Where There's a Will

Several times in my life, I have discovered significant gaps in my common knowledge. These blips have provided embarrassment for me, and enjoyment for my family members. The first that I recall, although I am sure there were earlier incidents, was during my senior year of high school. My AP English teacher told me he had put a book on hold for me at the local bookstore. I just needed to speak with Will Call. "Great. Is this Will guy expecting me?" At first, Mr. Dolan laughed as if he were in on my joke, and then his expression changed to chagrin as he realized I was being serious. "No, will call. Will call."

Then, a few years back, I decided to make Elizabeth a robe for Christmas, an undertaking I never would have attempted without knowing I had my mom for backup. And by backup, I mean that my mom would pretty much be charged with all technical aspects of the project. I strolled through the local B.I. fabric shop, doing my best to look like a seasoned seamstress. I ordered the amount of fabric my mom and I had rehearsed, and the women helping me asked if I had any other notions. "Um, well. No...this is my only idea for a project right now. I'm pretty new." She said, "No, notions. Anything extra you need for this project?" My face felt hot. "No, really. I'm just sticking to the pattern for this first one." I detailed my shopping experience with the pushy saleslady to my mom later, who found the whole episode hilarious. "Notions" apparently are the extra items aside from just fabric that a pattern might call for (buttons, etc.). I had no IDEA.

I have done my best to shore up any holes in my own children's knowledge base--but we've already experienced confusion regarding another famous Will:

E: We know two Will's--the guy in my class, and the nice guy with the truck that has all the stuff, right Mommy?

J: Um? I know Will in your class, but who is the other guy?

E: You know Mom. The nice Will. The Good Will.

These types of conversations have become some of my favorite, and it has me wondering if my parents kept me in the dark on some things purposefully just for their own amusement.

Inept

When I graduated from college and started working as an admissions counselor for the University of Portland, I was considered one of the more technologically proficient members of the staff. Indeed, I was responsible for finding a more "contemporary" way to communicate with prospective students--online chats. At 22, I scheduled and implemented the first demonstration "chat," and then delivered what I felt was a pretty impressive power point detailing the results to the Dean of Admissions and the Vice President. That was in 2003.

The University of Portland has since managed to maintain relevance as new social media emerged over the past decade. Unfortunately, I have not. While I have a facebook account, I am a high-risk user. (I was once searching for my sister's page and changed my status to her name. It could have been waaaayyy more embarrassing had I been searching for someone else....) I don't have a "smart" phone and I have an incredibly difficult time using my husband's, I recently asked a friend what cd she would recommend for me, and when I tell people I'll "pencil in" appointments and social engagements, I mean it literally. (On my paper calendar, obviously.) I also have yet to tweet one time myself, and am totally confused as to what the # symbol means in other people's tweets or when it is written on facebook. Anyone?

Thus--it was my husband who pointed out that changing the name of my blog is all good and fine, but when the web address of your blog is still your physical address, people are STILL going to have a good idea of where you live. Whoops. Please do not be surprised if my web address for the blog changes soon. I just have to figure out how to do it. Now I'm REALLY keeping you on your toes.

PS. Unfortunately, I realize that my technological shortcomings may be affecting my children. When Sam and I were walking back from dropping Elizabeth off at the bus stop recently, we passed a neighbor's house just as their garage door was opening. He stared in total wonder. "Oh my gosh, Mommy!! That is going up all by itself--no one is even pushing it!!!" It might be time to install that electric garage door opener....

Monogrammed Backpacks

While working on an RFP for a government contract this afternoon (and yes, that is as boring as it sounds), I inadvertently clicked on the bookmark for my old blog. And then I got slightly sidetracked reading. And then I became utterly motivated to blog again.

I know, many of you (or at least one or two of my 8 followers) are probably thinking that you refuse to believe what is likely to become another unfulfilled promise of consistent writing by Jeannie. Aunt Ginny--my inability to follow through at age ten on revitalizing the Stuyvesant family newspaper from your youth probably leaves you the most jaded. But--I implore you. Have (some) faith. Because I am set to start my new nonfiction writing class in a matter of days, I know that my writing juices will be flowing. So even if I don't have blog entries per se to upload, I should have some interesting writing to publish instead. I would publish my current writings right now, but I highly doubt any of you want to read my grants. Unfortunately, I think that goes for the foundations and county officials to whom I submit proposals as well. Sigh.

So, here I am. Again. With a new blog title. Why? Because I realized that my previous blog title was the equivalent of monogramming a child's backpack. Whenever I peruse the Pottery Barn Kids catalogs that are sent to our house with alarming frequency, I admire the children's backpacks. And then chide the imaginary parents, because come on! Why, oh why, would you put your child's name on their backpack? Obviously, the kidnappers lurking in bushes are awaiting just such an opportunity as knowing to call for "Aidan" or "Quinn" when trying to lure your child. Sheesh.

My previous blog title--that of my street address (what was I thinking?)--created a similar opportunity for all my lurking but adoring fans. Why should I have to surrender my coveted anonymity? So, my interim title "Bainbridge Musings" came about because 1). I live on Bainbridge. (But now you don't know where. HA!); 2). It is 4:30 pm on Friday and I have been writing aforementioned government contracts for the past 7 plus hours; and 3). I really should get downstairs because I hear my dear husband and children having a dance party to Paul Simon's Cecelia..and I really want to join 'em.

When I have the time, and the creativity, to think of a better permanent name, I will. Or maybe I will just keep changing things up to keep you on your toes.