During my daily rounds through the New York Times this morning, I came across an article that not only discussed my coveted Miss Kindle2, but it also touched on the concept of judging people by the book they have in their hand. The mood of the article leaned against the age old practice of judging a person by their cover. If a person has a Kindle2 in their hand, can they be book assessed?

My first thought was, does it really matter? Second thought, I’d think anyone that paid $359 dollars to enhance their ability to read books shows a hefty commitment to reading. Third thought (bonus Kindle realization) I could read a hot and basic, bodice ripping– muscle bulging romance in public and no one would know the difference! Cloak of mystery!

Honestly, the article had me step back and wonder….do I judge people by the book jacket they cradle in their hands?

I do know I pay attention. I spend time in the coffee shops and admit I will strain my neck in the most un-obvious ways to see what books people are reading. I admit when I’m standing in line at the bookstore I’ll tilt my head, ever so slightly, slide my eye’s to the side and try to read the spines of  books people are getting ready to purchase. Indeed. I am curious.

So what do some books visually translate as? Is Tennyson the equivalent of a fine tailored suit and  Jude Deveraux is spandex pants and a skin tight tank-top? What exactly is the judging significance of one book over the other, if any? I also wondered where I fit into that line of jury and trial. I realized I must not care what people think of my book choices considering I’ve previously admitted on this blog that I dislike many classic novels and enjoyed the Twilight series. I also love e.e. cummings and Shakespeare but I am not above reading a bodice ripping, sweat dripping romance in times of desperation. My book stock must swing wildly between beer battered chicken and a fine wine on a warm evening. Gasp, maybe I’m just the average middle class American when it comes to my reading choices.

The question they proposed on the article was, “How do you judge people by the covers of the books they read?” Do I judge? Do you?

Is it about judgement or is it actually about discovering what other people are interested in? I can’t imagine saying to someone, “I’m sorry, you have a book by Nora Roberts, we can no longer associate, that’s beneath my level of reading.” Gavel slam, Official judgement. Judging by book covers borders a snobbery with no clear definition. Basically all books are subjective to individual tastes. So whats the point?

I know (the majority of) others don’t rash judge in this manner. At least I hope not. As I’ve told my daughters over the years, I don’t care what you are reading, just so long as you are reading……something….anything….everyday……….

#BlogFind: Speaking of books. Recently I won 11 books *cha-ching* from this blog and I always enjoy going over to read the book reviews, enter new book contests, read Author interviews and generally expand my book mind. I suggest getting to know Drey @ Drey’s Library. Your book cover stock is bound to go UP!

I’m still traumatized over my 15 hours of blog-be-gone wipe out. A post blogmatic syndrome that may linger and have far reaching effects. If I was afraid of pushing upgrade buttons before, I’m terrified now. That little experience could elevate my previous trepidations of technology into an all out techphobia.

I can see it, 3 years from now I’ll be envious. All of you will have high tech blogs that can serve coffee and a muffin via hightech applications and I’ll still be using my 2009 Athalupa 2.2.3 version of a template. My template will need a cane, wear dentures and have long flowing gray hair and I still won’t push the upgrade button~

Since I have seen the strobe light beyond the pearly gates of Internet oblivion I should write something profound today. Surely this qualifies me to write a book about the feeling of loss and non-existence my 15 hour flat-line represented.  Now that I have experienced official error-404 Blog death, and then resurrection, shouldn’t that make me a messiah, or a blog prophet?

At the very least, a newborn blog psychic! Have you lost touch with an old blog? A former blog read, perhaps I spoke with them on the other side of the light. Send me an email, I’ll see what I can do. I’ve got enhanced outter limits connections now (the kind you can only obtain from being pronounced officially blog dead, error-404) and they have a message for you.~ Standard fees apply and I do take paypal. 

My friends on facebook all suggested cake in celebration of my second coming. Ehh, ok, I’ll do cake, but it does fall short of the national holiday I was thinking of petitioning for.

You are correct Marc, my appreciation level for my blog is off the charts now. I will never neglect it again. On my honor! If you love something set it free, if it comes back, you’re meant to be together right? I got it, loud and clear.

Some of you may be wondering how Robert is faring……..Well, he has been extremely proud of his abilities to revive Provocation via the phone with tech support. I can’t tell you how many times he said, “Who’s the Man! Who saved your website, I did, thats who” yesterday. And then he would strut off like a model walking down a catwalk. Not once did the words “accident, delete, whoops on my part, I messed up, my fault” hit the line of thinking.

Men. Are. Interesting. Perplexing. The way they can twist any situation into a hero status- knight in shining armor scenario. As woman we have something that has been passed through generations of female genes. It’s timeless. We have choice. We can remind men the only reason we had a problem in the first place was because they did something BAD, thus squishing their cherished ego and manly status. Or……..we can choose to let them bask in their afterglow. We’ll smile a lot. Thank them. Let them marinate in their solution based glory without pointing out the obvious facts that lead to the need for resolution. Yesterday. I was grateful, appreciative and nice. Promise.  

Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m not preparing a reasonable settlement for pain and suffering due to temporary enjoyment loss and mental separation from my blog. Miss Kindle2, a day at the spa, shopping…(thank you for the comments and suggestions ladies, I like how you think!) ….it’s on the list. We ladies may choose not to kick a guy in the balls when he’s overjoyed by his hero status, but, we do not forget and we will eventually receive atonement.

Let me just say, NO I DID NOT PUSH THE DAMN BUTTON.

However.

At approximately 8:45 p.m, on April 22^nd, 2009, I lost Provocation of Mine (d) into a soul sucking, gut punching black abyss of Internet Hell. I shall now call this infamous      15 hour time frame:

“When The Husband HIT some goddamn f**king button.”

Now I understand some of you may not have realized that the Earth had stopped spinning. That life as we know it had been altered between the hours of 8:45 p.m. last night until 12:20 p.m. today. Unless you had tried to visit Provocation between those hours you would not have been aware of the subtle air changes and the dramatic seek & rescue that was being enacted. I hope you enjoyed your peaceful bliss. Really I do. Sleep well?

Some of you did try to come by and was greeted with that oppressing Error 404–Not Found. Some of you emailed. Some of you twittered me. I thank you. I found great sympathy and comfort in those emails and power packed 140 messages. This is what went down………..

8:32 p.m: I had achieved official blog perfection. Beautiful Heather had sent the instructions for removal of ugly gray bar bullets on my blog, the only wart I had left to zap and I did it. I was exhilarated and at 8:36, I sent Heather an email stating we both rocked. I was on top of the website world. No more bullets and I had made that picture video for my blog. (2 bucks is in the mail by the way Heather)

 8:45 p.m. I clicked on my website to admire my bullet handy work. BUT instead of perfection, I get this ::Error 404-Not Found:: The shock was instant. Brain ramming into brick wall– splat.  

 Me: “Oh My GOD WHERE IS MY WEBSITE” as my eye’s sliced across the office to my husband who was logged onto our server host merrily deleting things  from his computer. “What DID YOU DOOOOOOOOOO???”

Husband:” What, nothing, I’m just cleaning up our files like I was told to do by that tech lady.”

Me: “It’s gone! GONE! My site is gone! Get it back. Get it back right this second. DO SOMETHING. Call tech support, backspace, undo, I don’t care but YOU get my website back up right this minute and if one hair, one single letter or line is out of place you will pay!!!”

Husband starts clicking things. “Ok, calm down, I’m sure it’s not GONE gone, Let me call tech support again, I’m sure it’s not a big deal. OH my God, all my websites are gone too! Oh shit!” (delayed panic surrounding his own sites was not a good move btw)  

Me, hyperventilating, “You should know, you’re life, existence as you know it,  is hanging by a thread right now.”

Calling Tech support from the States at 9 o’clock at night is not enjoyable. I applaud the abilities of those working in India, really I do. However 3 word sentences when one needs comforted and assured doesn’t do a lot for the soul. Things like “we work it” “we email you” “we understand” “hopefully find you” “24-48 hours you email” does not tie a pretty bow around all out anxiety attack.

This morning I woke up wayyyyy before my alarm clock. I guess I was hoping my Provocation would be like the resurrection of Jesus. I would get online, click on the link, and she would be smiling down on me with margins open wide and a new glowing halo atop her header. Instead I got the devils smile stretched across error–404.

So I prayed a lot, to the technology gods. Things like, “If you bring back Provocation, I’ll write everyday in a row for 60 days…..I’m sorry I claimed I was a technology Goddess when I posted that video I made…if you give Provocation back to me, I’ll back up, I promise!…If you let me have Provocation back oh powerful Techno Gods, I’ll never cuss at you again”

And then my mind turned to murder. Because HE pushed the damn button that murdered my precious website.  Murderous thoughts grew rampant as the morning wore on. I thought about it. I would bet if I had my lawyer get a jury full of bloggers, I could get off based on sympathy alone. They would understand the irrational panic and temporary insanity of losing their blogs. They would shed a tear for me~

I managed to make it through the morning without committing any felonies. Barely. At noon today, the husband was back on tech support begging for (marriage) mercy and finally, he and them, did something so the world was spinning again. Provocation came back to life.  (He’s acting pretty proud of that fact now. Strutting around like a peacock. I think he sees himself as a hero for pushing the buttons to bring Provocation back, personally I see him as damn lucky)

All I can say after such an experiece is this: Go home, hug your blog. Give it love, and a few hugs. Kiss the screen it walks across. Honor a comment I got just last week, Pauls haunting words that would not stop chanting in my ear for 15 hours, “Backup, backup, backup.” No blogger should ever have to go through the gut busting terror I’ve just suffered. No One.

This is my version of an almost wordless Wednesday. I now consider myself up to date with the program of personal visual sharing.

Hell, I consider myself a technology GODDESS for laboring over this thing and making it actually work!

~Happy Birthday To My Mother Anna today. Love you to the Moon and Back~

~~~I will resist (so bloody hard for a word glutton) writing more~~~ 

I shall deem this, Follow Up Tuesday. I would have waited for Friday because Follow up Friday sounds swanky, however, it’s 10:52 a.m and I’m desperate for something to write, as in, today. Bear with me, it’s the best I could come up with (good lord, I have 9 more days, and words are getting thin)

I found the book Waiter Rant online thanks to the kind arrows a few of you left for me on this entry Blogs To Books~ Now, if I had dear Miss Kindle2 in my possession, it would have already been zapped via insta-gratification through the Kindle airwaves, but since I am still without ultimate book coolness, I have to wait until it arrives in the mail from Amazon. Thank ye souls of mucho information.

Bandon Hiding her Head From the Camera

Bandon, my sweet and shy Golden Retriever is great. She’s still ducking from the camera like it’s going to laser her from afar. My black lab Sako is still feigning deafness on a daily basis and as much as I’d like to be just as stubborn, it simply doesn’t work when she’s wandering down the street. The 3 cats are still reigning Queen Beeotches around here and the Shit-Zoo is still unexplainable.

Yes Chris, Robert is Tall. He’s 6 foot 5 inches. He passed my pre-set height requirement for Husband consideration. Not that I’m height racist, swear, it’s just when it comes to other halves, I didn’t want the guy I’m with eye level with my breasts. Call me crazy, but us ladies have a hard enough time keeping men’s focus off that area, hence, my guy needed to be tall enough to look me in the eyes first, then he can look down.

NO! I haven’t pushed the Damn Button, Rebecca of little technology faith is FEARFUL ~~~ I am still holding out. I tried to get Heather, of solid faith to be the guinea pig and push her athulupa button, but evidently she’s already upgraded. I also offered Heather a dollar to figure out how to get rid of those gray bullets that annoy the hell out of me over to the left, but evidently I need to sweeten the pot because I’m still waiting. 2 dollars? (smile and you know I’m kidding! Ehh, but seriously, I’ll give you 2 bucks)

Thank you to those who went and voted for Provocation of Mine (d) at the bloggers choice awards. Much appreciated!

In case you were wondering what the ultimate decision was about the lip ring and potentially modified daughter. Let me tell you. After a good pow-wow, which both teenage daughter and Mother resisted any and all eye rolling, huffing, puffing and glares. It was decided that if Shelby would still like a lip ring at age 18, more power to her. But at this point in time we settled on double ear piercings. I’m good with that. By the way, I tossed out the entire making out theory you all had. Worked pretty damn well if I might say so myself. You all deserve a pat on the back! Well done. Parents unite!

Ok and lastly, this is for Mary who nudges in the most subtle ways. Like a bat upside the head (kidding darlin, kidding)