On Getting Ready to Be Social

            Whew. A few days rest from the basketball bouncing around in my head!! But here we go again! Yesterday, March Madness took off anew.

            The worst/best part about these games is that one sits too much and ponders what to eat next while watching! My thoughts turn to the refrigerator; the “meat keeper” area where I store the cheese sticks, beef jerky, and lo carb tortillas! Just a little won’t hurt, I say to my Paleo/Atkins/Lo Carb diet induced brain! Sooner or later, I head for the celery and the peanut butter!

            It’s amazing how much I can cram in my mouth when I am nervous and coaching from the couch!

            My friend Tilly says that since being involved in the March Madness frenzy, her body has gone into total shut down and that she needs to exercise and get with the program. If this basketball thing goes on any longer, we both will look like “Jabba the Hutt”….a blob of a thing that was a character in “Star Wars”.

            Fred and I did tear ourselves away from the television on Saturday night to attend a “Prairie Arts” dinner where the comedian kept us laughing for a good hour or more. That was a good thing…it made me spruce up the “basketball” neglected bod. It was an EFFORT!

            Polish toenails. Check. Wash hair. Set hair. Back comb hair. Spray hair. Check.

            Iron clothes. Try on clothes. Take off clothes. Iron more clothes. Try on clothes. Ah. That will work. Check.

            Select jewelry. Look for lost earring that goes with the necklace. Search everywhere. Find it in the little jar on the dresser. Check.

            Find a pair of shoes that goes with clothes that fit. Stand on step stool to reach shelf up high where the extra shoes can be found. Check.

            Change purse.  Take all the stuff out of big, ugly, black purse and jam it into little white basket purse. Look in mirror to see if little purse looks better! Yes. Check.

 I think I just might be ready.

            Now for Fred!  Fred is still sitting in the living room watching the last five minutes of one of the games.  “Fred, what are you going to wear?”

            “Oh. I don’t know. I think I will dress up. Wear a pair of dress pants and a nice shirt:”

            “Do you want me to iron something?”

            “No, I think I know what I am wearing?”

            “ Do you want your toenails painted? “ (hoping to get a rise out of him since I am walking around with my toes spread, drying …) Fred stares at the television.

            “How about plucking your eyebrows?” (When donkeys fly!)

            “Do you want me to set your hair?” ( ha ha) He’s still watching the game. I am non-existent.

            Fred answers with “No, it’s fine”, although I know he isn’t listening to me, really. I am trying to be funny and he is engrossed in catching parts of the game.

            “Which shoes are you going to wear?” (Fred has bunions and only has three pairs of shoes that fit so there’s no decision to be made here either!)

            Fred gets up to get ready.

            Soon, Mr. Fred comes out of the bedroom looking like ..well…very good…  and totally ready. He sits down in front of the TV to catch the last few minutes.

            I am now trying on my fifth outfit.

            Next comes fixing my face! The transformation begins!  First layer, second layer, eye shadow, eyebrow pencil, blush. Hmmm. Not bad.

Whew. This whole process sure required a lot of effort, and total dedication to one goal….Get out the door looking presentable.

            And Fred?

            Nothing to it

On March Madness

            Years ago…many years ago…I married a sports fan.

            For years I didn’t really “get” it. What was so interesting about all of this?!

            The basketball games looked alike to me, and they sounded the same. Squeak, squeak, (shoes on gym floor), crowd cheers, bands playing. Football was the same. Players running into each other and falling down in a pile, one of them holding a little oval ball up high and jumping up and down!

             Football teams, basketball teams, baseball teams…What was with all this attention to games about?

            They held one thing in common: all these games involved balls…Basketballs, Footballs, Golf balls, Racquetballs, and Baseballs

            All the games were based on balls of some sort....And these “balls” were the glue that connected the brain cells of the homo sapien male to other males of the same ilk!

            I still don’t really “get” it. But, I am now at least aware of the importance of balls.

            I first became aware of balls when I realized that I couldn’t “hit” one. In grade school when the “Freds” of the world were organizing sand lot baseball games or bouncing balls on cement surfaces, I had other interests.

            Had I learned how to hit a ball, ANY ball, at a young age, I would have been a better golfer, baseball batter, and ping pong player. I couldn’t even play tennis because I spent so much time running after the dang ball.

            Admittedly, I came into this marriage deficient in the “ball” arena!

            But, lately I have become a fan of watching balls!

            I think some of it may be senility, but also, there’s nothing much else worth watching on television anyway.

            If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

            This weekend, the National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) Tournament begins. We just ended the football season with the Super Bowl, and now, we culminate our season of basketball with this tournament!

            Oh joy untold.

            I have become a Kansas fan. I love KU basketball, and I support K State and Wichita as well. Also, its interesting to know the players and the coaches, and to follow their careers.

             So, several years ago, Fred encouraged me to fill out a “bracket”.

            A “bracket” is the listing of the 68 teams and their pairings in the next 4 weekends of play-offs. The bracket lists who plays who and gives their ranking (how many games they have won and lost as compared with the other teams in their league) and their win-loss record.

            The trick is to guess who will win each game, fill out the bracket, and select who will win the tournament.

            Do I know squat about who could win each playoff? Are you kidding?

            No, I just guess. I eventually fill out the bracket, and turn in my sheet full of erasures and scratches. My bracket is entered in a contest with others. I usually come up in the bottom 25% but never have been the last one at the bottom!

            That is a source of pride to me!

            Fred related that one gal who enters this contest does very well because she selects teams that live closest to her mother. Another female in the group picks according to how big the school is. Fred says that color of uniforms might also be a good way to select.

            But, of course, the guys don’t select winners this way. They have “knowledge”.

            Here’s why I do this bracket thing.

            When the tournament starts, I pay attention to who is playing and who is ahead. I look at my bracket, and of course, I want to win…I want to have guessed right. During the tournament, I may not watch games totally, but I watch the ones in which I have a special interest. I get pretty involved when I can see that my “pick” for any particular game is winning or catching up.

            I get nervous too. That’s the price one pays for getting involved in watching these games. The disappointments, the last minute shots that win a game, the crazy calls of referees, the tears, the incredible athleticism are all points of interest.

            And guess what amazes me the most? ….The ability to handle the BALL!

            Happy March Madness Month!

On Attending a Major Sports Event

            I am married to a human basketball/football head!  My guy is totally in his element when he is broadcasting, writing, watching, studying, reading about, SPORTS.

            I know for a fact that he missed his calling! He should have been a coach, or some profession associated with sports.

            But, thanks to him, I have become “sort of” a fan too. I say, “sort of” because I enjoy watching but cannot always discern the finer points of the game. I don’t know as much as my female friends who talk Sports. I don’t even TRY to measure up with Fred!

            My female, “girly-girl” mind loves the extra-environmental action..the stuff that makes this column “A Woman’s View from a Woman's Perspective”.

            We attended a Kansas State basketball game last week. I think its typical of most “Big School” venues out there!  Yes, I watched the game. But I didn’t “observe” the game. There’s a difference.

            No, I watched everything else. Women, don’t let your men go to big time ballgames alone. There’s plenty of entertainment, and WE are multi-taskers to the MAX! We gals can watch the game, and watch the other stuff, like hairdos and fashions.

            It’s fun.

            First, the players. Those big guys have muscles like I cannot believe! The muscles are covered with tattoos, and I wonder when I watch how much pain and discomfort each guy had to endure while having someone poke a needle over and over. I also wonder what those tats cost!

            I focus on the band. I noticed this time that the Wildcat Song “Wabash Cannonball” pep band was mainly brass instruments. I had never noticed that before. The sound was mainly all brass, and they swung those instruments back and forth in time with the music. I poked Fred to tell him to watch, but he acted like he didn’t hear me. He was watching basketball!

            The cheerleaders are a great watch also. Our credentials gave us seats down on the floor, one table behind the “big shots”. ( large newspapers, tv commentators, etc) The dance team was directly in front of us, and they never stopped working the crowd or doing cool dances during the TV break. I know Fred noticed them somewhat because they sometimes had their backs to us and they wiggled in time with the cheer. But, I also noticed him stretching to look around them more than I would think, unless he was faking!

            I noticed every dance step, the routines they did, and how they wear their hair. They are very attractive girls. They are the same height, same weight, and all have long hair. When I tried to explain this to Fred, he ignored me. I don’t think he heard me either. He was keyed in on the game!

            The Graduate Assistants are another attraction.  Dennan Morrow, the son of Wayne Morrow, is working on his Master’s degree. Dennan stands near the bench with the others and they keep stats and help the coaches. Sharp bunch of guys! He was in Hawaii with the team several weeks previous. Fred noticed him on T.V. and pointed him out.

            The student fans get warmed up even before the game begins. While the announcer is announcing the starting five of the opposing team, the students open newspapers in front of their faces, and make like they are reading them. I wondered why there were piles of older “Manhattan Mercury” newspapers in the lobby on the table! Then when the lights go down, the rhythmic, booming music begins, and the spotlight searches the floor, the introduction of the Wildcats begins. Fred and I agreed that this is an emotional, and groovy way to introduce the starting line up. It’s almost overload, but very impressive. The student body goes wild. I love it! But by now, Fred is waiting for the game to begin. He is something of a purist!

            I learned something at the last game I attended as Press. If I cheer for the home team, I am regarded by the Press officials (in charge) as dirty underwear, sin beyond repentance, and “shame, shame on me!” No, the privilege of sitting there with the press means working, not cheering!

            I had to sit on my hands a few times. I “almost” couldn’t help myself, but I made it. Imagine having an official of the school point at me and banish me to the Press room back in the catacombs. Everyone would see andFred would notice me then!!

            I’m still learning, but I’d say that it’s a well worth it experience to go to a college game. And women, there’s plenty for us there too, even basketball!

On Gardening Season Begins

            Do you know what time of year it is? Fred knows. He is already planning…or I should say, “plotting”!

            You see, Fred is a frustrated retailer who is really a farmer at heart. He loves to plant. And it is time to plan, or, er,” plot” your garden.

            About this time of year, we begin to receive seed catalogs in the mail…Lots of them. We get catalogs that tell all about flowers. And Fred then orders seeds for his wild flowers that always need a bit of a “restoration” in the Spring.

            We also gather catalogs that describe the most luscious vegetables that one could ever eat. Well, in fact, they are so beautiful; it would be a sacrilege to eat any of them.

Talk about luscious and succulent. Oh boy.

            Now, we do need rain or snow. The ground needs the moisture. And when those seeds and plants are in the ground, we will need to water them often. I learned that years ago when I moved here from the wet North.

            You see, we always had a little garden in the corner of our backyard. But, we never watered it. I remember my mother looking at her beans and saying, “I sure hope it rains this week. I don’t want to see this all dry up.” Sometimes she would water the garden with the hose, holding her thumb over the water so that it would spray. Then she would spray each area for about two minutes.

            It never entered her head to get the sprinkler going.

            I laugh now when I think of that mindset. But I thought that way for years after moving here. I couldn’t believe all the hose dragging, and sprinkler setting with the wind blowing, that Fred did.

            I am not the planter. I am the ONE who receives. When its time to harvest the garden goodies, they end up in buckets on my kitchen floor, or in my sink. Sweating Fred brings in green onions, broccoli, cabbage, peppers, and peas in the spring. Then later in the heat of the summer, he hauls in tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, green peppers, and finally, potatoes.

            This year, Fred had hip replacement surgery the first part of March. He stayed home recuperating, watching the March Madness basketball tournaments, and …You guessed it!  Perusing his garden magazines.

            I complain about the work involved with processing the vegetables, but I love eating them.

            However, this time I get to PLANT too!

            Now I don’t mind planting if someone tells me exactly what to do. I can count on Fred to do that. This year, because he won’t be able to get down on his knees until his hip heals, and he won’t be able to dig in the soil, guess WHO will? ME!

            This is how it works. Fred will sit in a folding chair by the garden. He will have string, sticks, and a hoe. I will string the “string’ in straight lines across the garden. Fred will guide me with his evil eye. Once the plumb line is set, Fred will tell me to drag my hoe handle down along the string line. Then I will get on my knees and plant little, itsy, bitsy onion sets all in a line. This will go on for several rows.

            Next, Fred will gather the big, rusty vegetable cans with the ends removed. (We use these every year) They are truly rusty and ugly. I will string the line, drag my hoe handle, and then make holes to deposit each broccoli plant. I will carefully pile up dirt around the base, and then place the can over each plant. Fred will tell me to get the hose and water each one.

            And so it will go with each row of veggies.

            I don’t mind doing it, just so he organizes it all. Actually, I will be rather proud of myself.

            And you can bet I won’t forget to water them!

On Wives and Lovers

Songs run through my head often. Any little remark that someone makes often reminds me of a song. I know others who experience this as well. Sometimes those songs are great “thoughts”. They are deep and meaningful. Other times, they can be totally ridiculous.

            For example, a song that I frequently roll around in my head is, “I’ve got a loverly bunch of coconuts. See them all a standing in a row!” And I ask you, what value does this tune and these words have to my little, pea brained psyche?

            Do any of you have this experience?

            Last week, another melody with the words resounded in my mind. “Wives and Lovers”. I could hear the voice of the singer in my head, but wasn’t sure who he was.  Dean Martin? Vic Damone?  So I looked it up.  Aha! Jack Jones sang it. And he nailed it. First Sinatra recorded it but Jack revamped the song in 1964.

            The song shocked me.  Have attitudes ever changed! It’s just amazing how the attitudes of marriage and women and relationships between the husband and wife have changed too!  If you want to listen to it, go to youtube.com and select the Jack Jones rendition of “Wives and Lovers”.

            Let me share the words and we will dance down “Memory Lane” together. And think about all the little implications.

            “Hey, little girl, Comb your hair, fix your make-up.

            Soon he will open the door.

            Don’t think because there’s a ring on your finger,

            You needn’t try any more.”

            “For wives should always be lovers, too.

            Run to his arms the moment he comes

                home to you.

            I’m warning you”.

            “Day after day, there are girls at the office,

            And men will always be men.

            Don’t send him off with your hair still in curlers,

            You may not see him again”.

            “For wives should always be lovers, too. Run to his arms the moment he comes

               home to you,

 He’s almost here”.

           

            “Hey little girl better wear something pretty;

            Something you’d wear to go to the

                city

            And dim all the lights, pour the wine, start the music.

            Time to get ready for love”..

            . I needn’t tell you that this trip down memory lane was like a blast of icy sleet on my senses. What happened? This age treats our men like buffoons, and the television comedies continually make fun of the male. And women?  They have to wear so darn many pairs of pants, they won’t even “understand” this song. The song tells it like it is…or like it was!

What an era! “Keep the romance in the relationship” and “Fix up for your mate” is substantially sound advice. Certainly. Jane Fonda would not appreciate hearing what I am saying, but I ask you, “What have we gained the past 50 years, anyway?”

This is what we have lost…Deterioration of marriages, breakdown of the family, lack of respect for one another.

In reading some of the comments on this “you tube” site, I liked this one. It says,

            “I don't see anything wrong with wanting to look sexy when your man comes home! I remember those days and it was a lot sexier than it is now! Women were genuine and men loved looking at them and taking good care of them. It was a two way street. They loved us and we loved them. Mutual respect too. Sorry for all of those who never knew how to be a lady.”

            A husband made this remark, “No man wants to cheat, we want to LOVE the one we're with.. for Real... All Husbands LOVE their Wives, that's why YOU were CHOSEN and all those other women LOST THE GAME... YOU WON.. Now Reap the Reward of being our WIFE...”

            Many wish those days in the 60’s could return.

            How attitudes and perspectives have changed!

On Exercise, Part 1

            Mathilda and I are, shall we say, “Senior citizens”. We are suddenly experiencing a new era in life; the time that is called “The Golden Years”. It sneaked up on us!

            We have gained “a little” weight over the past several years. It seems that the fat cells don’t go where they used to go! We have noticed that something that resembles an inner tube has latched itself firmly under the skin of our waists! We don’t know where it came from, or why it is here, but it was not invited, I assure you!

            What are we doing about it? Glad you asked.

            We hope exercise will help.  I ride my bike. Sometimes.

            Mathilda takes walks when she feels like it.

            This past summer we made a quality decision to swim. We bought our season tickets at the city pool, searched everywhere for swim suits that fit (sort of), bought swim caps (so we wouldn’t destroy our beauty shop hair color) and donned goggles.

            “Tilly” and I entered the local city pool with our heads held high, our thighs hidden with  towels wrapped around our middles.  Once the little kids got their fill of staring, they never paid much attention to us again. However, one boy did swim up to me with a shocked look on his face, his eyes as big as saucers, and I asked him if I looked like a “Martian”. He said no and paddled away! Bless him! I felt like we were making progress already, and we had only just slid into the water.

            We swam for 45 minutes, three or four days a week, but the pool soon closed.

Finally, we felt we’d found an exercise we LIKED! We must not give up! The inner tubes around our waists were hanging on for dear life.  Determinedly, we decided to take a BOLD step and enroll at “Club1 Fitness”.

            Oh boy! No more excuses for us!

            Husband Fred was impressed with our effort. He rides his bike and lifts weights so was not interested in swimming. He doesn’t have a tire either!

            The first morning we drove to the fitness center about 22 miles from our fair village, we came prepared. We didn’t know what we “might” need!  Let’s see, did we remember everything? Swimsuit, check. Goggles and hat, check. Towel, check. Curling iron, check. Body lotion, check. Comb. Brush. Make-up. Pool shoes. Deodorant. Purse. Blow Dryer. (didn’t need that one, I later discovered!)

            It was Tilly’s turn to drive, so I dragged my heavy beach bag of “necessities” to her car! We were determined and thrilled with ourselves! We had it all!

            Off we went, talking a mile a minute. We arrived, signed up, and changed into our suits. We didn’t look in the full length mirror. It didn’t matter!

We opened the door to the pool, swim suit skirts flapping, tight swim caps squeezed on  heads that looked like little peas on a shoulder, and goggles on the face!

So what if we looked like 70 year old ladies. (Sorry Mathilda, you are not quite there yet!)

            We are 70 year old ladies!

            At this point we are swimming and loving it. It’s good for our lungs. It exercises and slims down our legs. It helps back problems. It burns calories. We are having a ball.

            But the tires around our middle just stubbornly hang on! Oh well, if we get into trouble in the water, we will float!

            Whatever it takes!! We are NOT giving up!

On Winter Blahs

Winter Blahs

              Are any of you ready for Spring?!  I can hardly wait! Winter has been around too long!

              It’s STILL too cold to work outside in the yard. Soon, I will be complaining about all the yard work!  But right now, warm Spring yard-outside activity sounds great! I am so ready.

            How do we keep going in the meantime? Fred tells me to “stay the course”.  Stand. Don’t waiver. Go through the rudiments of every day. Plow on!

            Fred doesn’t let the weather or the season get to him. He is so, so, oh, what is the word?  DISCIPLINED! 

            Fred exercises inside when he can’t go out. He faithfully goes to his corner of the house and lifts weights and rides the stationary bicycle. And, when its cold and windy, he dons his yard clothes and goes outside anyway. Yesterday he raked out the flower garden. Gee, Fred. 

            Well, I need more motivation than that.  Puleeeze. Let’s get serious! I don’t want to work in the yard. Not now. It’s still cold. Those broken branches will have to wait until its warmer! I need something more to brighten up the doldrums. So, what do I suggest we do?

            There’s only a little over a week left for March Madness.  Final Four will be played next week. We can look forward to watching and for me, eating too much!!

            Go to the library. Most of our libraries throughout the country are hi tech and provide every visual and auditory need possible.  The library is a respite from the noise and clamor of our lives. I visited our library this week.  I began to search for just the “right” book. I walked back and forth in the stacks. Talk about “water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.” I couldn’t decide!  It is chock full of books, cds,  magazines, movies (you name it!) to check out.

            Host a little party. Invite friends in for a covered dish and assign food for each to bring. g. Or, better yet, host a cook-out. I will loan Fred to you. He will put on his heavy clothes and man the grill.

            Start spring cleaning. Clean out the toy boxes. Throw away old shirts and socks that make good rags. Attack the kitchen, that varmint of disarray and hidden mischief! Store the stuff that you don’t want in boxes for your yard sale in the spring. Or, better yet, take your castoffs  to one of the budget shops.

            Attend exercise classes. Go to a "spin" class...Do you know what that is? Oh you do! You say you can't do that? Me either.

            Invade the closets. Check out the Spring clothes situation to see what doesn’t fit this year, girls! Or maybe its too depressing to go there right now…..

            Fred says its almost time to roto-till the garden, and plant the “taters”. He added (with excitement in his voice) that its time to go get the nightcrawlers because fishing season is close. What does one do with a guy like that!  See what I mean?

             I think I will write another article!! lol
          

On The Perils of Traveling with Myself

            The story you are about to hear is factual. The names have been changed to protect the innocent~ I hope you can relate to this true tale.

            I, Annie, just returned from a trip out west. Fred stayed home and tended the fire. It was a good time for Annie.

            When I first left Kansas, I was totally organized. The items in the suitcase were all packed in little plastic bags; the shoes were in the side pockets; my book and boarding passes were in my purse, and the keys to the car were in my make up bag!

            It was the trip home that was THE trip to never forget.

            It was on the first flight back that I first missed them.  Where were my car keys? I searched every compartment in my purse. The guy next to me wondered what I was doing. I kept picking up my purse and raking through it. No keys.

            The man in the next seat just stared straight ahead. But I could see his “wheels” turning! He was thinking, “What kind of nut am I sitting next to?”

            I remembered I had put some of my make up bags in the suitcase some time during the travels. But my luggage was checked, so I would have to wait to search the suitcase.

            I also had packed my light coat in my “checked” suitcase. Mistake number two.

            We landed in Denver. The “cold weather” shock was undeniable.

            I hurried to the other end of the terminal to connect with the flight from Denver to Hays.

            The gate was located at the end of B terminal, downstairs. That area was freezing cold. The passengers arriving from their smaller planes had to de-plane outside. There was a constant cold draft coming in the doors. I had no coat, and no way to get warm.

            Passengers waited in the padded chairs, wrapped in their winter coats. I hid next to the Starbuck’s booth just around the corner, furtively watching the gate to see when I could escape to the plane.

            When we landed at Hays, it was 10:15 p.m. We were the last flight. There was one employee at the airport. Most of the passengers headed for their cars. The rest of us waited for our checked bags. I was never so glad to see a suitcase! I dragged it to the lounge and opened it to search for the dang keys.

            I was greeted with bags full of exploded make-up. What a mess. I searched through those bags carefully, but found NO keys. However, I retrieved my coat from the bag!

            Now I was faced with a choice.

            Would I stay at the dark, deserted airport and continue to search for the keys, or would I catch a cab with the three remaining passengers outside. Even the crew had left!

            I made the only decision I could. I would take the cab and stay overnight in a hotel in Hays.

            The van driver told the three of us that the cost would be $15 EACH to take us to the Hotel. He asked if we were all prepared to pay that. NOOOOO!!

             Upon arriving at the hotel, I forked over the $15 and at that point felt like someone being interrogated must feel after sitting on a wooden chair under a harsh light bulb with water dripping on his nose all night.

            The clerk had a room but said there were no floor level rooms left. Without checking the room number, I grabbed the room keys and pulled the 45 pounds of suitcase up the OUTSIDE metal stairs to the next level. I searched for my room. I then looked at my key. She had indeed given me a floor level room. So I bumped de bump bumped the suitcase down the metal stairs again. And it was freezing cold! I didn’t care any more. I would have confessed to ANYTHING!

Of course, my room was on the very end, and I couldn’t open the door.  It was late, freezing cold, and my nose was running. Another choice again. It was either sit down in the cold and cry or pull the luggage, purse, and bag of books and junk all the way back to the main desk to ask for help.

“Oh sometimes those keys don’t work the first time. I’ll swipe again”! she responded.

            Did I finally get inside? Yes.  But here’s the BEST news. I found the car keys!

On Thinking You are a "Techie", Poor Thing.

Do you remember the song, “The Streak”?  Ray Stevens has some funny videos on You tube that play variations of the song, and as the streaker zooms by, the husband yells to his wife. “Don’t look, Ethel!” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=stvrWdFijZc

That’s about how I feel right now. “Don’t look Annie!”

 It all started last night when I ignorantly decided to set up a new “Blog” for Fred on the internet. I have a blog, and it seems to be doing well. “Nothing to it”, I bragged!

 (In case you are not familiar with the term, it’s like a website, only it usually is based on a particular subject. Fred is a sports column writer so he would want a “sports” theme.)

             “Pride comes before the fall”.

 I said I could fix him up.  Don’t ever assume you know anything when it comes to computers! Don’t think just because you did it before, that it will turn out the same again!

 “Don’t, don’t, don’t look, Ethel!”

            Don’t think your plan is foolproof. The monster inside the little box is plotting against you and it is smarter than you!

            Don’t innovate. The little creature already is ten steps ahead.

But alas, I thought I knew better!

            So I set up a blog with a colorful photograph. In order to give him a personal page…One that he could adapt, and add columns as he chose, I had to re-invent a title, a password, and a description of Fred.  I changed all of Fred’s stats with Google. It’s a long story why I did that. You do not want to know!

            I worked and fretted until 11p.m. and would have remained glued to my office chair longer if I had been having any success. Nothing worked. And my stomach hurt. I felt crabby. I was depressed! I told Fred I was done. He was trying to help. He felt frustrated too. No more.

            All of this happened to me because of a stupid, lifeless, impersonal box on the floor under the desk!  What on earth was the matter with me giving all that time to IT?!

            We let it go. Went to bed.

            So, the next morning arrived fresh and new.  And what do you think we did? We directed our attention to THE Blog effort all over again. By then we were in too deep to quit. I had given Fred a new identity, which he didn’t want… A new e mail, which he didn’t want…and finally a new password, which he didn’t want.

            Oh Annie was in trouble. When my conscience warned, “Don’t look, Ethel!” I should have just minded my own business!!

            I knew I needed help. Fred would never adjust to all these changes! I found a technical assistant page on line. The agency specializes in blogs and wanted $49. I clicked out and said to myself, “Forget them!”

            I certainly didn’t blame them for charging for their expertise. But I still thought I could fix the problem. “Oh foolish me!”

            I fiddled around again. By then, Fred and I were so frustrated that Fred was actually vacuuming the carpets and dust mopping the kitchen floor just to get rid of the angst. I tromped around the house, gathering bedding for the washer, and wiping the counters off feverishly.

            Then an e-mail arrived. It was that fix-it tech group contacting me. “Please consider us!” The site offered a special price if I would come back and allow them to solve the problem. $25.00! O.K. I bit the bullet.

            After spending about an hour or more on line with the tech, we texted back and forth until he had solved the problems. Since I had already changed all of Fred’s password, blog name, and e-mail, I was totally grateful to have normalcy again. .The Tech got rid of those details and now we had a blank slate. Relief!

            Oh good. A blank Blog.

            Let’s see how long it takes me to make a mess of this!

            I “say” I won’t ever do this again, but I know that I will!

            But as I fiddle around on projects where I don’t really know what I am doing, I have learned some tips.

            First. Have a good anti-virus program like AVG. It warns me often of some site or download that has “little creatures” in it that will hurt the computer.

            Second, when the machine tells you of an update, be verrrrry careful. We almost never let the “updates” in our door any more. We have picked up stray cats, dogs, mice, and tons of unrecognizable programs that give our computer the flu.

            Basic. Stay basic.

            But if you must venture out into that unknown territory, be sure you have at least  $25 in your hand before you try anything.

            And last? If you still have problems, open the window, pick up the machine, and throw it out the window…

 Annieswomensview.blogspot.com