Today

Today was a pretty good day, even though it started out with all the characteristics of total crappola.

We've cut back our summer grandchildren duties from past years to just Mondays and Wednesdays. She has them Mondays and Wednesdays until noon, and I have them Wednesdays afternoons. An equitable distribution of responsibility.

So, today is Wednesday and Her's computer has et up and then disposed of her complete itinerary from January forward, and won't give it back. It's all gone. Goddam Vista and goddam Palm conspiracy, near as I can tell.

Now, her's is not a tidy, predictable calendar. Her's trips to Our Gentle Neighbor Northward, her talks to the stupid, unappreciative locals, and even, god forbid, her hair appointments, all at odd, non recurring intervals were gone, disappeared, null, nixo, gotverloren and seemingly irretrievable.

Seems her stuff didn't appear to have backed itself up since NinederJune, when Yerstruly manually made it do so, and yes, Sherlock, that culpability trail was so obvious a 20 year old schnauzer with hay fever could just sneeze and point.

So we phoned for Bob, Miracle Bob. An Aspergers candidate who charges less than 65% of what the last microsoft healer did. Bob shows up, timely. He's not optimistic, not cheerful, not communicative, but not expensive. Stuff doesn't work that should. Drives are stipulated that don't exist. Outcome seems hopeless. Thanks, Bob.

So, what does a guy like me do in this situation?

Takes the grandkids to the Museum, of course.

On the way over we stops by the bank, entertains the patrons. We stops by the pool store to get our pool water tested; entertains the pool store patrons. Pool water fine, by the way, thanks for asking. We sets the bus computer for the museum address, and then find multiple ways to confound the computer. We goes round in circles in the pool store parking lot. We goes north when the bus computer insists on south. We goes right when the computer insists left. We find this hysterically entertaining, hilarious. We imagine the computer cursing, furious that we won't follow its directions. We are consumed by paroxysms of laughter, most of us.

B: "Grampa, wouldn't it be cool if we could put the address into the computer and it just drove us there? You wouldn't have to do the driving and could just talk to us and have fun!"

"Well. Sweetie, by the time you're able to drive, I'll bet that we'll be able to do just that! What are you, fourteen, fifteen?"

"Grampa, I'm 8!"

"OK then, I'm sure we'll be able to do that when you can drive."

"Will you still be alive then Gramps?


We spend a bit more than two hours at the museum, which has a special display on the Mars Rovers and has added an astonishing skeleton of a 60,000 year old mammoth. We pan for gold, marvel at the snapping turtle, try out the bunks from the Arizona territorial jail, and make sure that B has to handle the fossilized dinosaur poop. She squeals and rubs her hands on our shirts.

We head back to the Junction. School starts up in five weeks and this particular aspect of grandparenting will be over for another year.

A text fom Herself tells me that Miracle Bob has found and restored the lost data. "It's safe to come home and bring the babies to swim in the pool."

"Can we stop at DQ, Gramps?"

"NO!" I bought you drinks at the museum, you're too expensive, no more, I'm done."

"Grampa, you know you always do"

"Ahhhhh ok"

"Grampa, how come you smile so much?"

Today was a pretty good day.