Everyone is in bed and I am left to clean up the mess. "Mom, the computer is slow again."
Great.
It takes hours and hours to remove all the crap the kids load on and run diagnostics and try to figure out why the computer keeps freezing and running like a turtle on valium. And is this my mess? No. It's not. For the most part I use the laptop, which runs hare-like I might add, and leave this to the little pests who spend hours loading on games and stuff even though they have been expressly told NOT TO.
My daughter has welcomed a trojan horse into our house and as a result I lost all the pictures I hadn't made a back up for (and just so you know how well I learn, I have pictures from the past few months that I haven't backed up yet). I yelled and screamed enough that time and patiently reformatted the hard drive and reloaded all the software and do I get a thanks? No, they jump on to the computer and immediately start downloading stuff. "I SAID NOT TO," I yell. Well, I need this, and that, and I can't live without this.
How about living without a computer? Because that is where they are headed.
Whatever they download, it always comes with a boatload of other stuff you don't want or need. The toolbars on my daughter's desktop for Internet is hilarious. She obviously keeps saying yes when she really means no and has no idea what she is saying yes to. She has about three inches left of open space below all her toolbars. She keeps begging me to remove them, but I think it's kind of funny. Like being buried under the rubble of dirty clothes she never takes care of in her room. Not my problem, mon.
Just like the words "please do your laundry" is never heard, when I say "please don't download stuff because you will RUIN the computer," they must be hearing the "blah blah blah" that I hear when they start talking about what the other was doing to them and why the hamster cage fell on the floor and oh yeah, it's not their fault. Is the hamster alive? Fine, go clean it up.
The computer runs like a top right now. But when they come down and find out that Saber Blaster has been removed, I have a feeling they are going to spend the morning reloading all the crap that slows the thing down.
What is in those games? Sounds like another topic to me!
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Do our kids have a clue?
Today the kids had their first day of dryland training for their ski team. The price of the program went up about 300 percent -- and my husband and I debated whether it was worth it for one day a week, two hours of skiing. It is, and it isn't. It's just a small mountain down the road with a rope tow and a T-bar. The lodge is small, homey and all the food costs $1. Every Wednesday the kids get into their boots while chatting in the lodge and then they go out on the small hill and run gates. The adults often just stay for the two hours, despite the fact that they only live within minutes of the mountain, and chat with each other while looking out the big windows and watching their kids. It's just one of those things ... one of those remnants of small town living that we used to take for granted and now, either doesn't exist, or is on the way out.
The mountain is owned by Proctor Academy, a small prep school located in the town of Andover. Blackwater Ski Area used to be privately owned, but the fact that it hardly snows on demand and the outrageous cost of snow-making made it an unprofitable venture. The school has done a commendable job of allowing local townsfolk access to the mountain for easy money, but the cost of the programs great leap into bigger money only proves that it won't be long before it is no longer feasible to keep the mountain open.
The school uses it as a training ground for its ski program, but they also truck the kids over to Mount Sunapee, which is about half an hour away and provides much more terrain. So it's not essential, and non-essentials are always the first to go in budget crunches. I don't have any idea what it costs to run a ski area without any income, but it can't be pretty. My feeling is that it's only a matter of time before this wonderful place is no longer able to run.
My kids, ages 13 and 11, love to go to Blackwater. The increase in the price was a blow, to be sure, but the potential loss of a place like this in their lives seemed to me to be more tragic. I grew up skiing at a family-owned area that had two rope tows. We never skied the trails, they were boring. Instead, we carved out crazy paths in the woods and built jumps and when we were cold and wet we went inside the funky lodge and had hot cocoa and laughed and went right back outside to try that helicopter jump that was so scary. I remember that part of my life vividly. I remember the day we stopped to drop of my sister to ski and discovered that they were having fun races. Because I hadn't intended to ski that day, I had nothing. No clothes, gloves or ski equipment. But the girls wanted me on their team, so when one of my friends did his run, I jumped into his boots and skis and did my run in huge boots and unfamiliar skis. I remember having to go up the rope tow with no gloves (ouch) and I remember winning.
I want my kids to have that same experience, even though it's not exactly the same. Do they know how lucky they are? Do they have a clue that their parents will cough up the green to keep them believing that the world is still small and everybody knows your name?
Today the kids had their first day of dryland training for their ski team. The price of the program went up about 300 percent -- and my husband and I debated whether it was worth it for one day a week, two hours of skiing. It is, and it isn't. It's just a small mountain down the road with a rope tow and a T-bar. The lodge is small, homey and all the food costs $1. Every Wednesday the kids get into their boots while chatting in the lodge and then they go out on the small hill and run gates. The adults often just stay for the two hours, despite the fact that they only live within minutes of the mountain, and chat with each other while looking out the big windows and watching their kids. It's just one of those things ... one of those remnants of small town living that we used to take for granted and now, either doesn't exist, or is on the way out.
The mountain is owned by Proctor Academy, a small prep school located in the town of Andover. Blackwater Ski Area used to be privately owned, but the fact that it hardly snows on demand and the outrageous cost of snow-making made it an unprofitable venture. The school has done a commendable job of allowing local townsfolk access to the mountain for easy money, but the cost of the programs great leap into bigger money only proves that it won't be long before it is no longer feasible to keep the mountain open.
The school uses it as a training ground for its ski program, but they also truck the kids over to Mount Sunapee, which is about half an hour away and provides much more terrain. So it's not essential, and non-essentials are always the first to go in budget crunches. I don't have any idea what it costs to run a ski area without any income, but it can't be pretty. My feeling is that it's only a matter of time before this wonderful place is no longer able to run.
My kids, ages 13 and 11, love to go to Blackwater. The increase in the price was a blow, to be sure, but the potential loss of a place like this in their lives seemed to me to be more tragic. I grew up skiing at a family-owned area that had two rope tows. We never skied the trails, they were boring. Instead, we carved out crazy paths in the woods and built jumps and when we were cold and wet we went inside the funky lodge and had hot cocoa and laughed and went right back outside to try that helicopter jump that was so scary. I remember that part of my life vividly. I remember the day we stopped to drop of my sister to ski and discovered that they were having fun races. Because I hadn't intended to ski that day, I had nothing. No clothes, gloves or ski equipment. But the girls wanted me on their team, so when one of my friends did his run, I jumped into his boots and skis and did my run in huge boots and unfamiliar skis. I remember having to go up the rope tow with no gloves (ouch) and I remember winning.
I want my kids to have that same experience, even though it's not exactly the same. Do they know how lucky they are? Do they have a clue that their parents will cough up the green to keep them believing that the world is still small and everybody knows your name?
Our house was known as Freedom Acres. It was built by two women, literally, and they eventually earned their living by selling jelly.
Coming up for a name for a blog was hard. I have no agenda and have no desire to focus on one thing or another. I just want to write whatever I feel like writing with no labels attached. Then I realized, hey, you've always wanted to do something with the name, Freedom Acres. End of story.
Coming up for a name for a blog was hard. I have no agenda and have no desire to focus on one thing or another. I just want to write whatever I feel like writing with no labels attached. Then I realized, hey, you've always wanted to do something with the name, Freedom Acres. End of story.
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