Dear Kid,

If you’ve ever thought about buying a Lottery ticket today might be the day. Because the unthinkable, the unimaginable has happened.

Rarer than a Royal Flush, more unlikely than a calorie-free brownie, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Wait, that’s different.

Back to our story. Your father, the man who is reluctant to part with garbage, the man who wears t-shirts until they are 90% holes, laid his laptop to rest and bought a new computer.

He didn’t have much choice. He somehow managed to download a corrupted file. This wouldn’t have been the World’s Biggest Problem except that the computer in question was prehistoric (at best) which meant that none (emphasis on Not Any) of the software on his machine was still being supported.

Actual message: We’re sorry, but the program you are trying to access is outdated and no longer supported. You are the only person on the planet still trying to use this program. This makes you a technical dinosaur. Get a new machine.

At first, Dad challenged The Message. He was determined to cleanse his computer and continuing using his antediluvian machine. He researched. He investigated. He went to Microcenter and beseeched them to resuscitate his laptop. No matter how hard he begged, they laughed harder.

Finally, after suffering Severe Email Withdrawal, Dad caved and bought a new laptop.

He and the New Laptop are getting to know each other. They are more stuck with each other than working like a well-synchronized team. Because the operating system is, um, modern, Dad is having to figure out where things are and what the new capabilities are. This is – not surprisingly – leading to frustrations and inefficiencies. Which leads to more inefficiencies and frustrations.

Be that as it may be, Dad actually has a laptop that was manufactured in this millennium!

Which means it’s Lottery ticket day.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

That horrible, eardrum shattering, twisted metal, nails on a chalkboard screech you just heard was the world shuttering to a halt.

It is not a good day. Do not buy a Lottery ticket, do not pass Go, do not collect $200, do not even think about unicorns with rainbow poop.

I cannot connect to the internet. (For the record, I am posting this from Dad’s computer.)

Last night, I upgraded to Windows 10.

Just to be clear, I know that Technology and I do not exactly have the greatest of all relationships. I know that I am capable of shutting down HAL-sized machines just by being part of the same universe. And I know that one does not instantly run out and adopt the latest and greatest new operating system; one waits for the bugs to be discovered and corrected. Especially if One is Me.

I did not try to adopt Windows 10 the instant it was offered. I waited patiently. (No, seriously, I was patient. It was not a matter of Great Interest to me.) I watched others, I read reviews, I talked to Knowledgeable People, and mostly I waited.

When the aforementioned Knowledgeable People indicated the coast was clear, the bugs were zapped, and the upgrade was safe, I still waited.

Finally, last night I thought, What the heck.

Let me tell you, what-the-heck.

Not only does the upgrade take about 17 hours (during which I made soup, cleaned out three cabinets, and watched reruns of Burn Notice), it requires you to shut down and restart several many times.

No problem. Burn Notice.

But then—and this, my dear child is where things went Oh, So Terribly Wrong—my lovely, darling sweet computer turned into a stubborn hunk of metal.

It simply refused to connect to the internet.

At all.

Shut down. Restart.

Same refusal.

Click all the Let-Me-Help-You buttons. They require an internet connection. ARRRRG!

Twelve hours later, I have not resolved the problem.

I am not, just in case you were confused about the matter, a happy camper.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

ODE TO THE INTERNET
On a painfully slow day

I sit and wait for you to load
You’re not as fast as I was told
The time it takes is gone for good
Come on! This is my livelihood!

I sit and wait for you to load
It’s long past time you finally showed
And trust me now, I won’t forget.
I need to reach the internet.

I sit and wait for you to load
And now my dinner’s growing cold
And still I wait and wait and wait.
I’m getting bored; it’s getting late.

I sit and wait for you to load
I’m going into panic mode
I’ve got to get my story set
I’ve got to reach the internet!

I sit and wait for you to load
I think my head just might explode
As time continues not to fly
Without the ‘net, I just might die!

I sat and waited all night long
I even wrote this little song
A wasted night that I regret
I still can’t reach the internet…

Love, Mom

You want to share this one, don’t you? Go ahead. It’s OK.

Dear Kid,

Speaking of technology (and that’s what I was talking about yesterday), things have now gotten completely out of hand.

Science (I like thinking about the entire field as a single entity. I know it isn’t but knowing and liking are two entirely different things) has invented Nadine.

This would be a good time to “ooh” and “ahh” in appreciation. Science likes oohs and ahhs and appreciation.

Nadine is a robot full of piles (that’s the technical term) of lovely artificial intelligence. She talks, she shakes hands, she takes coffee breaks, she gossips (not really on the coffee and gossip), and she costs about 2 zillion times what a live receptionist costs.

Here’s the video. You should watch the whole thing, especially the part where he explains why she’s kind of creepy. Very interesting.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

It’s a weird thing with technology. Size matters.

From the deep scientific study I’ve conducted, it seems that when a new technology is introduced it is medium sized. Then bells, whistles, frills, lights, buttons, and sequins are added (just kidding about the sequins) and the size grows. Bigger is better. Bigger means more horsepower, more features, and more testosterone needed to carry the device. Think boom boxes in the late 1900s. If your boom box was big enough to require its own zip code, it was big enough to generate sound waves that loosened building foundations throughout the country. That was good.

It may have been a plot by the Builders and Foundation Reinforcement Committee of America. It certainly wasn’t a musical improvement.

It seems that once technology reaches a certain size, it begins to shrink. Smaller is cooler. Smaller is more compact and petite. Smaller costs more so it must be better.

Then – because Newton said so – for every action there is an equal and opposite technological trend. So technology gets bigger again. Think TVs and cell phones.

This cycle is known as the apple-coaster even though it pre-dates The Steves.

Speaker technology is busy riding the ‘coaster. Once upon a time, personal speakers the size of mountains were envied. Over the years, they’ve shrunk even as sound quality has improved.

Now it’s not only getting smaller, it has a voice.

You’ve probably heard of Amazon Echo. I hadn’t, but I’m not a trendy college student. Echo is a small, artificial intelligence speaker. With an artificially intelligent voice named Alexa.

Because not everyone in the universe has an Echo, Amazon is introducing a smaller (and by “smaller” they mean cheaper) version. The new one is slightly less slick than the original version, but you still get Alexa (just an Alexa who doesn’t listen as much as the original).

I’m waiting for an even smaller (and by “smaller” I mean cheaper) version. I figure I’ll be about ready for it when it’s the size of a fingernail. Of course, at that size I’ll lose it. So maybe not.

Love, Mom

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