My desktop is back, but the backup I thought I performed is not on the USB drive that I finally found. I can recover what I thought I lost because most of it is posted on this page or in the cloud attached to one of the apps I use. Ah well, it’ll keep me out of the bars. It also means I’ll have to be a bit more careful about where and how I save my work. Lesson learned.
Yes, I do have a backup laptop. I monitor my pages and such when I’m out gallivanting the countryside—or when my desktop is down. I can’t get to my passwords and such, and it’s not powerful enough for me to play games. To say the last ten days were an enormous frustration would be understating my feelings. I accepted the facts and sucked it up. I put my big girl on panties and went back to what I used to do before I had a nifty computer to interact with stories—I picked up a book.
I’ve spent the better part of the last two weeks with my nose in a series. I read seven novels and eagerly await the publication of Book 8, which the author is calling “New Book.” I follow the author, where she offers tidbits of background and other nibbles of information. As a burgeoning writer, I’ll take all the passive hints, tips, and tricks I can get to improve my craft. I follow several well-known authors on social media with the intent of learning from successful writers. I’m starting a new series now, from a different author, one I have never read before. The writing style between the two was a shock to my system, but I’ll adjust (the new series is from another author I follow).
Since the update that thrashed my system, life in our house moved at warp speed. I live in the Rocky Mountain foothills, where volatile weather is the norm. Springtime often brings warmth and wet, heavy snow that melts quickly. The warm air from the plains clashes with the cooler air from the peaks and brings afternoon thunderstorms. Summers can be hot and desert-dry with temperatures in the upper 90s to low 100s, and humidity ranging from the mid-teens into the single-digits.
When hurricane season ramps up in both the Pacific Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico, the Jet Stream often funnels the moisture up the Rocky Mountains, where thunderstorms become threats to the landscape. By late summer, the air is parched, and the rain evaporates long before it can reach the ground. Lightning strikes and careless human activity have caused as much, if not more, damage as sparks from the heavens.
Add to the mix the effects of a changing global climate. Last week, a cold front dropped into our region just as a massive wildfire threatened our home. We were moments from evacuation from a wildfire when the temperatures dropped by record amounts, and the humidity rose with air pressure changes. In less than two hours, I watched the sky turn from orange-red to gray. I felt a difference in the tightness of my skin as moisture permeated the atmosphere. The aroma of petrichor as the sun set eased my mind, and I slept better than night than I had all weekend.
The overnight change from pre-evacuation because of wildfire to shoveling snow was a bit of a system shock, but we managed. Our house got more than a foot of snow. Which is gone now; such is life along the Front Range. Barring any other disturbances from Mother Nature (and monopolies), I will be returning to my regular posting schedule.
Thanks to you all for your patience. I appreciate your support.