a “mouse” and an “old dog”…no match

I just had a good laugh. No, a great laugh! At my own expense.


Logitech-mouse (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Some time ago my hubby bought me a “mouse.” No, not the one from which I run screaming bloody murder. Rather the nice, cute one that sits alongside my laptop and which I use to navigate the internet. My little, red buddy. Brand name…”Logitech.”

Trying to load pictures I’d taken from my Canon Power Shot SD780IS Digital Elph, also fire-engine red, I wasn’t having much luck. As is usually the case, after several tries I called for the cavalry in the form of, you guessed it, my husband.

The saint that he is, hubby tried again and again to download the photos. Meanwhile, I did what I do in such circumstances. I puttered around the house doing this, that, and the other. I read some. I watched a little TV, my head nodding now and again.

After what felt like hours, my husband suggested that I might need to delete some photos from my camera. As soon as he said that, I remembered I’d had the same problem before. And he was right! After I’d deleted umpteen photos, the download mechanism worked.

So delete pictures I did. I deleted…and deleted…and deleted. I finally stopped at a photograph of my grandkitty taken in the fall of…2011. “OMG!” I thought. I knew there was at least another year’s worth of pictures left to delete.

Why didn’t I delete the pictures from my camera after downloading them onto my laptop? Well, it never occurred to me. The simplest answer is that I keep things…unless I’m forced to get rid of them.

After viewing some information on my Canonmy husband explained that I had another 2,000+ pictures to delete. Oye vay!

To tell you the truth, I can’t even understand all the lingo my camera communicates. I scroll through the information time and again. And yet it still remains total gobbledygook! Completely incomprehensible to me. I need my two interpreters to help me out…my husband and my daughter. One day soon…I’ll read the manual that came with the confounded gadget.

The piece-de-resistance came while I once again attempted to download the photos to my laptop.

It’s necessary to plug the required wire into both the camera and the computer. Thinking the two empty holes in the side of the laptop weren’t working, I decided to try the third one in which some little thing was already plugged. So I removed the thingamabob and inserted the wire. No luck. Downloading the photos still didn’t happen.

“The heck with this!” I thought. I’ll just start a new post instead of continuing the one for which I was trying to insert a slideshow of pictures I’d recently taken.

Lo and behold…my mouse, my little buddy…stopped working. “Gunfunnit…what now?!?” I exclaimed. Of course my husband came running. I showed him my dead mouse explaining that I probably needed a new battery.

Puzzled but not defeated, my husband looked at the mouse…and with a twinkle in his eye asked “Where’s the thing that was in this hole on the side of the laptop? That’s why the mouse isn’t working.”

Jumping up and embracing him in a bear hug, I laughed with my husband until we nearly toppled over.

I am one dumb-bunny when it comes to technology, gadgetry, and gizmos! It’s true what they say…

…you can’t teach an old dog new tricks…i’m living proof!!!…

…or a cat!…


daily post challenge: #188…can a camera truly catch a moment in time

In recent months I’ve gone crazy taking pictures. You might say I’ve run amok. That’s what my husband would say. I surely wouldn’t call myself a photographer. That sounds far too lofty for me. I dabble, just as I dabble in writing. Especially since I know very little beyond “point and shoot.”

My shiny, red, Canon Power Shot SD780IS Digital ELPH, is one bad boy when it comes to capturing “life in the moment.” It suits my purposes just fine. And whenever I look at the photos I’ve taken…I’m reliving that “moment in time.” Even if it’s 30, 40 years later. What more could I ask of my camera. What more could anyone ask?

…i’m sure you’ll agree………for your viewing pleasure………

…….hugmamma.  🙂

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

ever have one of those days?

Wandering around looking for my camera. Can’t remember where I set it down. Checked its case, not there. Where’d I put it? In and out of rooms. All the time thinking, picturing, remembering. Took a few photos of Christmas past last night. Might be useful in my blog. Never know. But what’d I do with the camera afterwards. Doggone camera! Not on desktop, not on nightstand, not on dining table, not on sofa or chairs. Nowhere. Disappeared into thin air.

Calm down. Don’t panic. It’s not Alzheimer’s. Just simple case of misplacing something. It’ll show up. I’ll just ignore it for a little while. My brain will reset itself. And voila! The camera will appear right in front of my nose.

It’s like the other day when I was at the grocery store. Fred Meyer’s, I think. Don’t know why I input the pin I did, when I used my debit card in paying. The numbers just flew out of my head onto the machine pad. Twice, the numbers I typed in were wrong. I gave up, paying with a credit card. Leaving the store, I thought about what happened, and realized I’d not even been close. Where on earth did those numbers come from? At Trader Joe’s I tried again, twice! Again, a no go. I even mumbled something about getting old to the cashier, as I wrote a check.

Later that night, much later, my pin popped into my brain! Thank goodness, I thought. But where were those numbers? Where were they when I needed them? Roaming around in some far off corners of my mind, obviously. The next day they were back, performing like good little soldiers. I think I was at QFC, this time. Hmmm…???

My husband just asked me for the checkbook. Told him it was in my purse. It’s not there, he said. What??? Am I losing my mind altogether, I thought, as I got up to check for myself. Nope! There was the checkbook, in my purse, just as I said. “It’s here,” I bellowed, as he came back down the hallway. “Where?” he asked. “Right here, in my purse,” I said. As he took it and turned away, he chuckled as I started proclaiming that he was, in fact, trying to drive me insane, which wasn’t necessary. I could do that all by myself. Thank you. 

Once I’d stopped blogging, and was up and about anyway, I went in search of my camera again. Hubby and I threw quick questions back and forth. “You sure it’s not in your coat pocket?” “I checked! It’s not there.” “Where were you taking pictures last night?” “Around the Christmas displays.” Mocha’s barking the entire time, adding to my discombobulation. She was in a hurry to be out the door and on her way to her grooming appointment. She wouldn’t be, if she knew that’s where she was headed. Poor, misguided dog. I kept searching some more, as hubby left to run errands, Mocha in front, pulling on her leash. Still no camera.

Before he left, my spouse, so supportive as he is, reassured me that I wasn’t getting Alzheimer’s. He argued that oftentimes information we use so regularly, can escape us when we have to focus on it. In the moment, we’re unable to “stop on a dime,” and remember what it is we know like the backs of our hands. He backed up his assertion with the fact that he has difficulty remembering our daughter’s phone number, when dialing her on our home phone. That’s because it’s on speed dial on his cell phone. I agreed. But you know, Alzheimer’s is never far from my thoughts because of my mom having had it.

So, back to my camera. Where’s that darned thing? Probably watching from wherever it’s perched, having a good laugh! #@&?!!! #@&?!!! Ever have one of those days…?

and the day’s just begun…it’s only 10:27 a.m….hugmamma.

not so friendly skies

 Hearing about a Delta Airline flight whose passengers were closeted in a plane for 3 hours on the tarmac, inspired me to write this post. An engine problem was said to be the culprit, but upon close inspection nothing was found to be amiss. To Delta’s chagrin, the event was broadcast worldwide on YouTube. A very resourceful passenger captured his image with the camera on his cell phone.  Beads of sweat were shown cascading down his bald scalp, over his brows, and onto his cheekbones. It wasn’t a pretty sight. I can’t imagine that it felt any better than it looked. This picture ran countless times throughout the newscast. The Network drove home its point, and then some. Of course they included snippets of an interview with the passenger. In it he underscored how awful the situation was by explaining, that as a soldier, he’d served in Africa where temperatures soared well over 100 degrees. He’d also endured grueling conditions as a navy Seal. But nothing, he said, NOTHING could compare with the abhorrent conditions he experienced onboard Delta’s “flight from Hell.”  

Pictures of fellow passengers showed their disgruntled faces. Children’s cheeks were flushed from the heat. The air-conditioning was left off because of the supposed engine problem. A lone flight attendant finally took it upon herself to distribute bottles of water. Meanwhile, no announcements were made to explain the situation to the passengers. And according to the man in the picture, no apology was extended by Delta. I don’t remember what was contained in a formal letter sent by the airline. But judging from the man’s demeanor, it didn’t contain the mea culpa he expected. My husband and I experienced a similar situation on a USAirways flight leaving Philadelphia, but the outcome was considerably different.

Taxiing out on the runway, we were lined up with other outbound flights. It wasn’t clear if a passenger forced the captain to relinquish his place in line when she went to the bathroom, ignoring the “fasten your seat belt ” sign. I gathered that’s what happened because announcements were made to that effect. Pulling out of position, the plane went to the back of the line. Then Mother Nature stepped in, and “leveled the playing field.” All flights were delayed indefinitely because of bad weather in the Midwest. 

TV newscasts showing scenes like the one described earlier, drifted through my mind. I let myself go numb, knowing there was nothing to be done but settle in for the long haul. Getting agitated wouldn’t resolve the situation, and the accompanying stress would go against my resolve to stay healthy, and avoid Alzheimer’s. You know the old saying “Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face.” 

Unlike Delta’s indifference to its passengers, USAir kept us apprised of the status of our delay. It was like having an open phone line between the cockpit and the cabin. When the captain wasn’t on the line, the flight attendants were. At the time I was slightly annoyed. (I told you I was calm, not dead.) I just wanted them to stop talking and do something, anything, to relieve our discomfort. Even in business class, the seats were HARD. More disturbing, you’d have thought there was a party going on! (Helllooo…am I the only one wanting to get underway here?)  The  flight attendants strolled the aisle, smiling and laughing while serving up cups of water, and casually visiting with passengers who got up to remove items from overhead bins. All around me were voices chattering, while I sat with furrowed brow.

Finally, the captain announced that our plane would be returning to the terminal. Once there, the door was opened and a ticket agent came aboard. From the cockpit came a further update that our delay would depend upon reconfiguration of flight patterns due to the thunderstorms and lightning. What came next must have surprised my fellow travelers as much as it did me. We were told that, because of new government regulations, passengers were free to disembark to make other arrangements if they so chose. Now THAT caught my attention! Wow! An airline wasputting the passenger ahead of the “bottom line.” Of course they had their “neck on the block,” but no matter. While it didn’t make a loyal fan of me, USAir won my respect.

My husband and I have both worked in the airline industry, he with Pan Am, and me with Iran Air and TWA.  Airline employees enjoy very nice perks, foremost of which is traveling free or at greatly discounted rates. It does involve going “stand by,” where they literally stand around waiting to hear their names called if space is available on the aircraft. This can be nerve-wracking, especially when accompanied by young children who wonder aloud “Why can’t we get on yet?” The wait is worthwhile, however, if they’re upgraded to first class…for free.

When we flew our own airlines, we awaited takeoff, giddy and delighted at our good fortune.  Gazing out the window, we’d admire the planes bearing the company logo. We felt proud, and special. Proud to be employed by companies who transported people all over the world. Special, because we were part of what seemed a fantasy, air travel. We dressed accordingly, suit and tie for my husband, dress and heels for me. Stewardesses were fashionistas, carefully groomed from head to toe. How I admired, and wanted to be one of them. But they seemed an elite class. Pilots too seemed like mythical beings, ensconced in their private domain, the cockpit. Catching a glimpse inside was a treat, sitting in one during flight was memorable. I had that privilege once, on an Iran Air flight.  Reminiscing about air travel in decades past, makes me think how different it is today.

I’ve agreed with friends that flying today is like riding a bus. Line up; get your ticket punched; squeeze into a seat; read your book or paper; eat food you’ve brought aboard; get to your destination, deplane, and go your own way. Flight attendants are likened to waiters and waitresses, except they may, or may not, serve you something. These days, you couldn’t pay me to be one of them. I’d much rather sit in my comfy jeans, “catching 40 winks” or some part thereof. Now, passengers try to cram as much as possible into carry-on luggage, not wanting to hand over $15, $20, or $30 for checked bags.

Airline travel has certainly changed. Deregulation enabled airlines to set their own rates which allowed consumers more options in popular markets; not so much, in  less traveled markets. Big companies scrambled, some eventually closed their doors, or merged with others to survive. Small companies like Southwest and Jet Blue grew to prominence with travelers who wanted the biggest “bang” for their buck. The industry continues to expand and contract, mirroring the economy upon which it depends.

My initial experience with Southwest was terrible. Traveling with my husband and daughter, we stood in the haphazard line waiting to board. People were sitting on the floor or standing, luggage at the ready, making sure they’d get a good seat, for it was “first-come, first-serve.” Then unexpectedly a voice was heard over the loudspeaker calling out a gate change. A mad scramble ensued. Everyone made a dash for the new gate. Upon arriving there, our family was nearer the front of the line than before. Eventually we heard murmurings at the back that there was another change. Slowly the line unraveled, people running in another direction. Finally making it aboard the plane, my husband, daughter and I managed to sit together in one row. There and then, I made my husband promise never to book another Southwest flight again. He promised. 

Fast forward to now, and Southwest is my airline of choice. Management figured out that herding passengers like cattle wasn’t good for public relations. A new system was put into effect lining people up according to positions assigned upon check-in, A-1 through 30, B-1 through 30, and c-1 through 30. People are more civil; boarding runs more smoothly. Without the lengthy process inherent with other airlines, it seems Southwest is in and out of the gate more quickly. Service on board is comparable to major carriers, sometimes even besting them. Air fares are comparable or better.

Current air travel is a “free-for-all.” Passengers get, or don’t get, what they pay for; airlines make, or don’t make, a profit. Fate seems to have the upper hand these days. I’m not sure what to think.

what do you think?…hugmamma.