“You are not going out with that boy unless his parents are driving and that's that. I'm not just Spitting Grits here, young lady!”

. . . My father, John Thomas Cravey, USAF, to me in 1956.

Special Note: Gazing into the Y2K Snowglobe

 

Spittin’ Grits will be limping for a while. I hope you can bear with me.

Last week one day, I turned on my computer to get started on items to post to Spittin’ Grits. It came on, made that Windows sound you can’t hum, like the one on the television show Law and Order: Special Victims Unit, and the screen went blank. A stray lone cursor sat in the upper left corner, just blinking, like it had gone into a nutty coma. It had.

It appears my hard drive has caught the Y2K flu. It’s down, done, toast, like many thought would happen to computers worldwide at the turn of the millennium, Y2K. That time it didn’t really happen, except in people’s imagination. This meltdown really happened to my computer’s insides, the one with all my stuff on it.

 

I learned some years ago about losing every-thing on the hard drive: devastat-ing, like

being mugged. This time, I have an external back-up drive, which I trust was working properly. We haven’t gotten that far yet. I have also realized that my six-year-old Vaio laptop really doesn’t have the capacity for the projects I’m working on now, including Photoshopping pictures (lots of them), video editing, blogging, researching, and on and on.

So right now, I’m held captive by malfunctioning technology until my new system is built, shipped, and arrives. Then comes the migration of stuff to the new one. Then comes the learning process.

I plan to keep trying to post items during this semi-down time. Please keep coming back.

I’ll continue to gaze into my Y2K snowglobe (pictured above with the wind-up bug), looking for answers.

 

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