by jphilo | Jun 30, 2011 | Daily Life
Sunday afternoon, for the first time ever, I bellied up to the Apple Genius Bar.
Now don’t get the wrong idea, silly. I wasn’t on the genius side of the counter, though I’m flattered by your faulty thinking. No, I was on the side where the ignoramuses sit, the side upon which the rays of genius fall rather than emanate.
So why was I schlepping to the Genius Bar on a sunny June, Sunday afternoon?
Looking for some genius to perform some techie CPR on my MacBook Pro which was dead, dead, dead. I mean really dead. No lights twinkling anywhere. Not even on the power cord. No matter which outlet I plugged into. No matter how much I fiddled with the cord or pushed buttons. Yep, my sweet, little laptop was a goner. Until the genius at the Genius Bar (did I mention the nearest Apple Store is 45 minutes away) plugged it in. Then it started charging like crazy and powered up without a hitch.
Confirmation that I was appropriately seated on the ignoramus side of the Genius Bar.
The genius was really nice about it. He ran some diagnostics to be sure my turncoat of a laptop was functioning properly. It was. And he gave me a new prong thingy for my adaptor cord, since the prongs on the old one were acting funky. So the trip wasn’t a complete waste.
But I don’t think he’s going to recommend I join him on his side of the Genius Bar.
Which is perfectly fine by me. Because the Apple Store was absolutely packed, even on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon in June. Kids working the iPads, iPods, and computers with ease. Geeks in blue shirts patiently showing people our age how a touch screen works. Think Sesame Street and Big Bang Theory meet Grumpy, Old Men and The Golden Girls.
Who would want to work in a place like that anyway?
by jphilo | Jun 10, 2011 | Daily Life
Summer is here – blessedly cooler today than earlier this week – so the weather is perfectly perfect for diving into a good book. I’ve been dipping into plenty, though you’d never know it from the dearth of book reviews posts lately. To catch up, I’d need to write a review a day for several weeks, and that’s not gonna happen when the weather’s this nice.
Instead, today’s post will be a summer book exchange. I share my list, with a pithy comment or two, and you share your list. Then we can feel warm and fuzzy about the fabulous reads we agree upon. Of course, we may also feel hopelessly overwhelmed by the books we don’t have time to read. But I’m not going to be a Debbie Downer and mention the thought because who needs a Debbie Downer on a cool. pleasant day like today?
Anyway, here goes. Here are 10 of my recent reads – some still in progress:
- One of Our Thursdays is Missing by Jasper Fforde – I’m 4/5 of the way through the audio version of #6 in the Thursday Next Series. It is fabulous, as good as books 1 – 4, and much easier to follow than was #5.
- The Scared Child by Barbara Brooks – Only read this book if you like to punish yourself or are researching a book on post-traumatic stress disorder in kids.
- Gentling: A Practical Guide to Treating PTSD in Abused Children by William E. Krill – Ditto The Scared Child.
- Clinical Work with Traumatized Young Children edited by Joy D. Osofsky – Ditto The Scared Child again, and this book proves that most social workers should not become writers.
- Catch 22 by Joseph Heller – My “let’s dip into a modern classics” choice this summer. I’m about 2/3 through with it, not sure I have the fortitude to finish it, though it is funny in a MASH kind of way.
- The Ape House by Sara Gruen – Not nearly as good as Water for Elephants. If you’re short on time, don’t read this one.
- House Rules by Jodi Picoult – Awesome portrait of a teen with autism. Read it!
- Cider House Rules by John Irving – Read it because A Prayer for Owen Meany is a fave of mine. This book has the same kind of compelling, quirky, complex characters and dilemmas. But the message isn’t nearly as good.
- Doc by Mary Doria Russell – A retelling of the Doc Holliday story that shows Doc and the gang in a kindly light. The audiobook performance is superb. The book is excellent until near the end, when the author seemed to run out of steam.
- Bossypants by Tina Fey – She narrates the audio version, which made it worth my time. Not sure I would read the book otherwise.
Now, leave a comment about what you’re reading this summer and which books were worth your time. If you say it’s good, I’ll give it a whirl!
by jphilo | Jun 6, 2011 | Daily Life
This past week has been one of breathtaking developments. Maybe not for the pert and perky spring chickens of the younger generation who take change in stride. But for droopy, stringy old hens like me, life on the Philo bullet train is way disconcerting. For instance:
- The weather changed over night from furnace required to air conditioning necessary without a nod to the customary month of spring sleeping weather.
- The peonies, which were barely budding last Monday, are loaded with crispy critter blossoms thanks to the heat and wind.
- Two of Anne’s age mate cousins have signed teaching contracts for next year. Last I remember, they were all still in diapers.
- Hiram ran Dam to Dam half marathon on Saturday, so his life no longer revolves around when to run, how long to run, where to run, how fast to run, losing weight to run fast, refusing deserts so he can run fast…you get the picture. Which means he’s once again eating chocolate and ice cream (in moderation of course), and I’m once again allowed to make the occasional dessert. So, not all change is bad, though it’s too hot to turn on the oven.
- The editor sent the edits of Different Dream Parenting last week. So my life is now slave to the June 27 deadline for my edits to go back to her. So I might be a little preoccupied and testy until after June 27. And there will be no time to bake desserts, which is a moot point since it’s too hot to turn on the oven.
A brief analysis of these developments leads to one inevitable recommendation for weathering the changes: stock up on ice cream and chocolate.
This droopy old, stringy old hen is jiggy with that.
by jphilo | Jun 3, 2011 | Daily Life
My perky little nose is a tad out of joint today for a number of reasons. I’m gonna unpack right now, so get ready for a bucketload.
Reason #1: On Wednesday I went to Iowa Public Employment Retirement Services (IPERS) and completed the paperwork to start drawing my pension. Which means I turn 55 on my birthday this July. (This is when you say, “No way you can be turning 55, Jolene. You’re one hot mama,” or something to that effect.)
Reason #2: Later on Wednesday, I was interviewed by a young woman who ask me to guest blog at Bignity Ventures, a special needs site which will go live in a couple weeks. Jamie Openden’s the creative force behind the venture, a speech therapist with a vision for helping kids with special needs. She’s also young. In fact, she’s the same age as my son. They were born the same month. Try that on for size, why don’t ya?
Reason #3: On Thursday I moved at lightning speed to get to my 8:40 AM eye appointment on time. Turned out, I was more than on time. I was early. 24 hours early. My appointment was for Friday.
Your bucketful of reasons for this perky little nose to be out of joint looks pretty full, so I won’t bother to mention the eye doctor found calcium deposits below my eye (caused by my old lady calcium supplements), the need to change my vision prescription, or closing out the college savings account we opened for our youngest child when she was born. (Yeah, that daughter – the one who graduated from college last month.)
I won’t mention those things, because doing so might sound whiny, and whiny, almost fifty-five-year-old women are so unattractive. Plus, my nose is plenty out of joint and doesn’t need an image problem added to the mix. So forget I even mentioned the calcium deposits, the changed vision prescription, and the closed out savings account, okay?
Just repeat this sentence – “No way you can be turning 55, Jolene. You’re one hot mama!” – about a bazillion times. Then leave a comment on my blog to that effect, post it as your FB status, tweet it, whatever.
My perky little nose is feeling better already.
by jphilo | May 24, 2011 | Daily Life
With age comes deterioration. And since turning 50 a few years back, the signs are pointing to a pretty rapid deterioration in this aging bird. Case in point: Until stumbling upon and reading this post from May 21, 2009 I had completely forgotten about the great bee invasion. Now, wouldn’t you think sharing the living room with more than 30 bees would be a memorable occasion for a non-deteriorating person? Before you answer the question, read this recycled post. And one more thing. The bees haven’t invaded since 2009, so our house is safe for visitors. Y’all come!
The Great Bee Invasion of ’09
I am pleased to announce that the Great Bee Invasion of ’09 has ended without a single human casualty. The thirty-some bees who claimed our living room as their own weren’t quite so fortunate, and we have no way to garner an accurate count of those Hiram gassed to death. Our best guess is that a whole bunch died.
What we now recognize as enemy scouts had been buzzing around the living room for the past couple days. But we kept them under control with the fly swatter until yesterday afternoon when the invaders launched their troop surge, and they grew so noisy, I couldn’t concentrate on writing. I inflicted minor damage with the fly swatter again, but the buzzing grew louder. A closer look at the double windows on the north wall revealed dozens of bees frantically searching for a route outdoors.
A trip outside and I found the north side of the house a-buzz with bees swarming the foundation. The fly swatter wasn’t much use against those numbers. It was time for the big guns. “Hiram,” I yelled.
A few moments later, my husband, my knight with shining insecticide, attacked the ravaging hoards with numerous cans of bug killer which he later explained he had rescued from Mom’s garage when we cleaned out her house. Once the frontal attack was underway, I cleaned up the remaining pockets of resistance buzzing around the living room windows. Soon the wood floor was littered with striped bodies convulsed by death throes.
We had a quiet night, but this morning, one bold and foolish fella dive-bombed my journal while I was writing. I barely blinked, just whacked him good and brushed him to the floor. Who knows how many other diehards still lurk in dark corners, waiting to attack again? Just in case, I’m keeping the fly swatter handy.
Life is tough along our gravel road. The bees can tell you that the people who live here are tougher. Well, they would tell you if they weren’t dead. But they are dead, so if you’re thinking of invading our house, heed this warning. We’re armed with fly swatters and bug killer. You’d best run for your lives, cowboy.
by jphilo | May 5, 2011 | Daily Life
Most of the year, the view from east our bedroom window is run-of-the-mill.
Our lawn.
The neighbor’s driveway.
The rise of a hill and woods in the distance.
But for a few days each spring, our view is a thing of beauty…
If a warm March doesn’t lure the magnolia buds to become vulnerable too early.
If a hard April frost doesn’t destroy the emerging blossoms.
If a wayward May frost doesn’t nip the delicate, fully opened flowers.
This cold spring held the magnolia tree captive until the end of April.
When the sun finally coax the timid blossoms into bright and glorious bloom.
When my mother was here, sleeping in our bedroom with the magnificent view.
When we slept upstairs, the lovely flowers out of our sight line.
“That magnolia tree is lovely,” she said.
“I like to lay in bed and look at it,” she said.
“It is so pretty,” she said.
The wind blew on the day she left.
The tree limbs waved in greeting as we moved into our room with the view.
The next morning I photographed the sight.
The morning after that a glittering, May frost covered the ground.
The magnificent view was gone for another year, maybe longer.
Except for in my mother’s world.
For her, the view is still unsullied.
For her, the tree still blooms bright and pink.
For her, the sun still streams through the east window.
In her memory, perfection remains.
May it always be.
