M.J. Compton's Blog

About a year ago, I purchased a new notebook computer, as my old one was getting slow, the audio was never any good, and it ran on Windows 10, which Microsoft was no longer going to support. I purposely chose one that allegedly had a Windows 11 operating system. I use a notebook computer when I go on writing retreats due to their compact size.

I liked the new computer a lot, except for the positioning of the power button. But I didn’t like positioning of the power button on my previous notebook, either. I guess you can’t have everything, LOL.

The new one worked great, until about six months ago, when I was advised that the version of Windows 11 that was on the computer needed to be upgraded. I’ve never heard of this, but as it was the computer telling me to update my Windows 11, I did. And my trackpad disappeared. I couldn’t use my mouse. I had to do a system reset. This annoyed me for a few reasons. First, I update my computers weekly, especially if I’m not using one on a regular basis. Secondly, it happened just as I was heading to a writing retreat. So I lost precious writing time dealing with it.

A few weeks ago, the computer once again indicated more Windows updates were needed. Okay, I thought. Let’s do this.

That was a mistake. A big mistake. The updates took a couple of days. When they were supposedly all installed, I turned on the computer. I got the maker’s name, as always, then…nothing but a black screen. Several times. I searched for a solution on line. Ctrl+Alt+Del; Shift+Ctrl+Windows Key+B; making sure the brightness wasn’t turned all the way down. F8 for a systems reboot. I even stuck a pin in the hole in the bottom of the computer to restart the battery (several YouTubers recommended this). If I held down the power key for 30 or so seconds, I could see the computer turning off. But between the maker’s name and that moment, nothing but black screen.

Now I have to pay to have someone look at it. I’m not sure if it was a Windows update issue or my internet service (which I really think is inferior, but it’s the only option where I live) did something during the updates.

Stay tuned.

It’s nearly lawn mowing season in upstate New York. Last year, I noticed the person who mows our lawn skipped a big swath in our back yard. He left a message for my husband: he couldn’t mow the back of the lawn because it was covered in broken glass.

We went out to investigate. Wow. Here are a few photos of what we found.

It looked as if an entire window had been shattered in our grass. We checked our house to make sure every window was in place. Same with our garage. We asked ourselves if someone would just carry in a window and break it on our property as a form of vandalism. As we donned our gardening gloves to pluck the shards we continued to look around.

Then I spotted it. One our neighbors’ attic windows blew out and somehow flew sideways to land in our lawn. Weird. It had to have flown like a Frisbee to end up where it did.

I called the property owner and left a message. She thanked me for letting her know, but she never asked me how I knew. I thought that was weird, too.

If you follow my blog, you know that I recently purchased a new stove. It has a gas cook top and what I believe is an electric oven that does a lot of different things: bake, air-fry, convection oven, broiler, dehydrator, and I don’t know what all else. It scares me a little bit. I told my brother it even loads the dishwasher for me. Jane Jetson would be jealous.

When I purchased the stove, I was worried about storage space, because I was losing a side “cupboard” next to the oven. But when it was installed, I noticed a drawer labeled “storage” on the bottom, where the broiler on my previous stove was located. It now houses baking sheets, cooking racks, and pot covers. Lots of flat things.

My brother and his oldest daughter stopped by the house a few months ago. He wanted to see my miraculous oven that allegedly loads the dishwasher. He loved the stove. My niece kept trying to telling the storage drawer was actually the broiler. I finally pointed out the label. But then my brother and I regaled her with a story about our parents–her grandparents–and when they, too, had a gas stove.

Their oven was also gas. They used to store brown paper grocery bags in the “drawer” beneath the oven. For years. Many, many years. Until the night the grocery bags caught fire because the alleged drawer was actually a broiler and where the oven pilot light (an open flame) was located. Yup.

Now, my dad was a pretty smart guy. I still can’t believe he didn’t know the “drawer” was a broiler or that the pilot light was there. Fortunately, my folks were able to smother the fire immediately, while yelling at we three children to get out of the house. No damage. But it was a moment.

And yeah, I made sure the new storage drawer was exactly as advertised.

It’s one of those stories to pass down to generations.

If you subscribe to my newsletter, you’ll know that last fall, I took clippings from the coleus I had in my yard and propigated them the way my grandmother taught me to do it.

They rooted pretty quickly, which surprised me. The process didn’t work out so well the previous year.

I dug up dirt from my outdoor planters and put it in pots in my office so I could plant the propigated stems.

Several months have passed. I have been good about remembering to water and rotate weekly. My diligence has been rewarded.

The photos don’t do the plants justice. They are healthy and thriving. I love sitting next to them when I’m doing my Morning Pages or 15 Minutes of Nothing.

Sometimes, the little things can make all the difference.

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I remember in the 4th and 5th grades having to sit in the front of the classroom because I couldn’t see the blackboard. I finally got glasses in the 6th grade. I wore glasses all the time. When I got my driver’s license, it very clearly stated I needed corrective lenses.

But I only needed glasses for distance–TV, driving, etc. Not for reading.

Several years later, when wearing contacts, I developed the need for reading glasses. I stopped wearing contacts and went to bifocals.  And that worked fine.

Until a couple of years ago.

I noticed I had a hard time reading road signs or watching television with my glasses on. I mentioned it to my eye doctor. Lo and behold, a miracle had happened. My vision, without corrective lenses was 20/20. I mean who has ever heard of that? I did not have surgery. It just…happened!

I do need computer glasses, so I have bifocals for that, but I don’t need anything for watching TV or driving.

I still need reading glasses, but I can now purchase them on line. In bulk. I have so much fun matching my eyewear to my outfit. Next on the list: rhinestone glasses.

I live on the corner of a somewhat main thoroughfare and a little-traveled side street. After Daylight Savings Times ended this past autumn, I started noticing something odd: a school bus would round the corner and stop on the side street outside my office windows. The flashing red lights would come on, the STOP signs would engage, and the door would open. A moment later the door would close and the bus would take off. I couldn’t think of a single child in the neighborhood who would be getting on the bus at that place. The corner? Maybe. But not a quarter of the way down the block where there isn’t even a driveway, especially this time of year.

I didn’t notice this every morning, probably because I wasn’t awake or out of bed between 6:55 and 7AM. The leisurely life of the self-employed author lets me sleep in if I need to.

The past few mornings I have been awake, out of bed and actually sitting at my window doing Morning Pages (something writers sometimes do) and the bus arrived right on schedule. The door opened. The door closed. I did not see a child enter or exit the bus. After the bus drove off, I checked to see if there were footprints in the snow. Nope.

I decided that there is a ghost child living nearby and that bus is the neighborhood’s version of the Hogwarts Express.

For the record, I don’t live near a railroad crossing either. (Railroad crossings and school buses have rules!) I could not think of a single reason for the bus to behave in that manner except for a ghost child. I considered reaching out to some people who know people who drive school buses for an explanation, but decided that would involve too much effort. After all, I am a fiction author. I am allowed to make things up. Ghost child.

This morning (the morning I am writing this blog) I happened to catch the driver do something with an iPad attached to his dashboard. A-HA! I thought. He stops here to check in and prove that he’s on schedule.

That thought was immediately followed by acknowleding that was a totally boring motive. Realistic, but boring.

I like my theory of a ghost child much better.

My favorite artist passed away in December. Her name was Janet Fish. She painted light.

I first came across her work at a local art gallery, where her wonderful “Spring Party” was on exhibit. Maybe it wasn’t really, but that’s what I remember.

Several months later in a catalog from a Boston museum, I saw that posters (prints?) of the painting were available. I didn’t have the money at the time, so I passed, but I cut out the picture from the catalog and glued it to a piece of cardboard to hang over my desk at Day Job to remind me there is joy in the world. The poster was in the next ediiton of the catalog, too. I did the same thing. Somewhere along the way, one of my “bookmarks” was lost, but I still have one hanging behind me.

When the Day Job offices were being redone, I was told I could have any artwork I wanted. I called the Boston museum and asked them about the “Spring Party” poster/print. I had them check their storage. I was years too late. I settled on Sara Eyestone posters, which I also love, but they aren’t about light.

I see that you can now buy “Spring Party” prints from private collectors, but they’re still out of my price range.

One year for my birthday, my husband bought me a book of Fish’s paintings. “Spring Party” is a pullout centerfold. I’m so glad I have this so I can revisit her work.

Everyone needs an artist they can love. Here’s another link to Fish’s work.

Hot stove season in baseball is when a lot of players are traded or free agents sign with new teams.

I had my own hot stove season this past fall. Talk about an annoyance!

Here is a photo of the stove that came with my house. Thirty-six inches wide. Didn’t have a choice about that.

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I have cooked on antique gas stoves for most of my adult life. I wanted something similar to this one: four burners, extra “counter” space between the burners, storage on the side of the oven, gas, and white.

I found what I wanted on line at a Big Box Store.

Pretty darn close. Except even though the website assured me the stove was in stock, it was not. I was told they would order it and deliver it directly to my address. Meaning the lawn. Their delivery people don’t do installation. Well, weren’t they a barrel of good customer service (this was after waiting over half-an-hour for someone to work with us). They suggested we go to a local store just up the street.

TV wanted to try another Big Box Store. He blanched at the prices. I refused to go to yet another Big Box Store because I’m still annoyed about the lack of customer service from when we purchased our dish washer and dryer, not to mention defective toilets.

We did end up at the local store the first Box Store suggested, where a low-key salesman, working on commission, but very low key, worked with us. Did I get a white stove? Nope. Four burners on a 36″ stove? Nope. But we did buy a stove, a refrigerator, and a range hood, which were all delivered with great care and professionally installed. The delivery people weren’t subcontractors but actually worked for the store from which we made the purchases. If you are in the Syracuse or Binghamton, New York area, drop me a line and I will be more than happy to give you the name of the store.

It was very tough getting used to the stainless steel after a lifetime of white.

And I will be honest, the electric oven scares me. It air fries, convection oven, dehydrates, proofs bread, roasts, bakes, broils, and even loads my dishwasher (or so I told my brother).

But those major household purchases are done. Whew.

This past holiday season I went through my annual ritual of being afraid I wouldn’t have enough good things to read over the break. This hearkens back to the days before Kindle and electronic downloads and multiple library cards, when I would have to load up on titles from my local library, which would allow me to borrow only ten titles at a time. What if it snowed and I couldn’t get back to borrow more books? The heart palpatations were real.

My fear has since expanded into worrying that I won’t have enough good books to read ever–not confined to the end of December, but at any time. Period. Which is totally silly, because I now have four library cards and the ability to read electronically. I subscribe to newsletters that offer up discounted books.

So the emphasis has switched to good books. Compelling stories. When I reach the end of book that I can’t put down, I start wondering if I’ll be able to find another tale that keeps my attention. One that makes me stay awake at night until I’m so groggy I can’t hold my eyes open and the Kindle falls from my fingers.

Lately it feels as if I have stumbled into books that sound wonderful but fail to deliver. Stories I have to force myself to finish. Sometimes, getting through the opening chapters is worth the slog, but most other times, well, no. So I worry that reading will no longer enterain me.

We all have our foibles. Thank you for listening to mine.

PS: Tomorrow (Jan 8) is National Joy Germ Day. Spread some happiness!

Let me say, for the record, I am not a huge fan of Christmas movies. My favorites are While You Were Sleeping, The Ref, and Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol.

The trailer for The Holiday was at the end of another film I’d recently watched (Blue Smoke, a Lifetime movie made from my favorite ever Nora Roberts book). For some reason, I ended up purchasing three of the movies advertised at the end of the feature. Of the three, I thought I would like this one the least. Since I haven’t watched the other two, I can’t say whether or not that is true, but I can say I didn’t dislike this movie as much as I thought I might.

The cast, for the most part, was delightful. Except Jack Black. I do not know who thought Jack Black would make a good romcom hero, but their drugs need to be replaced. Kathryn Hahn and John Krasinsky had very minor roles with maybe 5 lines of dialogue each. Rufus Sewall portrayed a delightfully smarmy jerk. I choked when I saw a cameo of Dustin Hoffman in a Blockbuster store. Kate Winslet, Eli Wallach, Cameron Diaz, and Jude Law were all wonderful in their roles.

The story is about an American woman and British woman who swap houses for Christmas. Both are coming off bad romantic break-ups. Cameron Diaz’s character has a quirk that will be predictably resolved by the end of the movie. Kate Winslet’s character provided what I thought was the stronger plot thread, but it wasn’t a developed as fully as it should have been. And the whole Jack Black “romance” was just stuck in there for her, maybe so they could categorize the film as a romcom. I thought he and it were awkward and out of place. Maybe a differect actor would have made romance more believable.

I thought the pacing was off. Most of the movie seemed to focus on the Cameron Diaz-Jude Law romance, which was sweet and nice and had a cozy plot twist, but the Kate Winslet storyline with Eli Wallach as her mentor had real teeth and could have been deeper and much more powerful than it was. Without Jack Black.

But I still liked the movie.