Buttons and bangles

Posted on February 3, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

Maybe I’m a wee bit grumpy lately.  I’m worn out and impatient.  And you’re asking how that’s changed since childbirth.  Probably not much.

I’m doing all sorts of novel things lately – learning about Quick Parts, RibbonXML, customXMLparts – things that have no interest to 90% of the world’s population, or even to Word’s population.  They just want to push a button.  That’s where I come in, making all the little buttons users can’t live without.  The Easy buttons, as it were.

I’m finding answers anywhere I can – technology forums, Google, emailing strangers.  I’m reading until my eyes are crossed.  I will never understand developers who are not ardent users.  They just don’t get common sense.  One program we are rolling out requires the user to press multiple buttons starting on the right and moving left, instead of left to right.  Another program requires the user to press one icon on one ribbon tab, and another on a different ribbon tab even though both buttons must be pressed to complete the task. 

Then comes along the “perfect stranger.”  He answers my distressed email, not only with sage advice, but with an attached file containing the code I need.  If you have a Word ribbon question ever, please visit The Anchorage.  Good man, good deal, and a Navy vet!

Now I’m onto Bill Gates.  Word’s watermark feature, a feature which embeds a phase like “HELP I’M IN WORD HELL” (I’d like to use a gentler word, but none comes to mind) across a document, does not work on every page of the document if, for example, there is a printable letterhead on the first page.  I am trying to make this post user-friendly, but it’s not easy when Microsoft is involved.  Why would it NOT work on every page of the document by design?  Heck if I know.  Because if I apply something to the whole document, I think I’d kind of like it to appear on every page.  But then again, maybe that’s how Bill Gates makes his money  — charging my the keystroke to accomplish a task. 

But maybe it’s me.  Maybe I don’t get it.  I post a question on the Word 2010 Forum.  Here people who are more experienced and intelligent can answer my question.  This is the response I get back.  Copy and paste the header contents into the “other” header, and the watermark will be copied along with the rest of the header content.  Reminds me back in the days of Lotus 1-2-3.  The manual for DOS version 1.0 (yes, I said 1.0) had instructed the users to print the sheets and tape them together with Scotch tape! 

No, duh.  And my response to Mr. Intelligent:  It’s even easier than that.  Simply insert the cursor on a page using the other header and insert the watermark again.

And his answer:  Of course, but let’s assume that you don’t remember which watermark was initially inserted; in such a case, it will be easier to copy an existing one.

And my final answer:  So if I can’t remember what I just did 3 seconds ago, I shouldn’t be using a computer.

My guess is – I won’t be getting a birthday greeting from this forum next year.

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Posted in humor, technology | Tagged

Not much changes over the generations

Posted on February 2, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

I raced home yesterday with a twinge of daylight still on the horizon.  I wanted to catch the Bug, who is slightly uncoordinated and not very athletic, in his first one-on-one karate lesson.  That was our Christmas present to him.  He’d been excited for days.

I’d presented Hot Wheelz with a flying lesson for his nineteenth birthday.  He was equally excited.  As a young Navy man, he had visions of joining the Naval Air division.  While flying way up in the air, however, he remembered he was afraid of heights. 

Horse stance

Horse stance

The Bug learned new moves last night – horse stance, a front stance, and maybe a few where he toppled over slightly.  However, the fear of falling did not thwart his enthusiasm. 

The Worm and the Mouse vied for my attention.  “Grandma, are you going to keep taking pictures.”  She just doesn’t get it yet.  I have to take multiple pictures, in hopes one will actually turn out.

Verdict: The Bug had better results with his new adventure than Hot Wheelz had.  He sat engaged on the couch painstakingly folding his belt just as he had been instructed.

After class, we headed to Denny’s.  Dining with three grandchildren in a restaurant is not much easier than days remembered from long ago.  “Grandma, can we order breakfast for dinner?”

“Why not,” I said.

“Goody,” shouted the Worm.  “I want a side of bacon.”

The Mouse had most of his pancake on the floor, because two-years do not like to be spoon fed.  The Bug was saddened to find out that the three-second-rule does not apply at Denny’s.

I walked out of Denny’s with a helping of small tub of maple syrup down the front of my skirt.  Not much different than the time I ended up years ago with Magic Rock solution down the front of my favorite pink dress.  If I’d known the spill was inevitable, I would have spilled the syrup first and stuck the Mouse to the seat to keep him still.

The Worm had chocolate all over her face.  She always ends up that way, but what was weird last night, she hadn’t ordered any chocolate. 

On the way home, we sang a song from my parents’ past, my past, my children’s past – John Jacob Jingleheimer Smith.  The Worm and I even made it through a round without plugging our ears to get it mixed up.  She was pretty proud of herself.

All in all it was like old days.  Been there, done that, got the stained t-shirt.

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Posted in grandchildren, leisure, memories | Tagged

Surviving life’s little pitfalls

Posted on February 1, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

Coco’s move to her own apartment didn’t exactly work out like she’d hoped.  Come to find out her downstairs neighbor, Pixie and her dog, Cupcake, aren’t really much of a Pixie or a Cupcake.  So Coco is on the move again.  This time she’s renting a smaller place, which means “open the flood gates attic and the garage.” 

I was ready to go help with my Pilot SUV.  I opened attempted to open the rear gate of the car to take measurements.  She had wanted to know if the twin bed I was once again inheriting from the apartment’s spare bedroom would fit in my car.  But the gate would not budge.  I tugged and tugged.  However, I’ve been on the force it end before and caused even more problems, like the time I’d tried to pry open the panel on the washing machine.  So I was afraid to give it my all.  Still I popped remotes, pulled, pushed, climbed inside and kicked.  Nothing. 

“I can’t open the back,” I relayed to Couponman.

“The latch must be broken,” he said, after a few attempts.  “I’ll take it in for service tomorrow.”

“So did they fix it?” I asked the next day.

“It wasn’t broken,” he said.  “The grandkids spilled something sticky back there.”  Yeah, like Crazy glue, I thought.  “The serviceman cleaned it out.” 

“What did the dealership charge?” I asked.

“One hundred and ten dollars,” he said.

“A hundred and ten dollars!” I exclaimed.  Let’s see.  Let’s add that to the Wii-controller-impaled flat screen TV…  Grandkids are expensive, but worth it.   :-)

“Well, I got them to reduce it to half,” he said.  Couponman to the rescue again.  I’m thinking maybe being married to Serviceman is more profitable than Couponman.

He drove over to my office afterwards.  “They washed the car,” he said. 

“For free?”

“No,” he said, “for fifty five dollars.”

Hey, but the twin bed fit.  And we were able to cheer Coco up with a hot chicken pot pie, sprinkled with a mother’s love.

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Posted in attitude | Tagged , , ,

I can do that

Posted on January 30, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

“Can you come over tonight?” asked my daughter, the GAP.  “The Worm says she won’t make it unless you come over.  She’s collapsed, her body half over the arm of the couch and half on the floor.”

“Sure I can do that.”  Gee, I wonder where she gets her dramatics. 

Grandmas are magical kinds of people who can make any day better.  She met me at the door.  The desolate look had turned into a wide grin.

“Want to play a game?” I asked.

“Sure,” echoed two young voices.  The silent one, the little Mouse, came up and tapped me on the leg.  I picked him up.  He’s nearly two and has the vocabulary of an amoeba.  He’s scheduled in the near future for speech therapy, but in the meantime, his Mom puts up with body language and gestures. 

“While the kids are at school our whole day consists of…”  She pats her thigh, then thrusts the heel of her palm against her lips and tilts her head back, “’You want something to drink?’ I ask him.  Then he nods yes, so I ask, ‘Where’s your sippy cup?’”  She shrugs her shoulders to imitate his behavior.  “’Well, look for it,’ I tell him.  Then he glances around the room without moving, just like a man, and lifts his empty arms to the sky.  This is my whole morning.”  I’m in hysterics. 

“You don’t think anything’s wrong with him, do you?” I asked for reassurance.

“Nah,” she answers back.  “The other day he walked over to me while I was working at the computer and took the remote.  He pushed the button to change the Netflix program, then used the up button and scrolled to the program he wanted to watch, and then pressed Select.  He brought the remote back to me, went over to the couch, laced his fingers in back of his head and leaned back to enjoy his movie.  I think he’s okay.”  If we judge “okay” by being remote savvy, I’m in trouble.

I brought over a new Dr. Seuss game called “I Can Do That.”  You draw 3 cards, and do the suggested activities all together.  The Bug was disappointed he failed on his assignment, “Take giant steps with the fish between your legs to the bathtub.”  Harder than walking and chewing gum.  Incidentally, the game supplies the fish.  The Worm had to walk like a penguin to the refrigerator with the fish on her head.  While the GAP tiptoed with the fish under her chin around a chair, a stranger opened the front door and peered in.  “Sorry, wrong house,” he exclaimed.  I’d probably say that, too, if I walked in on someone carrying a fish under her chin.  I had to hop on one leg to the kitchen sink with a fish under my left armpit.  Between that and walking like a crab with the fish between my knees to the bedroom, I thought the game should be called “I Might Die Doing That.”

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Posted in grandchildren, leisure | Tagged

I know somebody who knows somebody

Posted on January 28, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

A long time friend, so long that her name used to be Dee before moving uptown and changing it to the more sophisticated sounding Diana, and I spent some time together over the weekend.  We’d missed our get-together for her birthday a few months ago.  We have a lot in common.  Her first four children and mine are within months of one another.  We both love to laugh.  We can eat almost anyone under the table, especially in ice cream.  So it should surprise no one that our first stop was Cold Stone Ice Creamery.  I bought hers and she bought mine.

Then we were off to see The Artist.  She bought my ticket; I bought hers.  It didn’t matter much.  We both qualified for the cheap seats. 

Uggie, the little dog, won our hearts over quickly.  “It’s a ….,” I leaned over and said quietly.

“Some kind of terrier, I think” Dee whispered.

“Two names, like a man’s name,” I whispered back.  Getting old and losing words is no fun.  Dee admitted she forgot one of grandkids names when she was pointing them out in a picture.  “But I remembered her birthday.”  I think that counts for something.  I forget my kids’ names all the time, so they answer to most anything.

Ten minutes went by.  “Russell,” I leaned over again and said, “is one of the names I think.  Dee smiled.

Then another ten minutes went by.  “Jack Russell,” I said.  Now I could finally get into the movie.  Well, not quite.  “The girl reminds me of…” I started again.  “A young Mary Tyler Moore.”  I was proud of myself.  I got it out in one sentence without using up all my phone-a-friends.

“She does.”

“The movie is about loyalty, don’t you think?” I asked.

“And pride,” Dee answered.

“That was a good choice for a movie,” we announced as the credits ran. 

“Only we had to stay awake.”  The movie is silent, you know.

“Yeah,” I admitted.  “But your choice on the ice cream sundae was better than mine.”

“Let’s go get another one,” Dee suggested.

“We could do that, but we’d better not.”  Okay, we were over it. 

“Do you know the Olsons?”

“No I don’t think so,” I said.

“Well, she directs a children’s choir,” Dee went on, “and they’ve been asked to perform for the Academy Awards during the In Memoriam segment.”

“Wow,” I exclaimed.

“Now I can say I know someone who’s performed at the Oscars.”  Dee looked at me.  “And you can say you know somebody who knows somebody.”

Life  and its enjoyments are all about who you know.  Especially making time for them.

P.S.S.  I was instructed to include that we for sure did NOT stop for seconds on ice cream.  But I have to admit, we were tempted.

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Posted in entertainment, friends | Tagged ,

Will you still love me?

Posted on January 27, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

The Beatles once asked, Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty fourmusical notes so it’s not so absurd that I now ask the same question.

And the answer is a resounding YES!  From a luncheon with friends, to a luncheon with co-workers, to a home-cooked Persian meal with more friends, including a delicious red velvet birthday cake, Couponman’s famous French toast breakfast, to an ice sundae between friends, to a gourmet fish dinner with my brother, and there’s still flan awaiting me…  and it’s still rolling in.  Or rather I’m rolling in. 

Birthday bouquetThen there’s the boatload of cards (well, at least five if you count the one I got from my insurance company), greetings from the Great Wall of Facebook, and the phone messages left on my dead cell phone.  Heck, even Bill Gates, or maybe his friends six times removed, left email birthday greetings for me.  Okay, so maybe they were from the Microsoft Excel Forum and dbForums.  Who knew Bill Gates was so personal.  Even a beautiful flower bouquet (not from Bill Gates).

You’d think Dawn, our yoga instructor, would have gone easy on me this week considering I’d turned another year older, but she didn’t.  “Talk you butt into your thigh…” What does that mean, I thought. 

“Tuck your butt…” she repeated.  Darn, there goes the hearing…  However, talking my butt into something might be easier than tucking it in to anything.

I had stopped by to see the grandkids on the way home.  As I walked into the living room, the six-year-old Worm flew into my arms.  “Happy Birthday, Grandma.”  The two-year-old Mouse ran in behind her, squealing, arms raised.  He had wanted to reach me first, but his short legs prevented that.  I picked him up and tossed him playfully in the air.  The eight-year-old Bug sat at the computer without moving.  “Aren’t you going to come and give me a hug?” I asked.  “It’s my birthday.”

He strolled over to me and put an arm around my waist.  “Grandma,” he said, “I’m just saving the best for last.”  Wow, he really knows how to work me.

“Wanna go see One for the Money,” asked the GAP, “for your birthday.”  She knew I’d read all the Janet Evanovich novels.  Not classy, I know.  Even a little slutty, but they made me laugh.  Still after nineteen books, you’d think even a woman could make a decision between the same two gorgeouos guys.

The movie was miscast.  Stephanie Plum wasn’t Jersey enough, Ranger was too young and not mysterious enough, but Joe Morelli was mighty fine.  And the company of my firstborn even better.

To all my friends and family, love you back!

P.S.  I had such a good day, I didn’t even need to wear my favorite underpants.  But then again maybe I had a good day, because I was wearing them.

P.S.S.  I’d thank each of you on Facebook wall for your birthday wishes, if I only knew how…  :-(   Maybe someday when my eight-year-old grandson takes the time to teach me.

P.S.S.S.  If anyone knows how to contact my insurance company, please tell them I’d rather have the price of postage taken off my premium than a birthday card.

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Posted in entertainment, humor | Tagged ,

I have been a very bad girl

Posted on January 25, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

I ate ice cream for breakfast, donut(s) at work on Monday, chips for lunch (and dinner), and it got worse.  You are probably thinking I’m eating crazy because of all the long hours I am putting in at work.  Actually, my birthday is coming up and I’m entitled.  However, I may be in trouble soon.  I may soon only be able to wear stretchy clothes, and I don’t know that stretchy qualifies as business casual. 

Today my friends stuffed me with a lunch out.  It was a treat to see daylight.  I’d been inside all day conducting a full day’s worth of training.

“How old are you tomorrow?” one of them asked.

“Sixty four,” I replied.  That sounded old.  “Doesn’t that sound old?” I asked.  When I’d told my six-year-old granddaughter, she’d said, “Wow, Grandma, that’s a really big number.”

“Not really much older than sixty-three sounded,” Janice said.  We laughed.  I tried to name a few people older than I am.  I couldn’t.  I found out even the guy who looks really old is younger than me. 

At the end of the meal I was presented with chocolate brownie.  “Make a wish,” instructed the waitress, “and blow out the candle.”

“I wish this wasn’t chocolate,” I said, with a little smile, putting out the small fire.

“Oh, you don’t like chocolate?”  I nodded.  “How about some bread pudding?” 

Now were talking.  That sounded a lot lighter… not.  What’s not to like — carbs in butter fat.  It’ll sit well with the salty corn chips I have back at the office.

“How much do I owe you?” I asked my friends politely. 

“Nothing.  It’s your birthday,” my friends said in unison.

“In that case, it’s my birthday next week, too.”

P.S.  Janice gave me a beautiful scarf, and instructed me to use a “blindfold on execution day.”  She knows how hard I’ve been working on the firm software rollout.  She also knows I am on the front line and will be blamed if things don’t go well.  As I walked in to resume training, I pulled the new scarf tight around my head like a blindfold.  Now I’m prepared.  Thanks, ladies.

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Posted in friends, humor | Tagged

Ay ay ay

Posted on January 24, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

The crack of dawn slapped me on the side of the head to get me going.  Then I smacked my barely-alive monitor on its side to keep it from dying.  I haven’t been posting very much, because I haven’t been doing much of anything except working.  I think like 65 hours overtime this week.  Okay, that may be a stretch, but probably only by 2 hours. 

I’m in charge of the iManage, iCreate, iScrub, iHyperstyles, and iDocid software rollout here at work to 250 users in seven offices.  For us gringos, I call it the ay ay ay ay ay  rollout.  I’m dedicated because I have a goal.  I’m saving the OT for a family vacation to Costa Rica.  Therefore the Spanish flavor to the project.  At this rate, I’ll be able to upgrade to Madrid (if I survive).

Suppose I ought to get a passport…

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Posted in technology | Tagged

Strike out

Posted on January 21, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

This morning after working a long week including over thirty hours overtime, I sat in front of the computer again.  I needed a break, so I Googled the local reduced-price movie house and glanced at the show times.  The Ides of March was playing at 10.  It was 9:40 a.m.  I was hoping to get a glimpse of Ryan Gosling’s abs again like I had in Crazy Stupid Love.  Photoshopped or not, it was worth the peek.  “Quick,” I said to Couponman, who’s always up for a bargain.  “Let’s make the 10 a.m. movie.  It’s only playing one time today.” 

“I need to shower,” he said.

“Don’t worry,” I said.  “I’m just going to throw a coat over my pajamas.”  I love winter.  Coats hide a myriad of things.  “We’ll be in the dark.  No one will notice.  Who’s going to be at the movies at that time of the day anyway?” 

Couponman’s a good sport.  Isn’t that what marriage is all about?  We both threw on hoodies under our coats.  Another good cover-up.  I’m a “spur of the moment” kind of gal.  “The only one besides you who’s always available for my short notice adventures,” I said to Couponman, “is Hot Wheelz.”

“Yeah,” he answered.  “But with an attitude.”  We laughed. 

We raced to the ticket window, minutes after the starting time, in time for the previews.  “Two for Ides of March,” Couponman announced.  Considering it was raining, we didn’t look noticeably grungy.

“That show doesn’t begin until ten o’clock tonight,” said the ticket taker. 

Couponman flashed a scowl at me.  His silver five o’clock-and-then-some shadow glared in my eyes.  “Well, let’s make the most it,” he said.  “Let’s stop at Chick Filet and get a free sandwich.”

“How’s it’s free?” I asked.

“They have a rainy day promotion.  When it rains, the sandwich is free.”  At the order counter, we were told the special had just ended in December. 

“Funny,” I said, “they stop the rainy day special during the rainy season.”

“Well, we’re 0 for 2,” he said.

Considering I didn’t get to see a shirted or shirtless Ryan Gosling, I say that’s 0 for 3.

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Posted in leisure, marriage | Tagged

The bouncer

Posted on January 20, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

The other night I was invited to play laser tag.  Well, that’s a stretch.  I got invited to babysit the kids too young to enjoy laser tag.  I thought back on the last time, during the Christmas holiday when all the family was here.  We had played laser tag then, too.  I’d scored higher than I expected, not because of my laser prowess, but because I’d taken advantage of the young and infirmed.  Well, young anyway.  Almost all my points were from shooting the six-year-old Worm.  Not to mention, in the back.  I hadn’t set out to destroy her; I was simply shooting at anyone who couldn’t run faster than me.  The GAP, her mom, gasped and did the wavy finger thing at me when I’d shown her my score card. 

Bouncy ballNeedless to say, the other night, I was relegated to the outside looking in.  A familiar and comfortable place for me anyway.  A bouncy ball was left for the young ones’ entertainment, but the Mouse’s legs too short.  “Ya Ya,” he’d yelled.  I picked him up by the back of his britches, held onto his hands over the rubber handle and away he bounced.  “Ya Ya,” he’d beckon, every time I tried to attend to something else.

Then we played air hockey – a five-year-old, a three-year-old, the nearly two-year-old beckoning one, and me, the one whose age dramatically surpasses the sum total of all the other players.  The five-year-old was a little too cocky when the yellow puck rolled into the goal protected by the two and three year olds, guided by an aging, but still competitive grandma.  I held the Mouse up table-height as he swatted the disk.  But my side of the table was no competition for the five-year-old.  Every time he scored, he’d yell, throw his arms up, and give a kind of smug look.  I couldn’t let it go on.  I sat the Mouse down and batted the puck in the opposing goal at lightening speed.  The five-year-old watched it go by in a daze.  No one would have to know except Nina, my fellow spectator.  But she thought he deserved it, too.

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Posted in entertainment, grandchildren | Tagged