Ethel and the Computer Age

"ETHEL! Do you know how long you've been on that computer? Do you know what time it is? What are you doin' on there, anyway? How much longer are you gonna be on there? When's supper gonna be done?" Fred rained questions on me so fast I didn't have time to think. I finished typing my reply to Weloveholidays' fun post about lost Orlando theme park rides, while mumbling something unintelligible, then looked up to find him glaring at me with even more. "Don't you know you can't stay on there all day? I've been home for half an hour, and you haven't said two words to me! Don't you remember what I said about getting hooked on that thing? What are we havin' for supper?

I'm still working on "Do you know how long you've been on that computer?"

Oh alright, calm down, I tell him. Supper's done. All I've gotta do is mash those potatoes and put the rolls in the oven and...maybe wait for the meatloaf to...um...um...Hmmmm...did I put that meatloaf in the oven?

Whew! Yes, thank goodness I did, and, yes, it's done.

It's all his fault, actually. When home computers first became affordable, FRED was the one who wanted to buy one. He pawned it off as a Christmas present for the kids, and sure, they loved it, but he wasn't fooling any of us: that computer was his new toy. It was huge, bulky, and ugly, and claimed its' hideous place of honor on an equally bulky and ugly put-it-together-yourself computer desk. He tried his very best to interest me in the thing, but I wasn't buying. "You can store your recipes in it," he enticed me. I preferred my recipes right where they were, thank you very much, on 3" by 5" cards in my clear Plexiglass file holder that I've had since 10th grade Home Ec. "Look, you can read books and magazines on it," he tried. No thanks, I told him, I like holding a book in my hands, feeling its' heft, fingering the fine white paper as I turn the pages, and using my Picasso self portrait bookmark. He thought he had found the clincher when he demonstrated computer Monopoly and Scrabble. How repulsive, I thought. Not to feel the smooth wooden Scrabble tiles in my fingers, not to hear their gentle click as I placed them on the board? And Monopoly: I LIKED the feel of the money, as I counted out each player's allotment; I LIKED sorting and shuffling the Chance and Community Chest cards and I LIKED shaking the black dotted dice out onto the board; I LIKED lining up my deeds by color; I LIKED arranging the plastic houses and hotels and moving my favorite piece, Paul Revere (aka - the horse and rider,) step by step across the board. No thanks, I have no interest whatsoever in your computer.

It took a few years, but eventually he found my Achilles Heel: Ebay.

In the beginning, he was just thrilled I was showing an interest in his old computer. He didn't even mind that I was spending money. Hallmark Christmas ornaments, classic tv and movie memorabilia, books, toys, that Marjolein Bastin lamp I had wanted years ago and couldn't afford! He began to worry a bit when the mailman suggested he install a package chute directly from the mailbox to the front door. Maybe I should broaden my internet horizons, he proposed. No, thank you, I said, I liked Ebay. I bid on and won two different sizes of Robot B9, from Lost in Space, and a set of blueprints for the Jupiter II. "You're spending too much money," he said. "You're addicted to Ebay." I knew he was right, but I couldn't stop; Ebay was my heroin. He finally had to block me from his email and PayPal accounts. Ha! Like that could stop me! I knew my way around Ebay better than he did by that time, and I set up my own email and PayPal accounts. I discovered a whole world of corn collectibles, and won a corn telephone, corn soap dispensers, a ridiculous comic book called Captain Cornelius, and a one cent DVD, Cornman - American Vegetable Hero.


I couldn't believe I got it for one cent. Fred could.


Eventually, Ebay wasn't enough for me, and I needed a stronger drug. I found it in Tripadvisor. Fred was pleased with that: nothing for sale, just hours of reading, learning, and advice. I wrote a few reviews from our most recent Disneyworld trip, and lurked about on the Orlando forum until I had familiarized myself with the format. Gradually, I began answering requests for information about Disneyworld, posting my own topics, and joining in the friendly banter tossed about by the regulars. I quickly developed new friendships; good, albeit virtual, friendships: partypa, Nemmis, amanx, cazEssex, Partyof4BeavertonOR, moose54, kat228, JulieDerek, JamboJack...the list goes on and on. Friends from places I'd heretofore known only as dots on a map: BrazilFamily4, noodleWales, NovaScotiaCapers; friends in Scotland, Ireland, Cancun, England, Denmark. Mutter38 has become a most trusted confidante, as has TheMacs5plusone and jsmla. Shirley50 and her partner, Salfordlad, are in my thoughts often these days, as they battle Shirley's breast cancer. Ladyemm provides me invaluable aid and friendship, and she and kat_cubs_fan are just two of several Destination Experts for the Orlando forum.

Ahhh...Destination Expert. An enviable title, but not one for me. Poor souls, the Destination Experts are really not supposed to join in on the fun when conversation turns off-topic; they are there for expert info, on-spot answers, and friendly welcomes. Members like myself, who know a lot about Disneyworld, but very little about Orlando, and Chinners, who...well...who is Chinners, will never be Destination Experts. Now, if they were to invite me to become a Destination Expert for Pleasant View, Tennessee, that would be a different matter. Oh yeah, I could handle that. Throw those questions at me:

Question #1: What is the best hotel in Pleasant View?
Answer: There's not one.
Question #2: What is the best place for picking up some groceries in Pleasant View?
Answer: Well, there's only the one grocery store, HG Hills.
Question #3: Where can I go for a fine dining experience in Pleasant View?
Answer: You can't.
Question #4: Where can I find a mall in Pleasant View?
Answer: See answer to question #3.
Question #5: Where can I shop for clothes at a reasonable price?
Answer: The Dollar General Market.
Question #6: Where will I find a church for Sunday morning services?
Answer: Just look on any corner.
Question #7: What can I do for fun In Pleasant View?

Here's where my expertise would come in handy.

Answer: Well, you can go down to Van's Hardware Store and hang out with the locals. Van'll have you cracking up at his corny jokes. (Customer: I don't know what to git my wife for her birthday; she never wore the dress I gave 'er last year. Van: My wife never used what I gave her, either. Customer: What'd you give 'er? Van: Her own grave site.) You can go square dancing at BJs on Saturday nights, and sometimes the Coach House has live bluegrass music. You can drive down Church Street and wave at Jack Moore, who, unless it's unseasonably hot or cold, will be sitting out on his front porch, just smiling and waving at the passing traffic. You can watch the kids playing baseball at Balthrop Park, and there'll be free outdoor G rated movies after sunset once a month, spring and summer. Take a ride up one floor in the town's only elevator, at Regents Medical Center. If you're awake early enough, you might catch groups of deer here and there, and, come sunset, you can watch the lightning bugs emerge from the grasses, illuminating the darkness with their nightly courtship dances. And after the luminous little bugs have found their mates and retired for the night, spread a blanket in the grass and watch for falling stars. With all the clear air and lack of city lights, you'll see a'plenty. Summer and fall afternoons and nights, you can listen to the high school band practicing, and Friday nights in the fall, you can go up to the school and watch the football games. Join some locals and walk the neighborhoods at twilight. Drop in at the I24 Exchange office and say 'hey' to editor Kerry McCarver...who is also the mayor. Start out early for the big city-wide yard sale in April. In July, join practically the entire community at the annual volunteer fire department's parade and picnic, and on the fourth, take a folding chair downtown and watch the fireworks. Come Halloween, grab a costume and pumpkin-shaped bucket and head on over to West Ridge, where most of the county converges for Trick or Treats.

And, if all that's not enough to keep you entertained, you just hightail it on over to my house. I've got a computer.

Hi, My name is Ethel Mae and I'm a Disneyholic...

Yep, that's right...a Disneyholic. I guess I've been in denial for a long time. Others tried to warn me, tried something akin to an intervention. Fred, in particular, has tried valiantly to lure me away from the evil influence defined by Mickey and Company. "Why don't we go somewhere else this year? Didn't you like it when we went to New Hampshire?" he tempts. I know he loved it, and sure, it was great, but...what's New Hampshire got on Disneyworld? Yes, yes, yes, I know, it's got wide open spaces and fresh air and mountains and wildflowers and quaint little cafes and hiking trails and tons of snow and skiing ops much of the year. But does it have Spaceship Earth and Cinderella's Castle? Does it have happy, upbeat, familiar tunes playing subtly in the background? Does it have the Seven Dwarfs and Winnie the Pooh cheerfully signing autographs and hugging wide-eyed toddlers and posing for photo after photo after photo...? Does it have bright helium balloons with ears, or Mickey ice cream bars, or the Bippity Boppity Boutique? Does the state have anything to compare with Soarin', or Pirates of the Caribbean, or the Hall of Presidents? Oh no, don't EVEN try playing the wildlife card. Yeah, I was there; I saw the bears, including the one that ambled out in the road right in front of us in downtown Franconia. But remember when we saw Baloo in the Magic Kingdom, huh? WHAT other wildlife? Sure, I remember the little chipmunk that scurried through the lobby of the hotel; what about the ducks, egrets, and squirrels that have free reign over all of Disneyworld? Huh, what about that? And the safari, at Disney's Animal Kingdom, where the vehicles often have to wait several minutes for giraffes and ostriches to move off the trail? Don't tell me New Hampshire can beat that.

It was a fine effort, but...I'm an addict.

Tripadvisor.com's Orlando forum is a great place for addicts like me. Or maybe not; it actually just adds to the fixation. Newbies and oldies alike, seeking advice about Disney tickets, Disney hotels, the best time to go, the best restaurants, how much money to take,(A LOT,) and whether or not to utilize the Magical Express. Friendly banter and chit-chat among the regulars. Rumors and instant confirmation or denial of those rumors, and up-to-the-minute breaking Disney news. Trip reports are great ways to get current information and are sometimes hilarious reads, as is the case with the trip reports of CazEssex and JSMLA. I can spend absolutely HOURS upon HOURS on Tripadvisor.

Wow. Did I really say HOURS upon HOURS?

Addiction is a powerful thing.

It's not all my fault, you know. I mean, come on, I was a Mouseketeers kid. Brought up on the Mickey Mouse Club and The Wonderful World of Color on Sunday nights. Remember Talent Round Up Day, Spin and Marty, and Corky and White Shadow? And Tinkerbell flitting over the castle, sprinkling pixie dust over the tallest turret, before the grand old man himself, 'your host,' Walt Disney, introduced 'tonight's episode?' For those of us who are...um...mature enough...to remember the 50's and 60's, those are good times we'll never forget. After all, we had only three tv channels from which to choose. Most of America watched Timmy and Lassie, then turned the channel and watched Walt Disney. As Walter Cronkite said, "...and that's the way it [was]."

I admit it: I go to Disneyworld every year. My Christmas tree is full of Disney ornaments. There are framed movie posters of Disney films hanging in the playroom upstairs, and a virtual library of Disney DVDs and VHS tapes, INCLUDING the original Little Mermaid, the one with the controversial cover that was quickly replaced. I buy the Birnbaum's Guide to Disneyworld at least every other year, even though I could probably write most of it myself, and read it cover to cover; it has a permanent place of honor on the coffee table, right beside the TV Guide and the Disneyworld coasters set. I order the Disney Vacation Planning kit every year, giggle when I pull it out of the mailbox, and watch it excitedly. I'm like a kid again when I receive my Magical Express and reservations confirmation packets. "Disney mail!" I sing, while waving the envelopes in Fred's face.

Fred is usually not impressed.

We go to most of the Disney movies, and we're anxiously awaiting next week's 'Earth.' Looks fantastic. Know what we did today? Went to see 'Hannah Montana: the Movie.' No, really, we did. A good friend, mother of two, one of which is a six-year old girl (prime age for Hannahtizing,) had posted on her Facebook wall a 'two thumbs up' for the Hannah movie. When I read that, I thought to myself, "Oh, you poor thing; you REALLY need some adult company." But...it's good! Truly, it is. This was my first experience with anything Hannah. I mean, of course, I knew the basic premise, and I'd have to have been in a coma or something to have missed the posters, dolls, costumes, and blond wigs in Toys R Us, but I had never seen an episode of the show, nor even heard any of her music. No, the movie's not gonna make me rush out to Walmart to get her latest CD, but it's still a cute little, no harm done film.

And the very best part? The beginning, the Disney films opening: familiar music begins, we see a star, a ship in the distance, a steam train crossing a winding river; the music builds, becoming recognizable as 'Wish Upon a Star;' the river widens, leading to Sleeping Beauty's castle, and a twinkling arc rains upon it, as the song reaches its' crescendo.

That's where I got misty-eyed and my hand went to my heart.




Hi, I'm Ethel Mae, and I'm a Disneyholic. Anybody else care to confess?

Spring at Last!

******WARNING!!! TWILIGHT SPOILERS ALERT!!!!******

I got off work two hours early this morning. It's becoming a more common occurrence: decreasing mail volume means that we occasionally have very little (or, once in a blue moon, NOTHING) to do when we get to work at 9:15PM. Something can usually be scrounged up, or we may do a bit of housekeeping. I have even resorted to going into the ladies room and cleaning the sinks, mirrors, and chrome til they shine. But, without the customary frantic hurry-up-we-need-this-mail-on-the-machine-NOW tumult, it turns into a nice, slow, relaxed night. It never fails to amaze me that we can have nights like last night, and then two nights later, we will be absolutely SWAMPED with mail.

But last night was SLOOOWWWW. So slow that I'm sure I could have left before midnight. Not that I wouldn't have loved that; I would just be sorry, come my Disneyworld vacation time in November, that I had used up my annual leave in dribs and drabs throughout the year. But two measly li'l ole hours wasn't gonna hurt...

One of the perks of having NO MAIL was that our supervisor gave us a very rare extended break. I was deeply immersed in New Moon, the second book of the Twilight series, and read anxiously through that long break. *****SPOILER ALERT!***** Aha! I knew it: there are werewolves at the reservation, and poor Jacob is one of them. This book has captured my interest much more than the first, and I had a hard time closing it and going back out onto the workroom floor when a bit of mail finally came in. Right in the middle of Bella's anguish over Jacob's sudden change of attitude and evasiveness. Oh, come ON, Bella! Jacob told you about the werewolf legend last year, remember? Figure it out, girl! When the clock hit 3AM, I was outta there, and my thoughts were on THE BOOK as I sped home. My mind flitted between werewolves and vampires and the seemingly doomed Bella, to resentment over the new USELESS early retirement offer made by the Postmaster General. It's exactly the same offer that was made late last year, the offer that was intended to entice 150,000 employees to leave; 9,000 actually left. I was rather surprised that even THAT many took the offer: it was basically nothing more than an offer to QUIT. No cash incentive whatsoever. Now the current offer, we had heard rumors, would include a cash incentive equal to a year's salary for every ten years on the job, if you met the age and years criteria, of course. I did meet them, and I had allowed myself to dream about the $100,000 plus I would be able to bank, while sleeping AT NIGHT and going back to a normal social life. I should have followed my more cautious instinct and never have allowed that dream; now I just get upset when I contemplate what might have been.

And so I spent my 45-minute drive totally absorbed in thoughts of vampires, werewolves, and disgruntled postal employees. The night was black, few stars shown, the half moon fixed in a pale yellow halo. I drove down my dark street, the black punctuated here and there with the waning glow from solar landscape lights and the occasional porch lantern. The car automatically made the turn into the driveway, and there they were: five...six...seven...no, eight deer, suddenly frozen, staring at my car. Two were very young, probably in their second year. I stopped, waiting to see what they would do, hoping they would just go back to whatever it was they had been doing before I disturbed them, but they didn't. They didn't bolt, though; they merely sauntered out of our yard, across the driveway, and into the woods at the back of our neighbor's place. Slowly, guarded. I marveled at their grace and beauty: it was only April, but their hair had already converted to summer brown, the warm reddish color that is their best. I waited until the last one had disappeared into the thick brush, then slowly coasted down toward the garage. A bunny hopped out of a shrub, then another. They paused, and I could see their little noses working before they cut in front of me and made their way into the back yard. I hit the passenger side button and the glass obediently slide down into its' slot inside the door. The birds were just beginning to stir, their spring melody letting the rest of the world know that morning was just moments away. I breathed in the fresh air and the smell of new grass and some sweet flower I couldn't identify. Ah spring! All thoughts of vampires, disgruntled postal employees, and other demons were driven instantly from my mind as I inhaled the sights and sounds of spring. The excessively long, cold winter was finally behind us, and I suddenly felt young, energetic, and at one with the incredibly beautiful Earth. Today, I vowed, would not be spent sleeping all this away; today, I would climb into bed with Fred for a few minutes before his alarm went off, I would soak in a long deep hot bath, I would clean the kitchen til it sparkled, I would dust and Windex and open the doors to let the fresh air in. I would keep the vampires at bay by doing some more wedding planning, and I would refuse to give into my distress about having to work nights at the post office for another eight years.

What a wonderful world...

Monday Nights

I love Monday nights. That's an odd declaration, you might think. Not so, when you consider it's my night off, and I have the tv AND REMOTE all to myself, and the silence and nocturnal tranquility of a country house with only one conscious occupant - me. Well, let me amend that - me, and Spooky. Spooky is purring at the moment, curled on my chest, and I am having a most difficult time seeing the computer over her oblivious form. We play this little game every Monday night: as soon as she hears me settling myself into the recliner with the laptop, she emerges from Ariel's old bedroom, where she's spent most of the day shedding her black hair all over the bedspread; she jumps up on me; I tolerate her for a few minutes, then put her beside me; she turns and climbs back up; I put her down; and so on and so on. All night long.

I begin my Monday night watching The Andy Griffith Show on TVLand. Four back to back episodes. Tonight I see a couple of my favorites: The Cow Thief and Andy and Opie - Bachelors. I love the scene in the Bachelors episode where Peggy McMillan and Andy sit out on the front porch steps and sing Down in the Valley in duet. Andy on guitar, Peggy in her polka dot sleeveless dress, swaying back and forth, hands clasped on her knees, their perfect simple harmony, and Opie looking on in innocent admiration. I stop my typing and put my glasses on for that scene. No offense to Miss Crump, but Andy, you should have married Peggy. At 10:00, I switch the channel to local 13, and watch another hour of Andy. Agh...they've switched to the color ones; the Warren season; the first season after Barney left. I keep them on in the background anyway, while I answer emails, banter and hand out advice on Tripadvisor.com, check in on Facebook, search for wedding STUFF, and do a little blogging. Next up: I Love Lucy. One full hour. Oh good, they're in Europe! Lucy Meets the Queen (good one!) and The Fox Hunt. Next Monday should be Lucy's Italian Movie and The Bicycle Trip. Great.

After Lucy, I turn the TV off, so I can concentrate fully on my blog. I write for a while, edit, edit some more, get stuck, and check in on Tripadvisor, to see if Chinners has posted any more absurd comments on his sweaty armpits query. Chinners is a nut. There are no sounds from the outside world - Pleasant View shuts completely down before 10:00, and we've heard sirens only twice in our fourteen years here. The house is so quiet: only the tick, tick, ticking of my many clocks and their BONGS, chimes, and cuckoos every half hour; the whirrrrr of the laptop; the occasional indignant meow from Spooky, as I remove her from my person; and the weird sporadic ArArARRRR from the entertainment center. I have no idea what it is; Fred theorizes that it may be the hard drive in the DVD recorder.

It won't be long now til Fred's stirring and then he'll be off to work. I go to the bathroom and take the dreaded Allergy Pill; I've been rubbing my poor watering eyes all night, trying to delay the Pill as long as possible. I know it'll mean I'll sleep all day, but it's either that or suffer. Surely allergy season will be over any day now. I'll finish this, check on Chinners once more, and settle back with the second Twilight book. A dear friend loaned me the entire series last week, plus the DVD movie and the soundtrack. I must admit, the first book didn't impress me as Harry Potter's first did, but the love story IS captivating. Quite predictable, though; maybe the endings in the subsequent books will be a little more difficult to foresee.

I'll be asleep before the sun rises.