Are We There Yet?
The Old Gal is now nothing but old toast
LORI CLINCH
Irecently wrote a column about my computer issues, and the passage of time hasn't rid me of my woes.

Our old computer is at the end of her rope and has decided that it's time to clock out for good.

I, for one, don't want the Old Gal to retire. I live in an outdated world and I don't mind it a bit. I adore my Polaroid camera, I don't understand text messaging, and I can still make good use of a boom box that sports a wire hanger for an antenna.

Yet, as the days pass, the Old Gal has become more and more difficult to live with. She can't remember where she left the key to her programs, she's had trouble following commands, and I'm quite certain that she has to drop bread crumbs to find her way back to her home page.

Hoping to nurse her along and perhaps get her through the holidays, we sent for our eldest son, Vernon. Vernon has a knack for repairing complex items, mending intricate systems and fixing the unfixable. We had high hopes that he'd consider gracing us with his presence and work a PC miracle.

When he first arrived, we sang his praises and rolled out the red carpet. We fed him a hot meal, gave him the comfy office chair, and then stood back and waited for him to work his magic.

As the family looked on, Vernon cracked his knuckles, moved his head around in a circle and then stared at the computer intently. He rolled his shoulders, shifted in his seat, and when the time was right, he moved the mouse and then proclaimed that the computer was, and I quote, "toast."

He then offered up what he thought to be his professional opinion: "She's waving a white flag and thumbing a ride to that big Web site in the sky."

Vernon is a bright young man and may be wise beyond his years. Still, there was no reason to take his word as law. Therefore, we decided to step things up a notch and call in my brother-in-law (the great computer guru of his time).

I'll be danged if the bro-in-law didn't confirm Vernon's diagnosis. "Well," he said as he prepared me for the worst, "if we let the computer remain in a state of disrepair, the hard drive is bound to crash. That will surely cause you to encounter difficulties of epic proportions. So how are the kids doing?"

Have you ever noticed that gurus often soften the blow by asking how the kids are doing?

I am in front of my new computer right now, and I have to be honest with you, I'm not as happy as I should be. Instead of the coughing and choking sound that the Old Gal made, the new computer has the audacity to purr like a kitten. It brings up Web sites simply for the asking, jumps from one task to another with ease, and I'll be danged if it doesn't return to its home page without leaving so much as a bread crumb behind.

I'm all out of sorts.

The screen is so big that I feel as if I'm sitting in front of a drive-in theater. I feel as if I'm writing in front of a live audience, and I'm quite certain the screen can be viewed for up to two miles to the north. Simply put: This new system has caused me to lose my mojo.

As if that weren't enough, we are now blessed with a plethora of new software up to and including a new operating system called Vista. Turns out that Vista is a good idea, and anyone who is serious about software has it. In fact, you show me someone who doesn't think that Vista is the way to manage your home and office PC, and I'll show you someone who doesn't understand computers.

Then we could start a support group and I'll be their president.

"So, Lori," my brother-in-law asked when he called yesterday morning, "are you getting a feel for things?"

"No," I replied with disgust, "the dang thing has arranged stuff in a way that I don't like, is using terms that I don't understand, and gives a whole new meaning to complex scenarios."

"It may take time, but you'll get the hang of it eventually." Hang of it is right. In fact, if I were to be honest, I'd like the dang thing better if it was sporting a wire hanger for an antenna.

Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons

and the author of the book "Are We

There Yet?" You can reach her at

www.loriclinch.com.