Skinning Cats

I feel like a turtle coming out of hibernation. My shell is brittle, my parts don't want to work right. But it is the warm sun that draws me to stick my head out the door now and then.

I have been struggling with my book project. God love Bill Gates and his crew, but Microsoft Word has about gotten the best of me, in with the way it wants to boss my pages and formats around. There is more than one way to skin a cat, they say. I finally copied the whole thing into an email, in plain text, and copied it from there to a new Word document. Of course I lost all my little sub titles, all of the foot notes, every picture, and all of my index. Redoing them took less time than fighting with the Format the past two days. I don't know why it took me two days to figure out what to do. There probably is an easier way, but I couldn't find it.

The help screens might be easier to understand if they were written in a common language that I understood. The manuals were no more help. Door stops, all of them.

We sprung forward without much notice as we go to church on Saturday nights. Our fairly new watches sprung forward right along with the time change but it took an extra day as the signal is beeped out of Colorado at 3 a.m. and the real change was at 2 a.m. We still have ice and snow on the north side of the house. So I look out the front door which faces south. A person can almost avoid anything.

Today is a dear granddaughter's birthday. This is her first birthday as a mother. Everything changes with that passage. Nothing is ever the same again.