Not The Mommy! Not The Mommy!

On Friday mornings (supposedly) my housecleaners are scheduled to clean my house (supposedly). We were out late last night, so got up early to “straighten” up for the housecleaners. (Don’t laugh – you know you do it, too!)

I left the house to make an 8:20 a.m. appointment. I realized I had forgotten to leave payment, so called and asked ThatManILove to take care of it for me.

TMIL: Janie-girl, where’s the checkbook?
Janie: In my grandmother’s hutch. If it’s not there, it’s in my computer bag in the closet.
TMIL: Okay.

Later on this morning, I was having a quick phone conversation with Jill of JillJillBoBill fame, and ThatManILove calls on my office phone. Here’s how it went down:

TMIL: I have ransacked your bedside table drawers, and I cannot find your checkbook.
Janie: Dude. You wrote the check for me last week, and I’ve not written any more checks. Where did you put the checkbook?
TMIL: I don’t know.
Janie: Did you look in my grandmother’s hutch, or my computer bag?
TMIL: No. I just remember sitting on your side of the bed and writing the check.
Janie: Then you probably got the checkbook out of my computer bag.
TMIL: You’re right! Here it is! Bye!

I can hear Jill laughing on the other phone. By now, I’m freakin’ growling. Immediately, I hear Jill’s husband Rick come into their house, and ask Jill a question. I'm straining my ears to hear.

Rick: “Honey, do you know where I left my shoes?”

Jill answers him, giving him the exact location. I crack up. Jill joins me. I mean, the timing of our husbands.could.not.have.been.better.

Janie: Tell Rick I think he and TMIL may be brothers from a different mother.

And everyone wonders why women age faster than men.

One Score And Eight Years Ago

These pix are posted just to assist in setting the tone for this most serious post.  (Not really.  They're meant to go towards the end of the post, but this.damn.Macbook.  Arrrrrgh.)  Okay, back to these pix.  Elder Son. Christmas.  Playing with knives (and scabbards.  I know.).   It's all show, the blowhard. He's about the farthest thing from a gangsta you can get.  (Now, wait.  He's not gay or anything.) (Not to offend any gay gangstas...chill.) Hell. Let's just read on.

Twenty-eight years ago today, just past midnight, I was the most excited mom in the world – you had just been born. My son. My long-awaited firstborn. I knew your name years before you drew your first breath of air.

We’ve been through much together - love, heartbreak, excitement, and more! I’ve been your mother, your comforter, your playmate, your encourager, and your biggest fan. You’ve been my son, my comforter, my playmate, my encourager, and my biggest fan.

You are one of the funniest people I know – you’re a born entertainer, and people far and wide love you. You make friends easily, from all walks of life, and keep them forever. You’re quick-witted, and fun-loving. You have a heart of gold.

I have enjoyed watching you over the years as you mastered the art of showing dogs, goats, whatever would go into that show ring at the end of a rope. And then, finally, you were old enough to show steers – and went on to win shows all over the nation. (Remember when ThatManILove first saw your awards? He said, “Well. The Ego has landed.”) Now that you’ve grown past stock showing age, you’re passing on your skills to your little half sisters. I love that about you, and I love how those beautiful baby girls love you right back. I remember from age 1 1 /2 how you loved to dress as a rodeo clown, and won many a rodeo clown contest. They were always putting your photos in the paper.I remember when we were on the youth promotions committee at the rodeo and I looked for you and couldn't find you.  When I found you, you were down on your knees, a 6' tall 14 year old, teaching 3 little kids how to do the macarena, just to keep them occupied until it was their time to participate. I love how you love hunting, shooting, roping, dancing, wakeboarding, snow skiing, and a million other things. I love watching you play the guitar, and playing alongside Younger Son and ThatManILove. I love how you love Younger Son and That Man I Love. I love it when you play and sing one of your songs, and they join in, and vice versa. I love how music makes your world go round.

Remember when you were a senior, and you took me dove hunting, and we were on the mule, waiting for flybys by the flowline? And we turned around, there were about 50 dove on the ground, drinking water, within 5 feet of us? We got tickled, gave up, went back to the house and got the coyote hunting equipment (including the tape of those squealing rabbits?).

I love when we go on vacation that you’re content to chill with us with zero agenda but to all be together. I love that music flows through our family and is one of the ties that bind. I love how the four of us attend concerts together. I know the time we spend together is something precious; rest assured I never take it lightly.

I loved watching you at Christmas when you opened your annual trick package, saw how it was Mac software, and could say nothing but “Sh*t! Sh*t! Oh, Sh*t!”, knowing the MacBook had to be the next present. (It’s cool to see that no matter how old you get, you have never lost the ability to get excited. ) Then, when it’s “KnifeTime” and we break out the annual gift of knives to you and Younger Son, you immediately discern the hours of workmanship and excellence that someone put into making that knife. It’s a work of art, and you recognize and appreciate the art. Then, we get a different, more reverent type of “Oh, Sh*t!”

When ThatManILove and I got married, you were traveling all over Kingdom Come, rodeoing. When you got into town, you had horses and a underage girlfriend in tow...and due to circumstances beyond all of our control, combined with inclement weather, y'all ended up going on our honeymoon with us? And you and ThatManILove ended up staying at the Stockyards in your truck with the horses nearby in pens, while your girlfriend and I occupied the honeymoon suite? Yes. Just so you don't forget - I postponed my honeymoon for you, doofus. I love you.

You and I often trade high scores at the shooting range, but I suspect you let me win. (But if I find out that’s the truth, I will hurt you. Remember, I brought you into this world, I can certainly take you out.) I remember one time you said, when we were at a range, “Mom. This sucks. They have all these father-son shooting events…why don’t they have a mother-son shoot? You and I could so rock that!” The range owner has never forgotten that comment, and always brings it up. Each time, I’m reminded how blessed I am and how much I love you.

In more recent years, I’ve seen you gain much maturity. (I knew it would happen sometime!)

I can’t believe the years have passed and you’re nearing thirty years of age. I should be feeling old, but instead, I’m expectant and my heart soars when I think of you. I know this is only the beginning of your life, and there is more to come. If it’s anything like your past, it should prove to be good entertainment. I’m still as excited for you and your future as the day you were born. It has been my good fortune to come to know you, and I know it. Thank you for that.

Happy Birthday, Elder Son. I love you more!

Becoming One With the Mac - by Captain Smack

Oh, yeah, I can hear the crowd roaring now: Be the Mac! Be the Mac! Be the Mac!

Holly, The Blue Ridge Gal and My friend JP of The Big Red Lunchbox and the photoblog Bleu Chocolate (go check him out!) all left Mac tips for which I’m very grateful. I will be trying them out. Brother Scott told me to call upon my nephews, which is a dang good idea, if I can possibly coordinate my calendar with their calendar. Lots of people told me to just go ahead and load my shotgun.

Captain Smack from the blog “This Is Your Captain Speaking” left a comment concerning my Mac I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up MacRant yesterday.

With his permission, I’m going to share it with you.

"If you're having trouble with The Mac, it is a spiritual problem, not a technical one. The Mac is not a brand, dear, it is a religion. Obviously, you are not believing in The Mac hard enough. To become one with The Macness, say this prayer:

Dear Steve Jobs

Who art in iHeaven

Hallowed be thy apps

I giveth unto you

Thy heart Thy soul

And thy credit card information

In hopes that you will show me

The error of my PC ways

And leadeth me from temptation

The temptation of using a much cheaper

And much more user-friendly product

For you are The One

And The Zero

And all the ones and zeros

The Alpha and Omega

Not to mention that iPhone thingy

Which really kicks ass

Though it is a bit pricey

But I digress

Anyway

Please give your commercially hip guidance

To me, my mouse, and my wallet

And show me

The Way

The Way to copy a simple file from one folder to another, which really shouldn't be that hard, but for some reason is, like, a total freaking pain in the ass, what the hell???

*ahem*

I shall fear not

As I walk through the shadow of the valley

Of bad customer service

And confusing help menus

And toolbars placed in odd locations

For no apparent reason

For I know that at the end

Of this struggle

I will learn how to copy/paste jpegs

And even install some freeware

And then it will all make sense

For I can brag that I have a Mac

I am one of The Chosen Ones

And all those PC users

Can kiss my ass.

Whatever and ever

Amen"

Mac-a-doodle-dooooo! (A Cry In the Darkness For Help)

As some of you may remember, ThatManILove bought me a MacBook Pro for Christmas.
And, believe it or not, I’m having Windows withdrawal symptoms. Or, Mac adjustment problems. I thought it was supposed to be an intuitive machine. To my credit, I've only been on it about 10 times since Christmas, due to mi vida loca and crazy schedule.

I can’t right click to copy.

I can’t copy and edit hyperlink with the click of a button and the drag of a mouse.

I can’t watch a wmv.

I can barely drag a post from Pages to my blog (though that is pretty cool!), and when I do, it loses format.

Help! Maybe I can call 1-800- Mac for Dummies??

Any suggestions for tutorials? I can’t be the first dummy to want to be Mac literate! Run to my aid, fellow bloggers! I don’t want to be stuck in the dark ages forever! And what the heck am I going to do with all my contacts in Microsoft Outlook?

Update: I went to Best Buy, to my local Mac expert. I told him all the above, and he said:

I've not utilized a Windows PC in 18 years.

And that's the expert that's supposed to help me? Where's my freakin' shotgun? I asked him if there were any tutorials other than the ones on the machine, and he told me to go buy a book on Leopard. You guessed it. My response: What's Leopard? Yuppers, I've got some homework to do.

I did spend another $300+ dollars for the Mac Airwaves wireless modem (because Mac doesn't like Linksys) and a cable to transfer data from my PC to my Mac ; all which leads me to believe if I spend enough money, I'll get it all down. Until then, I'll take all the help I can get.