and I am pretty darn good at researching this and that online. But I wouldn't say I'm savvy.

I used to think I was pretty darn savvy with the Internet. Heck, I hopped online back in the early 90s -- and had the Prodigy account to prove it! But I now keep my pride and puffery about all things online in check by remembering my biggest online faux pas ever. It involved e-mail. And a few Grandma's Briefs readers know about the horror of which I speak.

Several years ago -- during my pseudo-savvy period -- I was the manager/editor of a small editorial department at the newspaper. At the time of which I write, I was in charge of three writers and one photographer. Because our "office" was just a set of open cubicles in a sea of other open cubicles, privacy was at a minimum. So we used e-mail for many a conversation.

The e-mailed conversations were usually between myself and the three women writers; our male photographer rarely, if ever, joined our e-mailed bitching and complaining. (The IT Department, on the other hand, probably saw each and every pixel we parsed out.) Of the three women with whom I corresponded, one, whom I'll call T, was a rather young gal ... actually so young that years and years earlier, she had been in my Daisy Girl Scout troop. I was her leader, the one who taught her about honor, kindness, how to "Be Prepared" and how to make homemade fortune cookies. T was engaged to a real numbskull of a ninny posing as a man, and as the young gal was younger than my daughters, I felt rather maternal toward her -- and more than a little irritated that her parents hadn't stepped in to put the kibbutz on the relationship with the ninny.

Well, T didn't last long working at the newspaper, but once she left, she still e-mailed us all often and was occasionally privy to the daily e-mail exchange among office mates. One day T sent an e-mail to us three older and wiser former coworkers talking about plans she and her now husband had. I can't remember the details, just that it was a rather naive plan, yet T thought it proved her maturity. I was appalled at her stupidity, her misguidededness, and I immediately e-mailed a reply to the other two older/wiser women in the group to air my bewilderment at T's plan and her penchant for the dumb ass she called her husband.

Only, I didn't hit "Reply" to just the two older/wiser women; I hit "Reply All." Which meant T got my the message ... quickly. She got the message that I wasn't the nice Daisy leader she once called Miss Lisa. Instead, I was a mean and bitter old woman who said mean and bitter things to someone to whom I once served as a mentor, someone who was just young and naive and trying to make her way in the world.

I was horrified that someone as e-mail and Internet savvy as myself could commit such a basic error of online correspondence (and judgement!). What a dunce was I.

I immediately (after freaking out to my coworkers) e-mailed T, privately, to apologize for the things I said. She graciously accepted my apology ... and never e-mailed me again. Which I deserved.

The young gal whom I once taught about manners then later interview techniques taught me even greater lessons. Not only did she teach me to always, always, ALWAYS check to see which reply option I've chosen when sending an e-mail, she also taught me that I should never, ever, EVER be snippy, snotty and snarky.

Especially not in writing.*

That, my dear readers, is why I will never consider myelf savvy -- online or otherwise.

*I'm embarrassed to admit that, unfortunately, I occasionally need refresher courses in those lessons. But I'm working on it.

Today's question:

With whom did you most memorably stick your foot in your mouth ... or send an e-mail that should not have been sent?