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Motherhood, Apple Pie and Upgrading

September 25, 2012

“Upgrading really is as American as apple pie,” I thought while cutting up some crisp Cortland apples Friday night for a fresh Fall pie. Every couple minutes though, I’d slide to “gadget corner” at the end of my kitchen counter to perform this on my Galaxy Nexus phone:

1. Go to Settings -> Apps -> All
2. Find Google Services Framework
3. Tap on Force Stop
4. Select Clear Data
5. Head back to the Verizon Galaxy Nexus’ Settings, go to About, and check for a System Update.

Nothing. No update in spite of my “insider” trick to force one. I was desperate for this upgrade to Android “Jelly Bean,” so every few minutes the process above replayed. Then, around 8:30 pm the following text exchange occurred between (Play)Joyce and (Phone)Boy:

(P)J: Will u come over & chill with me later?
(P)B: Maybe… Making apple pie. (Translation: not unless this upgrade kicks in.)

My girl was in full-on planning mode, getting yard-sale ready to sell stuff she bought (mostly from consignment or Estate sales) to the unwashed (some washed) masses. It’s her own little velocity of money contribution to our economy. You may be wondering when “motherhood” will be worked into the story, but not yet…

The apples texture resembled a mere 15 minutes of baking instead of the 45 they actually did. The lesson? Like performing an upgrade of enterprise software, making an apple pie should be left to those who know what they’re doing… Whatever. It’s pie. I shifted back to the (non)Apple of my eye, the Nexus. After 20 or more tries, now up in my evil lair, eureka! It finally worked! Jelly Bean and all her spectacularness was streaming colorful beans of jelly through the airwaves and into my phone! Come to think of it, Workforce Central has included many spectacular new features of her own over the past few years, with hundreds of customers upgrading, but “six-three” just isn’t a sexy name. I think our next version should be called “crème brulee” or “pepperoni pizza.” Those would drive some excitement.

Meanwhile, Saturday at the yard-sale… I held (4 y/o granddaughter) Maddy’s hand as she scanned toys for sale. Then it happened. Dread struck my very soul as I saw the threesome struggling to breathe while jammed together in a box of crappy, no-name toys. I may have shrieked. (In trouble)Joyce came over and asked, “What’s wrong?” “This is what’sss wr-wrong,” I stuttered through tears… “You were trying to SELL Simba, Timon AND PUMBA!!! What kind of a mother are you???”

I saved them and will return the trio to (I’m still disappointed in)Joyce’s son when we visit the junior at the University of Vermont this weekend.

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