Waging war...

My poor beleaguered husband knew what he was getting into.
He was known as "Magical Marc" before he married me because he was so good at identifying a computer's problem and fixing it.
I learned quickly to holler for him when I forgot a password or found that an update has fouled my well-working browser.
It was easier and quicker to get him to fix it than to argue because A. he understands computer ease and B. I try to convince a computer to just go with my plan.
Over the years, I've learned that he has to drive if I want him to fix things and he has learned that I don't want advice, just results.
I still stare at him blankly when he asks me my Apple ID.
What is that? Is it in my book of passwords? Can I make it up on the spot?
It's truly a coming together of two different worlds.
He can't figure out why I don't just know these things like I know my Social Security number and my birth date.
I can't see why I should carry these things around in my head.
I try writing everything down in a little blue book.
Then, when I am asked for a user name/password, I can flip through pages and find it!
The problem is when it's something I can't control by having written it down.
For instance, we are trying to put a local department store on an automatic payment plan.
I missed a payment deadline because this particular store is SO tough to deal with online. I try to go in right after I buy something and it's too soon to pay at the store. Then I forget.
I have tried to pay the bill online but I get into one of these infinity loops where the computer needs your mother's maiden name and refuses to believe you know what it is.
I told the little fellow at customer service I wanted to cancel or get on Autopay. He said I had to do that at home on my computer or on the app on my phone.
That's when I brought in Marc.
He tried to resolve things and after much cussing and gnashing of teeth, he gave up and hauled off to the store. The ladies at the store looked at him sorrowfully and sent him home.
Now, after being "helped by five customer service people," after being locked out for too many tries and now being told a supervisor will call us, we stand defeated.
Our bill says its still unpaid and due.
We can't get into our account. We can't buy any more towels or shoes.
They have our bank account routing number.
Meanwhile, I think Marc is thinking he needs a brighter wife.

Stage courage...

The little violinist was maybe 4 or 5 years old.
He was standing in front of an audience gathered to hear the graduates of a Suzuki program.
There were proud parents and siblings and grandparents like me who wanted to see their students play the music they'd learned over the past year.
It was beautiful music and well played.
(Every time I hear Suzuki students play, I am so impressed!
Suzuki is the method of teaching violin introduced by the Japanese musician Shinichi Suzuki. Suzuki introduces very young children to fine music that includes teaching discipline, endurance and a love for classical music.)
This young man was doing fine on his instrument when he suddenly broke into tears, his face crumpling as he worked his bow back and forth, back and forth.
We in the audience recognized his sad situation but could do nothing to comfort him.
We simply watched him soldier on, feeling badly for him but knowing his tears would pass and he would someday realize he'd overcome stage fright, played through the fear.
In the meantime, it was tough to watch this small musician play on while he grimaced and wiped his face with his sleeve.
I think he had everyone in the audience pulling for him and to his credit, he stuck it out.
Bravo!

This is a sample Suzuki lad, not the one who started crying.

Getting a steal...

We laughed when the teenage boy showed us the aisle of clearance toys that were selling for $5. Three for $5!
We told him the sign must be wrong, that it couldn't be.
"No, no," said the lad. "All of these from here to here $1.99 each or three for $5."
We took a closer look. The toys were all baby toys but decent toys and we had baby birthdays coming up.
We hesitantly worked through them.
There was a kind of Shape-O toy snail, a set of colorful stacking rings and a snap-together chain of little balls.
We started to make a pile of the three we might need to buy.
(We already had a birthday truck that came with a plastic toy drill for the birthday boy. That was a good price too but nothing like the toys on the clearance row.)
We asked the sales boy again.
"Are you sure this is right? This doesn't seem right."
"Yes! Yes!," It's a good deal!" the boy said earnestly, "This whole row, from here to here, is on the sale. My manager just wants to get rid of these."
Marc and I are both longtime skeptics so we took our time looking for what might be wrong here.
We looked for damage. We checked for problems. The brands were good. The boxes were intact. The colors were bright and we knew of several grandkids who would like these toys.
I started making a mental list.
If this were really a legitimate offer, I might be coming back for some early Christmas shopping.
(When you have 40 grandkids, you have to think ahead.)
Now, granted, the toys we were seeing were for babies and we only have a couple that age anymore but the prices of the toys and items around the rest of the store were pretty appealing too.
We took the toys up to the counter.
"Ok, we'll try to buy these," we said.
The boy started to ring them up.
The machine gave him trouble.
"Oh, of course," we surmised. "It's not going to be a real sale."
He got on the phone to his manager.
"Yes, yes. Ok, yes," he said.
We thought, here it comes but he nodded to the phone and started punching in numbers.
"Ok, $5," he said triumphantly.
Really?
We paid and we beat it, feeling like we robbed the place.

We might go back for more.

Skiing between cell towers...

It was Marc's opportunity to join the Cache Valley grandkids for a day of skiing.
Never mind that it was snowing heavily and Logan Canyon (along with American Fork Canyon, Little Cottonwood Canyon and a number of other popular canyon routes) were closed due to a number of avalanches.
He left our house around 7:30 a.m. to meet his daughter and her twin 9-year-old grandsons at Beaver Mountain at around 10-ish, I thought.
(I tossed my skis, along with my Olympic dreams, about 10 years ago, in favor of having working knees and original hips.)
I didn't worry overmuch until around noon when I started seeing news reports of multiple avalanches in the canyons.
Logan Canyon was reportedly closed.
Hmmm.
That is on the way to Beaver Mountain ski resort.
I knew the cell phone service was not good, in fact, pretty much non-existent where he should be.
But did he make it to the resort before the closure?
I did some detective work and found he had charged the lift pass so he must be on the hill.
I went on about my business at home.
But around 3 p.m. I started a new round of worries.
What if he was stuck? What if he was just taking his own sweet time? What if he didn't care that I was stressing about his well-being?
When should I expect to hear from him?
How heavy was the snow where he was skiing?
Couldn't he call from the road once he started home?
He was scheduled to drive by another household of grandkids in Tremonton on the way so I figured he could call from there...
Nothing.
I went from worrying to fuming.
Finally a call, from Bear Lake. What???
They'd started home and been re-routed to Bear Lake and around to Preston, Idaho.
He made it here at around 10 p.m., safe and sound but pretty tired of driving in the snow.
I was pretty worn out from all the anxiety.
I'm thinking next time he better pack a lunch or a bag.

Stripperbowl2020

It seemed to me that the Superbowl halftime antics were a bit over the top...and up the sides and way too close to the middle.
I thought maybe it was just the grandma in me that found the moves more risque than usual but I'm reading and discovering that I wasn't the only old lady offended by them.
Lots of Superbowl fans are complaining, a lot of them parents with young children.
It seems Jennifer Lopez and Shakira pushed the envelope for plenty of families who just wanted to tune in and see a football game and an entertaining halftime show.
It was more of a shocking show, can you say titilating?
Just when you think the ladies dancing can't be any more bold, they trim off some more costume. And shake their...uh...booty.
I think we are at the line here.
Why are we as an audience supposed to be okay with so much skin and so little modesty?
The "wardrobe malfunction" a while ago could possibly be passed off as an accident or an unintentional moment of bare skin.
But the show on Sunday was deliberately designed to be extra sexy.
I don't think I'm out of line to complain.
I didn't like watching the show with my husband.
I can't imagine explaining it to youngsters.
Please. Bring back decency.
That would be super.