With Dirty Dishes in the Oven

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Left to R: Mom Ellie, Beth, G behind then in an Hawaiian shirt, and Aaron. At the Fair, 2006.

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Himself: Busy, busy, busy, then volunteer at the museum and dinner with the feasters. He drove. I can’t believe it. One block. Ate too much. Herself: Drag and dropped. Ate too much. Reading: Cadell. Balance: Time at the computer and time away from the computer.

Of course, I bit off more than I could chew. Right now I have 640 MB of family pictures waiting for order.

“Oh, keep going. Load them in,” says the Geezer. “You have at least 4 GB left….out of 4.7 GB.”

I’m learning. Burned out on Windows annoyances tho. For instance, if a sub folder won’t take a label and says it’s too long, I’ve learned to make it a primary folder. Then it will take anything no matter how many names and more names.

To cut down the hours of sorting, I made subfolders. Gimpa’s name on the first one followed by his wife and his kids. Under those children are their children ad infinitum. Some great-grandchildren only have twenty or so photos in their folder. (Yes, we need more pictures.) I was thinking yesterday that my extended family will enjoy seeing these pictures sent from far, far away of kids and adults they will never know…all Gimpa’s family too.

Lessa has five children plus their families in JPG subfolders. Three of those kids will be having breakfast with her today brought by their mom and dad. Or brunch. She’s beyond nervous.

I remember being like that when my mother would come to visit. I never thought to be grateful that she called in advance. She’d call, we would all, and there were a lot of us jammed in to a suburban tract house so we could pay the rent, scurry around hiding the mess and doing a lightening dust. The house would be vaguely passable, but the dirty dishes would be in the oven, the laundry in the bathtub behind the shower curtain, and the world as we knew it crushed inside cupboards.

We did brunch out yesterday….a senior meal is vastly smaller and cheaper. I had a senior meal. While we were ingesting carbs and fat, her vee-hickle was having it’s cracked windshield repaired. The guy not only stopped the crack, but he warranteed the repair. We liked that…..all in the time it took us to eat a senior breakfast.

Then I went back to loading jpgs in folders, with a cut finger, which is better than putting dishes in the oven.