The weirdest thing is happening:
My software is on the fritz.
This was not yesterday, or even last week.
To wit, that grass is not green.
So I just kept clicking — what else could I do??
Leaves started growing, then I ended up at a weird image from just last weekend when a man with a camera — walking with a woman with a pocketbook, and another man in his Navy whites — spoke to me outside my home. He asked if the wavy glass on our back entryway was old or just made to look old. He even took a picture of it. (Tables do turn!!) Fact is: it's not old. It's certainly not old by Newport standards. We may live in the Historic District, but we've made some changes ... all with the approval of the Historic District Commission, of course. Renovation is allowed here. Even new construction. It's weird to think about, but all this "historic" stuff was new, modern — even high-tech — at one point.
And now the bright green leaves are covering the brown tangled vines ... but my software is seriously messed-up. I repeat: I'm not making this up. And I'm not sure what to do about it. Just keep picking through the scraps for some semblance of sense, I suppose.
I sat down to ponder whatever recent images might contribute to my making some semblance of sense this morning, but every time I clicked on something to consider it more closely, I ended up somewhere else. Somewhere totally random. Like at an image from way back in December of a vine-covered wall near my home ... I remember that snowstorm. Darling Daughter had just arrived home from college for Christmas. Hardly a bad thing.
But it's a problem!! I can't access what I want to access in order to edit, straighten, crop, even export. The best I can do (and did this morning) is to email a series of random untitled images to myself, hardly a sophisticated or efficient endeavor. I'm not making this up!! Another click, and I was at Newport Vineyards, i.e. more vines, and still in the snow. Another click, and it was a cold bumpy bike ride around Ocean Drive.
This was not yesterday, or even last week.
To wit, that grass is not green.
So I just kept clicking — what else could I do??
And as I clicked, I walked through town,
or remembered walking through town.
I thought with fleeting interest about architecture but more about the people who lived within these/those Colonial structures. I revisited Isaac Bell House, built more than a century later, where I'd considered a light fixture (yes, a light fixure) back in March and where I visited for real in May, meaning I went on an actual proper tour with my aunt who was visiting. It was architecturally amazing if mortifying that it took me so long to get there. But that's not unusual (right??): that it takes having a visitor, an outsider, a pair of fresh eyes, to make us see and do things we should have done long ago.
I thought with fleeting interest about architecture but more about the people who lived within these/those Colonial structures. I revisited Isaac Bell House, built more than a century later, where I'd considered a light fixture (yes, a light fixure) back in March and where I visited for real in May, meaning I went on an actual proper tour with my aunt who was visiting. It was architecturally amazing if mortifying that it took me so long to get there. But that's not unusual (right??): that it takes having a visitor, an outsider, a pair of fresh eyes, to make us see and do things we should have done long ago.
Leaves started growing, then I ended up at a weird image from just last weekend when a man with a camera — walking with a woman with a pocketbook, and another man in his Navy whites — spoke to me outside my home. He asked if the wavy glass on our back entryway was old or just made to look old. He even took a picture of it. (Tables do turn!!) Fact is: it's not old. It's certainly not old by Newport standards. We may live in the Historic District, but we've made some changes ... all with the approval of the Historic District Commission, of course. Renovation is allowed here. Even new construction. It's weird to think about, but all this "historic" stuff was new, modern — even high-tech — at one point.
And now the bright green leaves are covering the brown tangled vines ... but my software is seriously messed-up. I repeat: I'm not making this up. And I'm not sure what to do about it. Just keep picking through the scraps for some semblance of sense, I suppose.
Oh, and maybe call Tech Support, that being Super Son.
He's my technical wizard.
