Technophobia

I do not suffer from technophobia (a real word, by the way). I didn't know all the ins and outs of creating a blog, for example, but I wasn't afraid to, obviously. When my daughter, Tierra, commented that I needed to tweek my layout to accomodate a background, I did it without any trepidation. However, I am not immune to making stupid mistakes.

Case in point: For more years than I care to admit, I have been writing a novel. I really have, painfully slowly, but I have proof--104 pages.

Now for the blunder confession. Much of my writing has been done on my government-issued laptop in evenings and on weekends while in travel status for my job. No problem there. Instead of saving my work to the hard drive, I always saved it to a portable storage device. Still no problem. However, earlier this year my agency began a mandatory encryption process for all the data on our computers. That's fine, too--until this author forgets that the portable device I stick into the computer is instantly "protected" with the encryption program. So, now my work is encrypted and I can't open the Great American Novel on any other computer. Boo. Hiss. If I were Chris Farley I'd be hitting myself in the head muttering, "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

I'm looking on the bright side, though. I printed out the 104 pages and will be doing an edit while I retype (now, that's an old-fashioned word) on my personally owned PC.

Snowed In

I am so fortunate to be a telecommuter. While I'm on leave (that's fed jargon for "vacation" )from my awesome federal government job until January 5, 2009, if I were required to go to "the office" this week I'd be in a world of hurt. Our driveway is impassable, full of snow from the Christmas Day blizzard we dodged by being in Orem visiting our kids. Our wonderful (and only) neighbors across the road attempted to clear out the drive with their 4-wheeler equipped with a snow blade, but it was impossible. When I say "driveway", I'm referring to a long, steep, curving lane that's about two city blocks long.

This isn't the first snow we've encountered in the three years we've lived here. We have an arrangement with some friends in Fielding who graciously allow us to park our van and car at their house so we can ferry back and forth from the homestead, about 3 miles, in Bryan's trusty (though ugly) 1986 Dodge pickup truck. This system works, but it's not convenient in the least. Bryan, not fortunate enough to be a telecommuter, has been required to go to Ogden (50 miles away) to work these past two mornings, entailing trudging down the drive in the dark, armed with his lunch cooler, backpack, and coveralls, clad in his Stablicers for sure-footedness. So, while he's away from home, I'm without transportation except for the tractor that I have no idea how to operate. If I fall down and "can't get up" I'll have to rely on my trusty cell phone to call for aid. The neighbors aren't even home, and the next nearest house is over two miles away. It seems to me that that the safest course for me is to take a couple of naps, sit around watching TV and reading, maybe add a couple more intriguing chapters to my novel, and totally avoid any chance of injuring myself, e.g. doing housework.