Sandi Kahn Shelton

Life has been simpler since I have accepted certain things about myself. I know, for instance, that I will never understand how the electricity comes out of the walls, nor will I ever know exactly why it takes TWO REMOTES to run my television set, and why it is that even then you have to press a series of buttons in rapid succession and if you make a mistake and miss one, then someone (not me–oh God not me) has to get out the manual again and reprogram the whole thing from scratch. But there are certain things I CAN do, even things with technology. I know how to work my iPod most of the time, and I can operate my cell phone and write emails! Almost 100% of the time they actually go through.

Okay. So I have this book coming out. I may have mentioned this. KISSING GAMES OF THE WORLD. Comes out on Election Day.

I decided that I should use my skills to write to my family members about this book. I have a far-flung family–lots and lots of cousins I hardly ever see, an uncle or two, and an aunt–and I decided that I should, you know, TELL them about the book.

So they could, you know, BUY IT.

I made up my mind to write them an email, a humble, informative–okay, BEGGING email. In it, I pointed out that I have hardly ever whined about a book coming out before, but that I had chosen to whine to them now because the economy has gone to hell and these days people hardly have two $10 bills to rub together…but if they DID have two $10 bills, I said, maybe they would like to pre-order my book on Amazon. You know, in the name of family love and values. I even humbly mentioned that Publishers Weekly had said the book was an "absolute treat, filled with realistic twists, complex characters, and a moving conclusion."

And then came the whining. I said that according to the publicist for the book (who would, I’m sure, have me go stand in Times Square in my underwear if it would sell even one more book!), pre-orders are very important to the life of a book these days! Could be the difference between a book that is gingerly tended to on life support and one that is tossed into the scrapheap of history, she said.

I gave the link to pre-order. It is here, if you are interested. And I signed it with love and hope that we would all see each other again soon.

Then I did something I never did before. I gathered all their email addresses and put them together in one file that I called "sandi shelton." I have always admired that other people send emails without everybody’s addresses showing all over the place. How elegant, I have thought. How technologically savvy such a person would be who did something like that!

I pressed the SEND button with no regrets.

But then, as always happens, there came the middle of the night. I was up late, blogging away about blonde chicken chili. To make the entry interesting, I decided to search the internets for a nice picture of a chili pepper and perhaps some spices. I found one and emailed it to myself and then I found a picture of spices on a spoon, and sent that to myself as well.

And then I realized what I had done. I had sent all my relatives (some who barely even know me as an adult) a begging email, followed by a wordless picture of a hot chili pepper, followed once again by a photo of spices on a spoon. Would they see this as a warning? A definitive sign that I have gone crazy?

Clearly, I had to say SOMETHING reassuring to them. So I wrote them another email, this one at 2 a.m., insisting on my own sanity. I tried to explain about the problems of emailing.

Readers of this blog, I have to report that mostly they have not answered me. Oh, my aunt wrote back and said simply, "fascinating." My mother’s brother said, "I was wondering where your mother’s genes had gotten to."

So now that I’m a known crazy person among my family members, I’m contemplating other, more daring, ventures. Perhaps I should start sending them pictures of different objects every few days or so: a bunny slipper, an eggplant that looks like Nixon, or maybe a Q-Tip. It might be a sort of ransom note: PRE-ORDER MY BOOK OR YOU WILL CONTINUE TO GET PHOTOGRAPHS IN EMAILS FROM ME!

Bwaaahahahaha!   

I am writing this on my assistant, back-up computer, and while I write this, I am watching my REAL computer delete every single thing it has in its memory.

This is not for the faint-hearted, believe me. In fact, next to childbirth and having my wisdom teeth removed and one bad day when I thought I was going to have to have a root canal but then received a dental pardon, I think this may be the hardest thing I’ve ever watched. This is because I know that I am losing all the music that I have so painstakingly downloaded from iTunes (and, yes, NEVER BACKED UP ON DISKS, because who would think a year-old computer would break down). I have had to sit here and know that this computer–this computer whom I have loved and polished and cooed over and dusted the dog hair out of and even VACUUMED (when I hardly vacuum anything)…yes, this very computer has betrayed my trust, and is right now losing all my emails, including the addresses of people I may never find again. And the list of all my Bookmarks on the Internet.

Sigh. If you never hear from me again, you will know why. I lost you when my computer contracted Technological Alzheimers. (Try me again–please!)

Anyway, I am not going to rant and rave. Before its spectacular death this time, at least, the computer was willing to hand me back: my novel, all the newspaper stories I have written since the last computer meltdown, letters and photographs, and a couple of videos I took from my camera. And beyond that, I’m not going to rant and rave because I had a splendid day today that included hanging out with little kids in a pumpkin patch, and then eating ice cream cones while we watched llamas saunter around and a goat climb onto a roof at the little farm near our house.

(82% of my computer is now erased. The program that is taking all this away has a very Orwellian name: Destructive Recovery, which the Tech Person on the phone did not seem to find ironic at all, even when I laughed.) (Really! Who THINKS of these names??)

To catch you up to date, though, the computer failed spectacularly a few weeks ago when I was at Starbucks ready to write many scenes of my novel. You know how it is: you sit down AT LAST knowing what you’re going to do with that character, and you’ve figured out the ending, and you also know that you need another secondary character and you know that her name is Lori…and then your computer refuses to turn on, just directs some angry-sounding beeps your way. The people in Starbucks turn and stare at you as if you’ve polluted the office atmosphere there.

So, after a few phone calls, the computer went off to visit with its makers at HP…and then it FINALLY came back home, all shiny and enthusiastic, and sporting a a new motherboard, a new fan, a new screen, and a sound card.

Then it wouldn’t boot up. And its only explanation was that it had error OOx0000008. Thanks.

(Ohhh! It’s now finished with the destruction recovery. It is saying, “Please wait…”)

At least it is very polite now that it’s been visiting its origins.

(Now it’s inviting me to restart my computer, and if I do not see the Blue Screen of Death, then I can go along on my merry way loading up programs again, but, as the technician on the phone said, if I DO see the Blue Screen of Death, then–well, THEN all hell will break loose, and I have to get HP to send me a new hard drive, and then I have to wait for days and days more. Weeks, even!

Isn’t the suspense here just palpable?

(ACK! The blue screen! But wait. It’s a different blue screen, a KINDLY blue screen. It says, “Please wait while Windows prepares to start…..” and then nothing happens for a very long, a breath-takingly long time.)

Anyway, it was a beautiful fall day outside, and last night we went to our town’s little country fair and saw the pigs and the cows and we rode on the rides, and it’s so much fun to get caught up in all that again when you are with an almost five-year old and a baby of 16 months. Although word to the wise: it is NOT a good idea to take a baby of 16 months on a Ferris wheel, especially an enormous baby who is fighting and squirming and screaming and trying to eject himself over the side, especially when the little swinging cart is at the very, very top. Just saying, for next time. No Ferris wheels.

(Windows is now thanking me for purchasing this computer, playing a very soothing lullaby-type song, and asking me to “spend a few moments here setting up my new computer.”)

And…and….by god, we have had a successful encounter, Windows and I! I THINK WE HAVE ACTUAL SUCCESS!!  It has set up the computer, it will agree to accept the thumb drive with my novel, etc., upon it. There is even a slight, slight chance it will remember me and restore my emails to me. And I’ll reintroduce it to the camera, the iPod, and my Internet provider, my bookmarks, my youtube favorites, my blog. All of that.

And I’ll start backing things up. I promise this time. No, really.