You Grab the Kids; I’ll Grab My Binder!

With my adult ADD, it isn’t often that I actually FINISH a project I start.  So when I do, I must shout it from the rooftops, no matter how inane.

Two years ago, I bought one of those recipe software programs.  You know, the ones that let you input all your personal recipes and categorize them, rate them, take pictures, etc, etc.

Cooking and baking are one of my greatest passions, so I thought it might be good for me to take all those terrific recipes from my two grandmothers, the ones I’ve clipped from magazines and newspapers, and those favorite ones I’ve created myself, and finally put them into some kind of organizational structure.recipe book

Sounds lovely…until you actually have to DO it.  So my project went  by fits and starts.  A recipe here.  A recipe there.  A few at a time during Deadliest Catch when the action got tense and I needed a brain distraction.

Then this May, for some reason, I got a second wind on the project.  I spent hours inputting and inputting all my remaining recipes, until one day I realized my stack of papers and 3X5 cards had dwindled down to nothing.  I had inputted every last one of the suckers!!

Next up: buying a new printer cartridge and letting them rip!  When the printer had exhausted itself, and the stack was complete, I had over 200 pages of my favorite concoctions, stews, and sweet nothings to show for it!!  Best thing?  The program prints out an index, categorized by name, cuisine, and category.  Oh, the glory of it all!  I took yet another day and put each page into a plastic protector sheet, and then all of those into a large three ring binder.  (After my children, it will be the first thing that makes it out in case of fire, I assure you)

And if I have some strange ingredients on hand?  I just input them into my program, and it will spit out at me all the recipes in my file that use those ingredients.  I gotta tell you – – this is a project that I am SERIOUSLY going to make use of!

Two years of work.  Check.  One spent printer cartridge.  Check.  A binder full of blood, sweat, tears, and my Nana’s pecan pie recipe?  Priceless.

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And You Thought The Matrix Was Just A Movie

My mom is on the mend.  She has been at the mercy of me, the physical therapist, and Oprah for over a month now, so she is probably more than happy to be getting closer to recovery.  Her doctor tells her that it won’t be many more weeks before she is putting her full weight on her foot.

In the meantime, Timeworn-Techie has been very productive.  She has read several great books (she highly recommends The Thirteenth Tale, a novel by Diane Setterfield to other invalids, and heck, readers in general).  She has also done some writing. She is currently working on a book about aging – – something she knows nothing about personally, of course, but has empathy for.  And… she has been taking phone calls.  Lots and lots of phone calls.  Not sure what it is about being down that makes people call you.  A captive audience, perhaps?  I guess they know you aren’t able to use that age-old excuse of “wish I could talk but I’ve gotta go (fill in blank here)”.  When you’re incapacitated, people know you don’t “gotta go anywhere”.  You are there for their listening pleasure.  Period. 

So T-T has caught up on the life and times of family, friends, acquaintances, and many folks she probably thought were already dead.  Surprise!  They weren’t dead – – just waiting until she couldn’t avoid them any longer.  One such distant acquaintance called her the other day.  He is a distant cousin once or twice removed, and she has only met him a couple of times, but he felt the strong need to call and check on her and tell her about this amazing opportunity she just shouldn’t pass up. 

It seems that Cuz-Techie (it seems to run in even the most distant of genes) had gotten involved in this wonderful online travel booking program.  Better than Expedia, easier than Travelocity, able to leap small buildings in a single mouse click.  A monkey could use it, he claimed.  monkey computer And your reserved room would always, always have clean sheets.  (Thank God, because the last hotel I went to had excrement and vomit smeared down both sides.  I could hardly sleep.)  This “Perfect Selection Travel” program had let him sign on as an agent, and all he had to do was build a team of agents and representatives under him, then he could sit back and rake in scads of money and bonuses.  In fact, the money was rolling in by the boatloads, he said, and sitting on her arse as she was, he knew that T-T would not want to miss out on this ultimate opportunity.

Sound familiar?  Yep, the pyramid scheme has gone high-tech.  Oh, sorry.  They don’t call them pyramids, anymore.  It is a “Matrix” strategy.  Forget selling dietary supplements and cosmetics to your fellow employees at work, this is SO much better.  This is something people REALLY need.  Everyone needs to travel, right?  And everyone has tons of vague relationships with people they don’t mind pissing off by asking them to join their “team of travel agents.”  So what’s to lose?  What could go wrong? 

Well here’s the funny part.  (And Cuz-Techie will miss the irony here), but T-T still calls me to her house to change the clock on her computer, and to find out why she can’t hear her the sounds that tells her she has email anymore (she accidentally hit the mute button with her elbow).  T-T doesn’t know her hard drive from her modem, and she has been on DSL for over a year now, and is still overcome with awe that people can call her while she is on the computer.  “How does the phone line know to split in two like that??” 

This is the woman that would be an online travel representative…working her magical world wide web powers to refer people to this wonderful program, and of course to build her own team of representatives under her, so she too could rake in the boatloads of cold hard cash and prizes.  I can’t blame the guy for trying.  T-T is in a highly vulnerable position for pyramid schemes, telemarketers, and long lost relatives at the moment.  Thank goodness she is a highly educated woman that is way too smart to fall for such a blatant ruse…       Darn! There’s the phone. 

“Hello?  Mom?  What do you mean you have a wonderful opportunity for me….”

Ok Grandma…Time For Your Wii-habilitation

My mom had surgery yesterday – – a complete ankle reconstruction.  At her age, I guess her ankles were developing unsightly wrinkles, so before sandal season, she decided to have them done.  (Just kidding, mom. Geez!)   Anyway, Grandma (for kicks, lets just call her Time-worn Techie, or TT for short) will be off her ankle for a few months, and in need of some serious physical therapy for quite a while.  But the great news?  Her grandsons are fully ready to be her primary therapists.

Apparently, according to the Associated Press, doctors and therapists are recommending the Nintendo Wii as part of some patients’ therapy protocol.  As all of us who have secretly been sneaking into the den after little Bobby and Betsy are safely tucked in for the night in order to play Wii Golf know, the Wii is more than just a little fun.  And playing Wii games requires many of the same range of motion movements that therapists use with their patients.  So combining fun and therapy is a win/win situation, right?

 

Well…unless you are not exactly as techie as some of us.  My husband had knee surgery last summer, and had a good many physical therapists throughout his recovery.  I have to admit I’m getting a little tickled trying to picture any one of those dear ladies trying to operate a Wii for their patients.  One of them had great difficulty remembering exactly where the therapy pool light switch was located each time.  I’m guessing that she might struggle a bit with setting up a patient’s Mii, toggling between connection settings, and logging patient game scores.  But who knows?  Maybe there was some suppressed, untapped tech-iness lying dormant underneath those hot pink scrubs.  I’m just thankful it didn’t burst out all over my unsuspecting hubby!

Perhaps we are getting to experience a new cultural phenomenon.  What if PT’s all over the country are aging out of their profession as we speak?  What if Wii Therapy begins being offered as a High School elective, and instead of heading to their part-time job at McDonald’s after school, teens beeline toward Regency Sports Therapy for some extra gas money?  Fathers all over America will be lecturing to their ten-yr-olds how they had to wash filthy cars and mow overgrown lawns to help out their family, and the time has come that they must pick up their Wii remotes and pull a little weight of their own.

Well, my boys are primed and ready.  They’ve spent countless hours in on-the-job training.  They have sacrificed precious homework time to prepare themselves for the task.  When TT gets home from the hospital, she has two of the most highly skilled, experienced Wii therapists at her disposal.  Just remember, mom…we don’t take insurance.  (I love you mom…get well soon!!)