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?

Sad story - a re-posting

Last Friday, a mourning dove bashed into my dining room window so hard it killed it, pine needle for the nest it was building still in its mouth as it lay dying on the ground beneath the window. It was very, very sad.

It made me think of a post I wrote about this time last year for my other blog, a personal blog I now rarely (if ever) post to. Rather than rehashing that post, I'll just go ahead and copy and paste it for ya here. Beware, it's kind of sad ... hence the title.

Sad Story

For several weeks, I've watched from my window as two mourning doves (my favorite birds) created a home in the juniper bush outside my study. I've seen the evolution of their nest, from a few pine needles to a full-blown home. The nest quickly became the full-time residence of what I first thought was a dedicated mama bird, never leaving the spot in the name of her soon-to-come (or maybe they were already there) eggs. Dad would stop by occasionally to see how things were going ... and feed her, I hoped.

Then one day I witnessed a shift change. It was TWO dedicated parents, not one! It was a true co-parenting deal, with each bird taking a turn keeping up the home front while the other grabbed a snack. No slacker dad here ... he shared the duties willingly and just as efficiently as his partner.

Day in and day out, one of them was there. I appreciated their presence while I typed away at the computer, finding solace in the fact that although I faced rough times and what seemed to be an imminent death in the family, hope springs eternal as new life begins (or would soon, just outside my window).

The mourning doves' dedication to their nest was fierce. Snowstorms, high winds, dark nights didn't phase them. Someone walking by to take out the trash, come and go from the car or take pictures (yeah, I did that right next to them!) didn't scare them off. But then the neighbor's lawnmower did - and when the parents left, I saw the precious babies they'd been diligently protecting. I snapped as many pictures as possible before Mom (or was it Dad) returned.

Then I waited ... and waited ... and waited. For days on end, I'd give updates to the family and call them over now and then to see how Mom/Dad stayed no matter the weather - even when the snow had weighed down the branch above the nest so that it nearly touched the head of the parent on duty. I even e-mailed updates to my mom, who happened to be here the day the nest building began and was just as impressed with my front-row seat.

I was anxiously awaiting the day the shells cracked, little chirps would be heard, and Mama bird would drop goodies into the wide-open beaks of her hungry babies. I'd catch it all on my camera, documenting the growth of the chicks through my study window.

Then yesterday, a day not any colder than many we've had during the nesting phase, Mom and Dad were nowhere to be found. All day I wondered if I'd just been missing them, if birds take off when it's time for the babies to emerge so as not to squish them yet keep watch from afar.

But time stretched on and it became clear Mom and Dad would not be returning - and no babies would be emerging from the shells. For whatever reason - and I have to assume it's natural, not that Mom and Dad just decided they weren't cut out for parenting and headed off to sunnier days and carefree lives - the eggs would not be hatching.

And I would not be witnessing a precious rite of spring from my window. Nope, now I just stare sadly at the two lone - and likely hard and cold - baby eggs outside my window, wondering what to do with them ... or if I should do anything with them at all.

Today's question:

How many bird feeders do you have in your yard?

My answer: Three feeders, one birdbath and one house, plus one hummingbird feeder we've not yet put out because it's still too early in the season.

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?

5 things I'll never write about

I read a lot of blogs. I didn't used to, but since becoming a blogger, I'm interested in what other folks are blogging about, where they get their ideas, how they express the little -- and big -- things in life in a way that intrigues readers day after day. My RSS reader feeds me a steady diet of food for thought.

Lately, some of that food has been pretty foreign to me. Not foreign in the sense that I'm reading posts in Chinese or Swahilian (is that the correct word?). Just foreign in the sense that I've read a lot of posts of late on topics that I, myself, cannot imagine writing about.

I admire folks who have the guts to let it all hang out, especially if they can let it all hang out and elicit a chuckle at the same time. I sometimes even enjoy reading the posts of such folks, even if I'm slightly horrified, deeply depressed or uncomfortably embarrassed by and/or for the blogger. But I personally can't write like that. I'm not that kind of a blogger. I'm not that kind of a person.

So just to let you all know -- in case you're looking for something a little dirty or depressing deeper, a little more raunchy revealing in the blogs you frequent -- there are five things you'll never read about here on Grandma's Briefs. Feel free to unsubscribe or remove me from your favorites or vow to never again visit www.grandmasbriefs.com if this admission reveals to you that I'm just not your kind of gal, your kind of blogger. I understand.

Here, all based on posts I've recently read (and often, in all honesty, even chuckled about and read through to the end), are the Five Things I Will Never Write About.

1. Sex with my husband. (Is it anyone's business? I don't think so.)

2. Play-by-play of a pap smear, mammogram or Brazilian wax. (I'm not humorous enough to make such posts good reads for anyone.)

3. Masturbation. ('Nuff said.)

4. Chronic complaints of my chronic disease/disability. (Does whining, complaining, sounding like a hypochondriac begging for pity focusing on it make it any better? Not for me.)

5. Details on the wacky, weird, effed-up family interactions that take place -- on my side of the family tree, on Jim's, or within our immediate nest. (Yeah, sometimes they can be funny, touching, revealing. And sometimes I'll allude to them. But you'll never get details. Sorry. Effed-up or not, they're family, loved ones, folks I don't want to alienate, folks who don't deserve their dirty laundry to be flapping in the wind for all 10 of my readers to see.)

There you have it. I'd love for you to stick around, but if I'm not what you're looking for, I understand your need to move on. And hey, I can even recommend some blogs that offer such posts. They're often quite funny/touching/sad/horrifyingly hilarious ... and continue to show up on my RSS reader.

You just won't find that here. I'm not that kind of blogger.

Today's question:

What's one (non-intrusive, relatively impersonal) thing that most people don't know about you?