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Thank you, I think

April 27, 2012

I have resisted the computer age as much as any man alive. When Elaine bought our first home computer, I was bewildered as to why we need that thing. I already owned a typewriter, fax machine, calculator and a deck of cards. I guess it was nice to combine those items into one machine, but it seemed like a waste of money to me.

 

Now we have websites, social networking and blogs and none of which I knew what they were until a few years ago.

 

When we were opening the store it was suggested that we get a website. I guess that made sense, since everyone had them or were getting them. Then they suggested we start a blog.

 

I had never read a blog and wasn't even sure what they were. Elaine and Ivy didn't have time (so they say) to write. They asked me to write something.

 

Ivy: Just write something about the store.
Me: I don't know anything about the store. (I actually know everything about the store; I just thought this blog thing would cut into nap time)
Ivy: There's a movie about a lady who read Julia Child's recipes, then prepared a different recipe every night and wrote about it. We should watch the movie and then you will know what we are talking about.

 

Elaine, Ivy and I watched the movie. By the time it was over I realized what they wanted me to do. They wanted me to cook dinner for them.

Me: So you want me now to cook dinner every night?
Elaine: Is that what you think?
Me: I know what you're up to, and I'm not falling for it. I already do most of the wor……
(Interrupting) Elaine: You better stop and think about what you're saying.
Me: Sometimes the truth hurts.
Elaine: At times I wonder why I married you!

 

Ivy suggested I read a couple of other blogs.

 

Ivy: You can write about what goes on in the store, like dyeing yarn and stuff.
Me: If I share my knowledge of this store everyone will want to own one.
Ivy: Why did Mom marry you?

 

It gets worse. Maybe you guys better get a beverage.

 

Then Elaine and Ivy told me I had to type the blog. I would not call myself one of Mrs. Lynch's (7th grade typing teacher) premier students. I got up to 35 WPM with 100% accuracy. It is hard to make mistakes when you are typing that slowly. She graded me harshly because I watched my hands.

 

Mrs. Lynch lived on my newspaper route. In the five years I delivered paper to her house, she never acknowledged I was her student. I really don't feel bad about throwing her paper in the lawn sprinkler. Whoa, I got a little off track there.

 

Elaine convinced me it wouldn't take that much time. (Of course she doesn't have time to do it) "The computer will help you check your spelling and grammar. We have Word software. It will help you. Just type and the computer will put red squiggles under typos. Go back when you're finished and correct the typos."

 

I can't wait until the end to correct the spelling. If I see a red squiggle, I need to change it now. Green squiggles I change at the end. OK, sometimes I just leave them. Some of you knew that.

 

Elaine: When you have written what you want you post it on the administrative pages of the web site.
Me: What?
Elaine: I'll show you
Me: Why don't you just do it?

 

We sat at the computer and she showed me the admin pages. They aren't pages. Pages are on paper. What she showed me was on the screen; what I saw was "admin pictures".

 

Elaine showed me on the admin "pictures" where the website will count how many times people read this stuff. She shouldn't have done that. Now I am obsessed. I show her the counts everyday, sometimes more than once.

 

Anyway, I started writing this crap and I had 226 readers the first month. (The software keeps track) I thought most of the readers were my relatives, but I asked my brothers if they read my stories. The answer was the same from each of them, "Why?"

 

This month (to date) Monner's Mumblings has been read over 5600 times. Thank you! Gosh, I hope it is more than one person. And I don't need to cook anything.

 

Our crazy lives!

 

Monner

 

PS You can't see it, but there is a red squiggle under Monner!

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