Notes from Alexis: Life is funny with dogs, computers, deer, and fighting over grape juice.
9-29-89
Dearest Lex and significant others (little joke there),
I love the postcards! The best thing is, they are appropriate for both men and women. They have been sending me information and doing major favors for me, and I need to show my appreciation without having to write letters. Your cards are perfect. Thank you.
DAWG UPDATE: I may have told you about the teenage boy who was showing the new boy in the neighborhood. As they rode by on their bikes, he pointed to our house and said, “A man-eating dog lives there.” Hanzi and I were in the house, and the boy didn’t crack a smile or let on by his tone that he was teasing. What a kid! (Hanzi was a 10 lb poodle)
Then on another day a couple of the boys went by on their bikes and the younger one said, “I was going in their yard, but their guard dog wouldn’t let me.” so there you have it! A boy-eating guard dog!
However, the mother doe in the yard didn’t take any sass from Hanzi. She stamped her foot, lowered her head and charged. Since then he keeps a respectful distance, and she goes off and leaves her fawn whenever she gets tired of the babe.
I know just how you feel about the new job. New jobs are stressful at the best of times, but having to learn a new computer and new software, is quite a bit much. At least when I did it, I was able to do it on my own clock without any pressure.
I have a neat computer story for you. R., one of Don’s cousins, gave me a genealogical program her son had found in the Idaho State Library. Seems they have freebie programs you can copy, so she sent it for me to try. The thing is, you first have to load Basic.” Now all of the programs you are using, and the ones I use have the machine language already built in, so we don’t have to bother.
Everything went swimmingly, and I was able to figure out the program and decided it wouldn’t do for me, so I decided to quit. I couldn’t get out of Basic. I typed quit, end, stop, Go to Hell! Nothing! I couldn’t get out! Ah ha I thought, I’ll look in the manual. If all else fails, read the instructions, right? Wrong. Nary a word.
So finally I called Comptalk where I bought the computer, and asked how you get out of Basic. There was this longish pause, then he said, “Have you tried a 22 pistol?” That really cracked me up. He didn’t know how either, and had to ask someone. I’ve forgotten what the word was, but believe me I wrote it down. I loved his sense of humor because I certainly was that close to doing bodily harm to the critter.
I get so involved with the Solo Press publishing, other things slide. It begins to look like the Tuttle book (genealogy) will end up being three volumes and maybe more. When I first started it, I assumed it would be four volumes, then I revised my estimate down to two volumes. When it dawned on me how big this project might be, I panicked.
At that point, I realized I had been pushing too hard and needed to back off and get a new perspective. I started working on my family genealogy, and that has turned into a project nearly as large as the Tuttles. Now I’m back to thinking it is all good clean fun.
Doing my family history, puts me in the writing mode as opposed to just editing. The history of those folks is so rich, that I have come up with some real nuggets. I believe; all us prospectors are alike. I once had a friend who went uranium hunting. He found some too, and this in the 50’s when uranium was the big thing. What he found is, what I’ve found, – it’s one thing to strike pay dirt and quite another to make any money from it. He certainly didn’t, and I have this awful feeling I won’t either. Still, I’m not absolutely certain that money is the real motive. Sanity counts too. Eh?
Well, P. actually got to Indianapolis without incident. I had to rain on J.’s parade. He seemed to think she was gone and out of his life forever, but “Looney Tunes people” never resolve anything. They just run around in circles. They will get tired or her back there, and she will be back out here one of these days. I say two weeks, but J. thinks longer. He hopes longer. “Forever” is not long enough to suit him.
HERE IS ONEUPMANSHIP TIME: We had a nice crop of grapes. The white ones, Niagra, came on and ripened first, so we ate them along. Then all of a sudden the Concords were ripe. Dad was going hunting in a few days, and it broke his heart to think I might eat them all by myself. Well, me and Hanzi. So I juiced them.
What a shock. All my life I have had grape juice that was strained and was clear as wine. I didn’t strain mine. Talk about heaven! The juice was thick and totally different from the taste when eating the grapes. We divided the juice equally and watched each other with gimlet eyes, for fear one of us might cheat. We figured the fact we didn’t cheat proved something. Lord knows I was tempted.
Well, I have to stop and do something, even if it’s wrong!
Love,
Mom
SoloPress II 