iCloudy with a Chance of iCranky

I’m tired today and am feeling decidedly less-than-inspired. Actually, I suppose the truth is that I’m feeling decidedly cranky. 

For some reason, we’ve been staying up later and later this week and I think I snagged – maybe – 5-1/2 hours of sleep last night.  That’s practically pulling an all-nighter – and I can’t do all-nighters anymore. 

Part of the problem was that Apple released their new iOS 5 and iCloud thingies yesterday and I wanted to be in on the cutting edge of technology for once.  So last night around 9 o’clock I started uploading or downloading all sorts of things that had cutesy names beginning with small “i’s” and clicking on things I had no business clicking on. Did I know what I was doing?  Nope.  I did not.

So as of this very moment, I have no idea if my iPhone is iClouded or not.  I don’t even know what that means except that supposedly I don’t have to plug my phone into my computer any longer to back up the stuff on my phone.  Where that information goes, I have no clue.  Will someone now be able to snatch my Uncle Lou’s address out of thin air?  Will all the provocative texts that I’ve sent my husband be accessible to someone by accident?  It’s a frightening thought.

Oh, and if you must know, the most provocative text I’ve sent Vince is: “T O Y,” which means “thinking of you.” 

Yeah, hackers just got bored, too.

By the time we finally decided to get some sleep last night, it was technically this morning.  But my iPhone was still plugged into my computer and iTunes was still updating something or other and warned me NOT to unplug the phone.  Another three hours were needed to finish the task.  Apparently I don’t update my phone enough.

Anyway, my immediate concern was how I was going to manage to wake up on time.  I use my phone as my alarm clock and I was worried I wouldn’t hear my alarm a few hours hence since it would be in the spare bedroom hooked up to my computer. 

Being half deaf means I usually sleep on my good ear so all sound is blocked and I sleep completely unaware of things like rumbling freight trains and meowing cats and nuclear bomb explosions.  So I can hardly be expected to hear the ringing alarm clock sitting on the bedside table a foot away from my head, can I? 

But Vince is very good at nudging me to get me to wake up and turn off the alarm.  I don’t like being nudged.  Of course, Vince probably doesn’t like listening to ringing alarms.

So when Vince suggested he’d nudge me awake when he heard my alarm go off in the other room, I reluctantly agreed – but only because I didn’t think I had another choice.  We couldn’t use the alarm on Vince’s phone as an alternative since it was plugged into his computer downstairs going through the same machinations as mine.

So all night I kept waking up because I was afraid of oversleeping.  Grr.  I did manage to drop off into a sound sleep, but, naturally, it was a scant 20 minutes before Vince poked me and said he heard my alarm.

Poking, in this case, is the same as nudging and I don’t like being poked either.  But I grudgingly got up, fumbled around for my glasses and then stumbled out of the room to shut off the alarm. 

In my groggy state, I forgot that the phone was still tethered to the computer – so as I grabbed it from the desk, it ricocheted and landed back on the desk, but my hand kept going – and I smacked myself in the nose. 

Now I was mad at my phone.  And it was still buzzing and ringing. 

I quickly disengaged it from the computer and did the swiping thing to get to the menu where I could shut it off.  Except that that didn’t work.  Apparently with this new upgrade, you have to answer all sorts of questions before you can use the phone. 

I kept trying to hit Cancel so I could do the set-up later, but it either wouldn’t let me – or I wasn’t awake enough to figure out how to do it.

Under normal circumstances, entering passwords and answering questions wouldn’t be a big deal.  These weren’t, however, normal circumstances and I was getting more irritated because the buzzing and ringing sounds were so incredibly grating.  How I am ever able to sleep through that noise is a mystery, deaf ear notwithstanding.

By this point, I was afraid I was going to wake up the entire neighborhood if my alarm didn’t shut off, so I tried smothering my phone underneath a pillow while I struggled to key in the answers to the questions.  Like that helped.

So then I tried holding my thumb over the speaker, but that barely muffled the sound.

Meanwhile, I’m frantically tapping answers and filling in the blanks.  On the fly I even had to set up some new email account. For what reason, I have no idea.  I have more than enough email accounts.  And I’m not even exactly sure what name I selected – although I clearly recall it telling me I couldn’t change it once I picked something.  That can’t be good. 

Finally, I answered enough questions that the phone seemed to be satisfied and it allowed me to get to the normal screen where I could turn off the infernal alarm.

Obviously, this was not a peaceful, refreshing way to wake up in the morning after only maybe 5-1/2 hours of sleep.

I was proud of myself, though.  Because when I went back into our room where Vince was soundly sleeping and blissfully unaware of my stressful wake-up call, I didn’t nudge, prod, poke or kick him awake.  Nice of me, huh?

And the next time my phone needs some major upgrade, I think I’ll just toss it in the garbage and buy a new one with the upgrade already installed.  This technological stuff is for the iBirds.

The Great Road Trip of 2011

I’m leaving tonight to begin The Great Road Trip of 2011. Well, okay, that may be a tad overblown, since it’s not like I’m driving cross country and plan to stop in each of the 48 contiguous states to check out the biggest ball of twine or the Jimmy Carter Peanut Statue or something.

Instead, I am driving to Cape Cod with my parents so they can spend the summer there. We have several stops to make and I’ll be driving a little over 900 miles, though, so it’s not like it’s a quick little jaunt. One I’ve (safely) deposited my folks at their cottage, I will fly from Boston back to good ol’ Central Ohio.

Fortunately, I’ve reached a level of maturity (I think) where I don’t require the stereo to be loud enough to break the sound barrier. Nor do I need the internal vehicle temperature to be sub-zero. Because, believe me, neither of those scenarios will be tolerated. A little music and A/C might be nice, but I suppose the eight to 10 hours of radio silence will be a good time to reflect on my life and try to figure out why I’m not stinkin’ rich so I could afford to hire a real chauffeur to drive us to the northeast. And perhaps the sauna-like conditions will provide some health benefits, too. Like maybe I can sweat off a couple of pounds. Hydration is overrated.

Our destination is known in the family as simply “the cottage.” It was built by my grandparents back in the ‘50s and has since been passed on to my parents. I’ve been there nearly every year of my life. In fact, there have only been maybe two or three times I can recall not making the trip.

I was driven there as a kid with my parents back in the day when my siblings and I had Buckeye Market paper grocery bags that served as our “luggage.” I’ve also driven up there with my parents when I was old enough to ditch the paper bag and could afford to buy my very own suitcase. As a young adult, I drove up there with my sister and with friends at various times for a week of sun and fun. And, most astonishingly, I’ve even driven up there all by myself. And I can proudly say that I didn’t end up in Nova Scotia.

So, after all that, driving it now shouldn’t be a big deal – right? Uh, no, the correct answer I'm looking for here is "wrong."

It is a big deal because, first of all, it has been quite some time since I’ve actually driven there. Personally, I find the skies much friendlier, particularly when someone else besides me is the pilot and/or the navigator.

I mean, you know about my directionally challenged affliction, don’t you? If you don’t, read here. Or, heck, just take my word for it – I nearly get lost trying to find my way out of my own neighborhood. And the older I get, the worse it gets.

Plus, it’s not like we’re going from Point A to Point B. First I have to drive to my parents’ place in Alliance. This is about the only leg of the trip that doesn’t concern me. Been driving this route since I was barely old enough to vote (and that is a LOT of Presidents ago). I don’t even need Mapquest or Gladys Garmin to help me along on this portion of the journey, thank goodness.

However, we’ll leave Alliance and head to Connecticut to visit relatives. We plan to spend the night there before driving to New York State to visit my brother and his wife for a couple days. After that, we’ll make a detour in Massachusetts to visit an uncle before finally ending up at “the cottage.”

I’m not even sure Mapquest will allow that many stops. If they do, I imagine the detailed instructions would be the size of the…well, I was going to say “phone book” – but it has been a while since I’ve actually seen a phone book – so I don’t know how thick they are anymore.

Nevertheless, I’ve been preparing for the trip by studying maps. I’ve Googled and Mapquested and GPS-ed the trip to death. This, in hindsight, may have been a mistake. Why? Because I’ve been given a multitude of options and routes. And now I’m even more confused.

And in the end, we will take the route that my dad has been taking for, oh, about 40 years now. Do I take comfort in this? Of course not. I am not a driver who can afford to take things for granted. Like I never assume that my co-pilot is actually paying attention to road signs. The worst thing I could hear is, “Oh. I think we were supposed to take that exit we just passed.”

No...on second thought, I take that back. The worst thing I could hear is, “Uh. I think we’re lost. Do you know where we are?”

My universal response in that situation? “Are. You. KIDDING. Me??

I’m not one of those people blessed with internal compasses who can reconfigure the route in their heads. Consequently, I’ve driven many a country road not knowing where the heck I was going or how to get back to where I started.

So I need a piece of paper in my hand and a Route or Exit number in my head so I’m comforted. At this point, I’d even be okay with Gladys Garmin telling me she is recalculating for the gajillionth time.

But I think I’m ready. I’ve shared all our destinations with Gladys. And I’ve printed out what Mapquest has to offer (And, yes, the printout is indeed the size of a small phone book.) I’ve also entered the route into my iPhone GPS. (Although this is usually a mistake as Gladys and iPhone rarely agree.) And, finally, I’ll have to rely on Dad to keep an eye on the road – and the exits.

So I’m looking forward to spending some quality time with my parents. And who knows? Maybe I’ll get so confident in my navigational skills that I’ll schedule another trip sometime soon to see that big ball of twine – or the Jimmy Carter Peanut Statue.

Or…maybe not. Probably I’ll still prefer to fly the friendly skies.

Angry Birds

A couple months ago we were at a football-watching party with some friends. I’d just gotten my new iPhone 4 and was happily showing it off when one of my friends asked me if I’d downloaded the “Angry Birds” app.

Have you heard of this game? I hadn’t.

She said it was so much fun and I just had to download it. So I did. And there the game sat on my iPhone 4 for over three months while I was busy with things like holidays and family and friends and kittens. Oh, and bowling and euchre and snow and ice. Lots of snow and ice.

About a week ago, I wasn’t feeling so hot, so I was lounging on the couch in my PJs. Sadly, I had finished my last library book and had absolutely nothing to read, so I started scrolling through my iPhone to see what might capture my interest. I stumbled across the Angry Birds App, so I opened it to see what it was all about.

And now? I’m hooked on the damn thing. (Thanks, Kara.) And it’s so silly!

See, there are a bunch of birds. Well, bird heads, actually. None of the birds have bodies, which is a little strange. But it’s a game, so you just go with it.

What you do is shoot the bird heads from a slingshot at a bunch of green pigs that are hiding in various structures made out of wood or ice or stone. Or, actually, you shoot the bird heads at the pig heads. (Maybe it was cost-prohibitive to build little bodies onto the heads? Who knows?)

Anyway, I’m not really sure if birds and pigs are natural enemies in real life, but all I know is that in this game the pigs sure did something bad to piss off those little birds!

In the free game (I’m way too cheap to actually pay for any apps that I download onto my phone!), there are 12 levels. And each level is more difficult than the last.

I’m currently working on the 12th level and cannot – for the life of me – annihilate all those stinkin’ pigs. Some of them cheat, though, and are wearing helmets, so they’re twice as hard to kill.

I get all happy when I bust up the structure with my first shot and the pig heads are left balancing precariously on what’s left of their fort. Each pig death brings 5,000 points to your total. And if you manage to kill all the pigs and you still have birds left, you get 1,000 extra points.

Sigh. When did I become so bloodthirsty and violent?

I think it started after the first level when I missed that last little green pig. See, when you run out of birds and there is still a pig left, he very smugly grins at you as if to say {in a really mocking pig-like tone of voice}, “Ha ha, loser. You missed me!”

As soon as that happened the first time, I immediately turned into a snarling, Rambo-like pig-killing machine and I wanted to wipe that silly grin off that silly pig face in the worst way!

Yeah. Sure. Whoever said that revenge is a dish best served cold had it right. I’d immediately try again and I’d invariably fumble that first bird shot so that the little bird head would plop out of the sling shot, bounce once and then roll a little bit never even coming close to the target.

Some killing machine I am, huh? Not so much.

Nevertheless, I did make it through the first 5 or 6 levels pretty quickly. Some of the later levels were pretty tricky and I had a hard time getting all the pigs. And sometimes one bird will split into three little birds – but never have I been able to use that phenomenon to my advantage. Nor do I know what I’ve done to magically multiply the birds. Usually it happens when I fumble, so all three birds bounce onto the grass well short of the target. And, yes, then I feel three times as foolish.

Maybe I should read the instructions? Yeah, sure. Like there were any instructions with this game.

I’m guessing that the developers figured that anyone younger than 80 knows how to play since gaming has been around for a few decades now.

Except for me. Other than playing foosball in college, I was never a “gamer.” (But you should know that I was GOOD at foosball!) Arcades with all their flashing lights and pinging noises and packs of kids hopped up on excessive amounts of sugar from Twizzlers and neon-colored Slurpies, made me a little nervous.

Thus, pinball, Pac-Man, and anything involving a joy-stick are beyond my capabilities. Or, maybe they’re just beyond my interest. I was never into Atari or X-Box or Wii or any of those gaming systems that require any sort of manual dexterity and the ability to shoot at targets, blow up little spaceships or gobble up little dots while evading some not-so-scary-looking ghosts with big eyes.

So it’s amazing to me that I’ve spent a lot of spare time shooting bird heads from sling shots at pig heads. And I like it.

Maybe there’s hope for me yet in the world of gaming.

Or maybe I should just get myself back over to the library to pick up some more books. And then maybe the little birds can make peace with the little pigs without my Rambo-like interference. Ah, see? I guess I AM a peace lover at heart!

Yeah, yeah, sure, peace. Whatever. First I need to get through Level 12…

New iPhone. The Rest of the Story...

So the other day I wrote a blog about getting my iPhone 3G replaced for free. There is, of course, more to the story. (Isn’t there always?!)

When we were at the Apple store (the first time), Vince pulled me over to the iPod Touch display and said he’d really like one for Christmas. (Yet he totally ignored my plea for a new iPad. Hmmm…what’s up with that?!)

Anyway, wouldn’t you know, I’d just spent some hard-earned dollars on a new iPod Nano for him for Christmas – and it had just arrived that very day via UPS. I had selected the color he liked and even had it engraved with a quote special to us both.

But he said he’d prefer the iPod Touch with its additional bells and whistles. “It doesn’t have a phone,” I said. “Why would you want it?”

Personally, I think he was a little jealous of my iPhone, but I couldn’t swear to it.

With his new job, Vince has plenty of time to listen to music – and my old iPod Nano that he was using was slowly dying. Or maybe not so slowly, as the sales guy at Apple commented on what an antique we had. It was no surprise to him that the battery life was nearly gone.

Actually, many of our battery-powered gadgets at home were getting ready to kick the bucket. My iPhone (the one I dropped Thursday night) was nearly 2-1/2 years old and required a mid-day charge to keep going throughout the evening. And Vince’s old-fashioned flip-top cell phone was more than ready for the cell phone graveyard. (My reaction whenever Vince asked me to send a text message from his phone? “You gotta be kiddin’ me, pal,” I’d say. “There’s no QUERTY keyboard on this thing and I have to press this button three times to get a flippin’ ‘c’!”)

I had intended to wait until after the holidays to replace both of our old cell phones, but it seemed like the perfect opportunity to get it taken care of now.

So I exchanged his iPod Nano for a new iPhone 4. Um. For me. And I gave him the iPhone 3. He keeps telling everyone that I gave him my old phone, but the truth of the matter is, it’s a brand, spankin’ new phone! And it’s wayyyyy better than his old crappy flip-top cell phone.

Besides, I didn’t think he’d appreciate the subtle differences between the iPhone 3 and the iPhone 4. Or at least that’s my justification. Flawed or not, it’s what I’m stickin’ with.

Plus, we got him a nifty case for the phone that includes a charger, so his new iPhone will operate twice as long. And a slick Bluetooth with stereo headphones.

Now, c’mon. Wouldn’t you say that’s a pretty nice Christmas gift package?

Of course, it’s not even December 1st. He will probably look at me with sad, puppy-dog eyes if I don’t get him something else to open on December 25th.

Sigh.

Maybe I should give him a bunch of extension cords with extra plugs. With all these gadgets we’ve got now, we’re running out of electrical outlets at home. Only problem is, we have to fumble our way to the fuse box every time we plug in the vacuum cleaner. (Guess that simply means we shouldn’t attempt to clean the carpet – ever. Right?!)

Ah well. It’s very easy to get sucked in buying all these new gizmos. I’m sure we could survive without them. But I, for one, don’t want to test the theory. And (cue the sad puppy-dog eyes), I still want an iPad. Really, really bad…

Are you listening, Santa??

iPhone Withdrawal

I was at the grocery store the other night and, on my way out of the store, I pulled my iPhone out of my pocket to see if Vince had called. Before I had the chance to do the left-to-right swipe across the bottom to view my voicemail icon, I dropped the damn thing. And it broke.

Arrrrggghhhh!

I’ve dropped it a million times, but evidently one million and one times is just one too many and it gave up the ghost. It even sported a ghost-like blank white screen as a sort of visual taunt. This was not good.

Later, Vince tried taking it apart to reach the battery thinking that if he took the battery out and put it back in, it would “reset.” Not so much. He managed to remove the tiny screws from the bottom of the phone and then wasn’t sure how to pry it apart. So he searched online for a “how-to” video.

The amateurish video he found was at least 20 minutes long and the guy narrating indicated that all sorts of special tools were needed. I sat in the chair behind Vince shaking my head in dismay the whole time hoping that he wouldn’t attempt to take it apart.

Fortunately, he didn’t. In defeat, I took my white-screened iPhone upstairs to try to back it up so I could save my photos and contacts and apps. Oh my. I have no idea if it actually worked, because before I went to bed the message on my computer read: “Backing up Jane’s iPhone.” And when I got up the next morning the screen still read: “Backing up Jane’s iPhone.” Seeing as how I really don’t have all that much stuff on my iPhone, I guessed there was a problem and the iPhone didn’t get backed up.

Sigh.

Before I went to bed I had to check my email the old-fashioned way using my desktop computer. A lunch get-together with some friends had been scheduled so I immediately picked up my iPhone to add it to my calendar. Oops. Couldn’t. Then I went to set my alarm to wake up this morning on my iPhone. Drat. Foiled again!

Since I never ever spring up out of bed before my alarm sounds in the morning, I had to request my husband’s assistance in setting up an actual alarm clock so I didn’t oversleep.

Vince usually sends me a text in the morning so I have a sweet message to wake up to…but that didn’t happen on Friday. And to communicate with me, he had to call me on the office landline. Can you imagine??

Wow. I truly AM addicted to my iPhone!

So much so that my first order of business on Friday (well, besides going to work!), was to schedule a lunchtime appointment with the wizards at Apple. Vince met me at Easton and we walked into the bright, shiny store that is Apple where all sorts of toys and gadgets abound. My eyes grew big with wonder as they feasted on such pretty sights as the iPads and the iPhone 4s and the incredibly thin and lightweight MacBook Airs. I WANTED IT ALL!

Vince had to practically drag me past all those yummy toys to the back of the store, which is where the technicians stand with tiny little screwdrivers waiting to help the next victim. The guys in their bright blue Apple shirts looked at my white-screened iPhone and tsk-tsked. Yes, they actually made that sound. But then they sprang into action. Instead of merely handing it back to me and saying, “Sorry, lady, this phone is toast,” they replaced it. FOR FREE. This would be no big deal if the phone was still under warranty or if I’d paid for the insurance on it, but neither was true.

So now the techs at Apple are my new best friends.

And, even though there was a glitch in backing up my white-screened iPhone, somehow all the information, contacts, photos and apps magically appeared on my new phone when I plugged it into my computer last night.

And, today? All is right with the world again.

Call me, okay? Or send a text. Whatever – I’ve got a working iPhone!! (Does anyone else hear a choir of angels singing - or is it just me?!)

Never Leave Work Without It

So yesterday I left work loaded down with my workout water bottle, insulated lunch bag, massive janitor-size set of keys and my purse, which is more like a suitcase and if weighed at the airport would result in over-the-weight-limit fees because it probably wouldn’t fit in an overhead compartment. What can I say? I need my “stuff”…

My evening’s plan was to sweat at the gym for a while and then afterwards, in my sweaty but triumphant state, stop at Target for some allergy pills (damn pollen!), and then to the library to pick up some desperately needed reading material. Jane without a book to read is not a happy person who in times of desperation has been forced to read the ingredient list on product packaging in the pantry. And nobody really wants to see that – it’s sort of pitiful.

At any rate, I was talking about leaving work. I drove about two miles away when it occurred to me that the one thing I’d left behind on my desk was my cell phone. OMG. I am never without my cell phone! I briefly considering hopping the divider on the highway to turn around and head back to the office to get it, but I decided that the repair costs to my vehicle would be too much to pay just to have my security blanket – aka my iPhone – in hand.

But seriously, there were about three times during my drive to the gym where I desperately wanted to turn back toward downtown.

How sick is that?

A little over a decade ago I didn’t even own a cell phone. Now it has become my lifeline. It wakes me up in the morning. It accompanies me on potty breaks. It alerts me to late-breaking news that someone has commented “LOL” on someone’s Facebook page that I earlier indicated I “liked.” It is my source for the latest news – both serious and wacky. I mean, where would I be in this life without knowing that some robber bungled a bank heist by writing “Gimme all your money” on the back of his own deposit slip?!

Oh, and occasionally, I make calls on the damn thing. Like to tell Vince that my commute to the gym took longer than anticipated, so my ETA at home would be approximately 16 minutes later than expected and that he shouldn’t call 911 or the National Guard to set up a Search and Rescue Op.

Sadly, I could do none of those things last night. And we had to set the actual alarm clock on my actual bedside table so I would awaken on time this morning. The whole time I kept feeling like something was seriously missing.

Sigh. How did this happen?

When I was single, I even got rid of my home telephone since I never made calls on it and pretty much only took calls from telemarketers, despite being on the National “Do Not Call” registry.

So, without a home phone, it seemed to me that having my cell phone with me at all times was imperative. Sure, we can argue that mobile phones were not imperative in prehistoric times (the scientifically named PCP, or “Pre-Cell-Phone” Era) when telephones were tethered to the wall, and we weren’t able to carry them farther than the cord would stretch, which basically meant about 5 steps in any direction from the phone’s location on the wall.

Yet we somehow managed to get ourselves to school and work without a piece of plastic surgically attached to our ears to broadcast our minute-by-minute progress with family, friends and coworkers.

We even managed to meet friends at various locations at the time we’d prearranged with them to meet. Sure, sometimes there were snafus – traffic problems might cause someone to be late. Or someone might get grounded at the last minute and not be able to alert us that they wouldn’t be showing up. But somehow we were able to deal with it.

At this point, however, I don’t think there is any turning back. I was disproportionately happy this morning when I came in to work and became reacquainted with my little friend in its shiny red cover. And, even though the “low battery” alert was flashing, I still lovingly tucked it into my pocket knowing that it would be there to get me through the next traffic jam. Or potty break.

How sick is that?!