Women Are Like a Bag of Tea!

Eleanor Roosevelt once said that women could be compared to a bag of tea, so you only know how strong it is after it comes to a boil.

I have been boiling since Thanksgiving all due to my computer woes, old hands that knot up and skip a beat, a slow brain that does not understand new technology and a severe lack of patience.

Transmitting a howling scream of frustration in words on a piece of paper seems impossible, unless I think of myself as a tea bag dropped in boiling water and left to stand for hours on end.

After months of my right hand little finger hitting the insert key on my laptop and deleting, rewriting, and moving the words around, imagine the feeling of hot tears running down my face and my heart racing because my brain told me I couldn't do it. I couldn't finish my writing project. I couldn't type. I punched the wall of negativity with my voice in a low growl eventually elevating to a roar that sent the outside birds at the feeder to the nearest bush. My right hand pounded on the table. Storming out of my studio I bundled up and stepped outside to kick the soccer ball with Murphy. 

One ball nearly flew over the fence, and I watched Murphy turn and look at me as if I were superhuman. I finally buckled in laughter and frustration. 

With my mind and brain swept clean of cobwebs, Jack and I sat down to use his computer to see if it (not me) typed any better. It did not.

Little did I realize the concept of when and how I learned to type, 1963, made a difference in what my fingers do or don’t do. My fingers learned to type on a typewriter with a large space between the keys, much like the original keyboards with a desktop. My fingers and brain had no training at keeping my hands close together on a tiny laptop computer!  That knowledge or language alone would have helped to ease my frustration.    

However, on Jack's laptop with a slightly larger keyboard we accidentally discovered that Microsoft Word 365 gave me more options and a more efficient spell check for writing blogs and my Miami Country Club History writing project. We bought the program the next day, along with a new HP printer. 

Even with Microsoft 365 my fingers still created errors. At last, I called my neighbor, Stacie, and begged for help. She walked down that cool evening and downloaded the program successfully and shared some geeky info on steps and processes. Once she understood what my fingers were doing, she turned to me and said, "You need a new keyboard." 

Unable to grasp why a new keyboard would help, I also discovered the next day that my downloaded Microsoft 365 was not talking to me or the computer because I have two Google accounts and we downloaded it to the wrong account. How does that seem possible!

The next rescue came from Karena at Norman Nerds, who cleared up my mismatched google accounts and a few other errors. She also pointed her finger at me and told me to buy a new keyboard. With an online search she pointed out which one to purchase—the one with the dastardly "insert" key placed off to right bottom, away from disaster’s results. How sad to think that one key could make a difference in how a person computes! 

Wavy Keyboards for those over '60. 

*Logi Tech MK670 Combo, Wavy Keys 

With the purchase of a new wavy keyboard and another month of learning where function keys are and how they work, I began to relax. Thanks to coaching from Karena and young folks at the Norman Public Library I use the Microsoft 365 to type all my blogs and then transfer to the Blogspot pages. 

I also have learned that standing 5'4" and sitting in chairs made for larger adults can present issues on reaching the keys comfortably. I have learned to balance my elbows (since the chairs arms don't pull in enough to support my arms) on my torso so that there is no stress on my shoulders or elbows. Large chairs cannot accommodate my small stature. 

Before I add up the cost on solving the problem with my stiff fingers, let me share that a hidden costs that came in the evenings when I consumed several bottles of wine over the holidays. No, I am not proud. 

As for the tea, I discovered that I am mildly strong woman who might have made Eleanor proud. I begin the day with a mild tea and end the day with a herbal tea, and I still am using the computer and writing. 

**On a personal note, I highly recommend Bloomin' Desert Teas. Rosalind recommended that I drink the herbal Ginger Tea, and that has settled my stomach and nerves each evening and allows me to enjoy the evening without my tasty wine. Jack much prefers the "Red Rooibos" teas. 

I’m only getting healthy and my computer skills have improved with age!

Down the Rabbit Hole

 Alexander  said, " I'm having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. That's what it was, alright! and I'm moving to Australia." 

"Alexander,'" his mother said, "some days are like that, even in Australia." 

Tasmanian Countryside (thanks Vreni for the photo) 

 My thinking is, "It can't be terrible in Australia, because I am leaving my computer at home!." And if that is not enough I learned that my seven year old computer will not live long. 

"Laptops," Karena said, "only have about a five year lifespan." 

"After all the money it costs to buy that computer!," I screamed, struggling to be calm and relaxed. 

Thus, we began the moil and toil of laptop shopping, two weeks have passed and so far we are all still living, thanks to Norman Nerds for the clean up job on the computer. 

As if by touch magic, this morning we saw a round of robins in the back yard. We watched with unusual interest as they flew into our Nandina bushes and began eating the red berries, and jumping on them so that they dropped to the ground for the other robins. Our neighbor, Julie, shared with me stories about the robins eating her Holly berries, and getting drunk on the juice. She said they often flew into her glass windows when they drank too much.  As if on cue, a plump red breasted robin hit our windows. Stunned, it sat in the yard for over ten minutes, collecting its senses. My mind went down the rabbit hole searching for the right word for such a large number of robins. I discovered, in the rabbit hole, that we were watching a carol of robins, or a bobbin of robins. No, I think it was a riot of robins. On second thought it must be a rouge of robins. Actually,  I think I like a ruby of robins, best. ABC's of Collective Nouns

Oh, my mind does wonder around, and finds the craziest things.

“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?”

“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the Cat.

“I don’t much care where—” said Alice.

“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the Cheshire Cat

While working on my other blog, Miami Golf and Country Club History, my fingers have traveled all over the keyboard to words and commands that I didn't know. Australia is looking grand.  The blog requires hours of research and rewriting in chronological order. I must admit I've found hours of delight in reading this history, and I've lost numerous hours when my eyes and mind became distracted with a headline and picture. The 1935 headline read: 96 YEAR OLD MAN BECOMES A FATHER. The picture showed a tall gaunt man standing beside his wife and newborn son in a small bed. Another child was sitting on his lap. The story continued that the man was a veteran of the Civil War and hoped to have at least two more children before he died. Time to stop reading, I thought, or fly to Australia. 

“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.

“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”

 —Chapter 6, Pig and Pepper from Alice in Wonderland

All of the typing and writing has caused my right shoulder to flare up in striking pain. As aggravating as it is, I still continue to work out three times a week. Twice a week I am working with a trainer to gain strength without hurting myself. Now what is wrong with this picture?

Sanjay Gupta's newest book is about building a better brain. I just want my brain to keep working. I even tell my brain, "I Love You." One of his suggestions is to learn something completely new. "Dear Mom, I still don't want to learn how to play bridge." I do, however, think it would behoove me to become left-handed. I began doing Sudoku about a year ago left-handed because it seemed like a smart idea.  I've been successful. I noticed that my left-hand moves so slowly and deliberately that I rarely make mistakes, in order, in adding, or placement. Whereas, my right hand flies and crashes regularly either from moving too fast or pinching my shoulder nerves. I can put makeup on left-handed, ever so slowly and find it relaxes me, rather creating a frantic pace moment that I cannot maintain. Left-handed writing and drawing has failed, so far. Perseverance...

About two weeks ago, I decided that I would begin cooking, pouring, and drinking left-handed. Can you imagine that?  I discovered that the kitchen is designed for right-handed people, the stove top has dials on the right side, can openers are made for right-handed people, nails and hammers are made for coordinated people. I have my computer and supplies set up for a right-handed person.

And the moral of that is—‘Be what you would seem to be’—or, if you’d like it put more simply—‘Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.’” —Chapter 9, The Mock Turtle’s Story