Fine, I’ll get it myself.
“In the old pre-technology days, it would have been almost impossible to replicate Facebook or Twitter. The closest you could get would be to mail dozens of postcards a day to everybody you know, each with a brief message about yourself like: “Finally got that haircut I’ve been putting off.” Or: “Just had a caramel frappuccino. Yum!” The people receiving these postcards would have naturally assumed you were a moron with a narcissism disorder. But today, thanks to Facebook and Twitter, you are seen as a person engaging in ‘social networking’.”
–Dave Barry
Dishing up cat food early in the morning requires dedication and a certain amount of patience (meow, meow, MEOW, MEOW x 1 million), so I was doing a little hip-shaking dance to a tune heard only by me. The cats could care less about my personal party. Their attitude is more, Just put the food down, lady, and we’ll stop the eardrum destroying meowing. Now. NOW!!! Geez, if I had their focus and perseverance, I would rule the world.
A short while later my husband walks into the kitchen looking like a human wet noodle. Shoulders slumped, head down, face flaccid. Somebody needed a hug. Still doing my, um, interpretive dance, I wiggled and waggled over to him.
“What’s up, Lover?” I bounced my shoulder off of him a couple of times to make sure he was alive.
He looked at me with dead eyes. Oh oh.
“Technology is going to kill me,” he replied.
“What now?” I stopped dancing, as nothing is more annoying than a happy person when you want to curl up in a corner and suck a thumb.
“I want to help you grow your photography business,” he said, “But I just don’t understand how to use Smugmug. There’s templates, albums, descriptions, and keywords. I have no idea if your images are sized right or wrong or have enough pencils, or ???”
“Mmmhmmm. I think the term you want is pixels, not pencils. Have you watched the tutorials?”
My husband after spending any amount of time online. And he’s not sharing.
“Yes. Over and over and over. (Makes hand zooming over head motion.) And I’ve spoken with Mary who tells me it is super easy. But, I’m completely lost.”
His shoulders sag even further, which I didn’t think possible.
How I love this man. He could be living his well-earned retirement by joining clubs, taking walks, wearing plaid pants belted above the navel, and eating whatever, and whenever his heart desires. In other words, life could be one big party. But no. He’s trying to help me realize my dreams and find my footing.
Oh wait, maybe he does wear plaid pants.
“Dance with me,” I say.
He looks up. “I….”
“DANCE with me.” (If our cats can nag until they get what they want, so can I.)
He put his arms around me, and we swayed to the music our love creates. We stayed that way for some time.
We’ll make a run at navigating my Smugmug account* together. That’s what always works best for us.
Together.
*It’s pretty barebone just yet, but if you want to check out my account go to https://gailgates.smugmug.com
Let me/us know what we can do to improve the experience!
That’s great! Tell Tad that he is most definitely not alone.