Shedir is finished and awaiting transport. It was a great knit - fun and interesting but not too challenging - and showed me where I seriously need to improve my knitting skills.
My stitches are grossly uneven and before I attempt some fancy socks I've had my eye on I'm going to need more practice. Of course, knitting would be the way to practice so I should just knit them, right? Right.
Anyway, one attempt at comfort taken care of.
Unfortunately, the other can only be satisfied by prayers at this point. That girl I mentioned passed away yesterday. I never met her and don't remember speaking to her mother, but they were both very dear to my knitting circle and their pain is heavy on my heart today.
So, what to do? The only thing I can. Make you laugh.
What follows is how I spent last Friday evening. I'm not intentionally mocking my Mom here - we were all getting the hang of computers at some point. I did tell both my parents - when they were firing questions at me and not letting me finish a sentence - that they are worse than cardiologists, but that is because ... I love them? Anyway, enjoy:
Mom: So how do I send the meeting minutes to the group?
Me: You click here where it says compose email.
Mom: And then what?
Me: The email window opens. *demonstrates*
Mom: OK. *gets pen and paper and begins to write* Click ... what did I click?
Me: Compose email.
Mom: *writes* Compose email. Then what?
Me: Then you write the email.
Mom: I type the minutes in it?
Me: Why? Put them in a word doc and attach them.
Mom: How do I do that?
Me: Do what?
Mom: Put the minutes in word .... what?
Me: Word document?
Mom: Yes. *writes* word document
Me: Go to start and then programs and .. oh, hold on. *pins Word to Start Menu* Just click on start and Word is right here.
Mom: Right where?
Me: Here, Mom, where it says word.
Mom: *writes* Start.
Me: So you type something here *keysmashes* and save it and call it whatever you want
Mom: What should I call it?
Me: o_O I don't know, Mom, they're your meeting minutes.
Dad: How about "minutes" and the date *bites lips to keep from laughing*
Mom: OK. How do I save it?
Me: Click the save button.
Mom: Where is that?
Me: Didn't you take a class on Word?
Mom: Yes, but it was useless.
Me: You don't even know how to save?
Mom: I can't help it. I've never done this before.
Me: OK, the save button is right here at the top.
Mom: What does it look like? *squints*
Me: Like a floppy.
Mom: I thought you said no one uses floppies anymore.
Me: You don't even want to get into that. Trust me. Now, you write your minutes and you save it.
Mom: OK. *writes* Save.
Me: And in your email you address it and put a subject and attach the file.
Mom: How do I ....
Me: You type in the address here, type in a subject here.
Mom: What should the subject be?
Me: Mom? Are you doing this to me on purpose?
Mom: *innocently* Doing what?
Dad: *turns face away to hide laughter*
Me: OK, call it whatever you want. In this case, "meeting minutes" would be good.
Dad: And the date.
Me: And the date.
Mom: OK. *writes* Subject with date.
Me: And click here where it says attach file and browse to it.
Mom: *doesn't even bother to verbalize*
When it opens this window, it will default to documents. Unless you
saved it somewhere else it will be there. *sees that we're logged into
Dad's account and knows that issue will come up where minutes were
saved in one account and she'll be in the other. Decide to just not
Mom: OK. *writes*
Me: Click on the file and press the open button.
Mom: But what if I don't need to open it?
Me: It won't. It's just a button. It says open, but it won't.
Me: Bill Gates, Mom. Just let it go.
Dad:*leaves the room to laugh in private*
Mom: OK, so we attached the file.
Me: Yes, and it will appear here. Then just write the email and send it.
Mom: Why do I have to write anything?
Me: Just something like, "Here's the minutes from the last meeting."
Me: Because it's nice.
Mom: *rolls eyes*
Me: Because sometimes emails that have attachments but no text are blocked because they might be viruses.
Mom: Oh, OK. So, what do I write?
Me: *face in hands* It doesn't matter, Mom. Write whatever you want.
Cat: *circles my ankles supportively*
Me: So, you think you got it?
Mom: I'll call you.
Me: I get $100 an hour.
Me: Or dinner.
Mom: I can afford that.