Out of RAM

There's an aphorism making the rounds on Facebook. It's in regards to the knowledge available to us in this digital age. A person from the 1900's shows up and what would you tell him about the difference between then and now. The answer is how you can hold the sum total of the world's knowledge in the palm of your hand and access it instantly. Oh and you can make a phone call, if you wish. I got a new mini computer before my vacation.

It's the one on the left. It's the 4s iPhone. I don't consume data like you young whippersnappers do. If I want information, I generally use a desktop computer to look it up. I use a phone as you used to use those things you had hanging on the wall in your house, to make and receive calls. I did figure out how to set up Facebook on the old phone. Setting it up on the new phone involves many more steps that confuse me. I have a mapping service that I will use tomorrow when I have to drive to a location in southern Wisconsin to do inspections. I have access to weather. That's nice.

I understand I could use it instead of my CD's, as a music player. I'm willing to wager it doesn't have the wide breadth of jazz or Scottish music that I prefer on those long drives. The soundtrack to Despicable Me 2? Check. King Oliver and the Hot Five? Probably not.

I've been told I can watch movies on my phone. When my boss said I could do that, I gave him a blank stare. Why would I want to watch something on a 3 inch by 2 inch screen? He just chuckled and said that you do lose resolution, but our data plan would allow for movie streaming if I found myself stuck somewhere.

Apple announced their new operating system for their computers last week. I have been kind of blah about the upgrade announced last year, but this new one, Yosemite, has me more excited. That it's free is even better, but one thing in the reviews made me more excited than other things. If I sync my phone with my home computer, I can take things I was working on at home with me to finish on my phone. There have been a lot of times that I have wished I could finish a writing document when I find myself stuck somewhere. "Oh yeah. I was working on that story. I'd love to be able to finish it." It seems I'll be able to do that with the new OS.

All of this brings up what I like to term "the over 40 out of RAM" situation. The older I get, the more convinced I am that, just like man made computers, our brains have a finite amount of memory. As we age, that amount gets filled up with things like important dates; how to do our jobs; how to get home; which key opens the back door and which key opens the office door; the names of the leaders of the civilized and, maybe, the uncivilized world, stuff like that. There's also room for memories of faces and places and events. But there's a limit to what you can remember. When you have to learn something new, the filing cabinet that is your brain throws something out, much like I do in January when I clear out checks from 1996. Don't need those anymore.

The problem with the brain cleaning things out is that you have no control over what it remembers and what it discards. I know I knew more about Art History than I can remember. My college was one course from an Art History minor. I took everything they had because it was interesting. I even took the Art Appreciation course provided to non-Art majors, people who had to take a liberal arts appreciation course and chose Art from English, Theater, Art or Music. (I wasn't allowed to take the English appreciation course. As an English Major, I had to take the Comp and Lit class for majors because the appreciation course was deemed "below" me.) I probably know more about English literature than I can currently remember or the history of the Bible (really, really interesting class). I can't remember how to make drip coffee. My dad taught me how to make it so I would make it before he left for work. I used to know some plants by sight because gardening interests me. I attribute the loss of this information as my brain's RAM is out of memory.

So, faced with a brand new phone, I haven't delved into all the things this piece of equipment can do. I can text people and I can make phone calls. I have figured out how to take photos and email them to myself. There are probably things my phone could do which would make my life easier, which would help alleviate the loss of data in my head. It's just that I don't know how to do it on the phone.

What I probably need is to keep a list of things which confuse me and then take said list to the nice gal who set up the phone. "Can you please show me how to..."I learn better that way anyway. My mom keeps a note pad by her computer so when I need to show her how to do something, she writes it down. That's probably a good idea for me, too, until the action become part of my memory.

It won't help me make good drip coffee, but I might remember if this is coreopsis or something else.

Beverage:  Dunkin Donuts tea

Deb

Hi Mom!

I've been home a week now after being gone a full 8 days. (Yes, a full report on the vacation will be upcoming.) The girls were watched by my friend, Pam. Mija usually came to see her when she came in the front door. Pilchard has taken a spot on the bed and that's where she stays. Sometimes she comes to greet me when I get home, but usually not. She's grown into the "oh, it's you" state. I'm not quite used to that. I still get a momentary panic when she doesn't come. Having had one cat die at home while I was at work, when she doesn't come, I worry. Then, I go into the bedroom and she's sitting on her spot on the bed looking at me, giving me that look. Every cat companion knows that look. "I'm right here. Why are you yelling?"

Pam said that toward the end of my vacation, even Mija wasn't coming in the morning. She would go into the bedroom and they would both be on the bed. She took to giving them their treats in bed. Oh the luxury. There was only one "accident" on the living room rug while I was gone, but Pam and I both knew it was no accident. It was a statement. "Mom is gone. You're not mom. I'm registering my displeasure."

Since I've been home, both have followed me around. I expected this. It's the "Don't ever leave us again" syndrome. I blogged about Pilchard over at House Panthers. She's been quite clingy since I got back.

I haven't really seen behavior changes other than following me around. I did find someone's breakfast on the hall floor this morning. The worst thing was Wednesday night. I climbed into bed and smelled poop. It smelled close but there have been some whopper stinks coming from the litter boxes this week. I settled down and rolled onto my side to get comfortable and my arm hit something soft and spherical. You guessed it. I have no idea whose idea it was to make a deposit in the bed, but I know it was because there was displeasure at my being gone. I got up and stripped the sheets, sleeping on a blanket. Yesterday, I wiped down the mattress cover and replaced the sheets.

I thought I had prepared them for being gone, but time passes differently to cats than to humans. It must have seemed like a very long time; days changing to nights and no sign of mom. There was no one to play with other than one's sister, a fact I'm seeing in growling, hissing and spitting. I haven't had a full-blown cat fight, but given how pleasant they have been lately, I'm expecting that this weekend. I've made sure the bathroom floor is clean for the inevitable isolation of someone as punishment for the snarling.

In the meantime, we are back to our usual routine. I go off to work and return home. I do a couple of chores and then sit down to watch the news or read the current book. Mija hops up next to me and "talks" to me about her day. I extend my right arm and she flops down on top of it.

It's one of the highlights of the day, actually. She purrs and purrs and kneads the blanket on the recliner or, if she's close to me, my pants. She will monopolize my hand for a good 45 minutes. Pilchard, meanwhile, jumps up into my lap and complains about disproportionate scratches until I scratch her ears and she settles down in my lap.

Wednesday was Hug Your Cat Day. I hug them every day and I do believe they know how much I love them. This fighting is, I think, just like kids in the "Mom loves me best" derby. I hugged them both on Wednesday and told them I loved them. It's hard not to want to hug them when I have this face waiting for me when I come home.

Beverage:  Water

Deb

Finally

These have been in the kitchen since December of last year.

I finally moved them to the basement when I got back from vacation. I think, since it's June, it's probably safe to put them down there. Don't laugh. After the winter we had, I'm superstitious enough to keep them upstairs until ALL chances of snow are gone. I guess I'm trying to ward off another year without a summer.

Beverage:  Water

Deb

I Can't Tell Time

I mentioned earlier this year that this clock had ceased to work and that I would need to replace the clockworks to get it running again. It has a distinctive "tick tock" to it which was was so used to that the only time I noticed it was when the power went out. "Ah yes. The clock still runs."

Well, that ceased. It was low on the list of things to do, to fix this. As a visual piece of art, it still had a place on my wall. A number of you probably have a clock inherited from some long departed family member, a clock that doesn't work and you're not sure how to make it work. An aside, the digitization of everything has left clock repair people in extremely short supply. Can you even train any place to fix grandfather clocks? How sad if you can't get great aunt Tillie's clock fixed. It becomes, like the one above, an art object.

In spite of knowing that it wasn't working, I would still consult it every day. It's right twice a day, even if the hands are frozen. So, imagine my surprise when, about mid-May, I was reading and heard the familiar "tick, tick, tick" of the clock. I looked at the clock and darned if the second hand was moving. I grabbed my phone and, wonder of wonders, the time was even correct.

I swear. Unless I'm sleep walking, and I've not been known to do that, I didn't do anything with the clock. Nothing. Not one thing. With a vacation upcoming, I decided fixing it would wait until I returned. The only thing I didn't like was that every other clock in the house is electrical, excepting my cell phone. If it's 12:35 a.m. and the power goes out, finding my cell phone at the bottom of my purse isn't a guarantee, either, and, knowing me, it's liable to be dead because I forgot to put it on charge. I have no clue what happened.

Since this time, it's stopped and started and stopped and started. The time on it is about 35 minutes later than real time. But it's working. I should replace the mechanics. Then I know it's keeping proper time, but being a half hour early for something isn't necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps I just like the reassuring "tick, tick, tick".

Beverage:  Water

Deb