Steve Jobs

I am not a fangirl, though some may think I am. I'm really not enough of a geek to be a fangirl. I also got on the bandwagon late. Very recently actually. I never owned a IIe. I didn't understand the difference between the GUI on the pretty beige boxes and Windows. And, the kicker for me, I don't have a single Apple sticker anywhere. Not on a vehicle. Not on an old notebook. Nowhere.

But I am a fan. I liked my iPod Video. I was enamored by my iPod Touch. I was proud to buy Alyson a Shuffle. I pursued the iPad at first sight. And I was up at 3am to order my Verizon iPhone 4. It was as natural as buying a gallon of milk to choose the AppleTV.

And just as naturally, our household leans toward Apple. Jeff was hesitant, but after taking literally 10 minutes to "setup" his iPhone, he's converted. It is safe to say that he spends more time interacting with his iPad than interacting with humans.

I say all of this not to support or refute the label "fangirl.". I say it to praise and honor the man we lost last night. I recognize that there are many many people responsible for bringing a product from vision to market. But there is no doubt that the vision must exist first.

An interface that doesn't require a representational shift. An interface that infants can intuitively operate. Products that operate with touch and strike to the heart of communication barriers. Devices that appeal to all ages and even pets.

This is why we are sad, even if we don't "mourn." It is sad to lose the man behind such revolutionary changes.

That Did Not Take Long

I will admit, arriving home to my precious family was wonderful. I missed my crazy kids and even Jeff. It was a long week of driving and studying some not-so-light subject matter.

I got home Friday and resumed my roles. Cut pizza. Help kids into pajamas. Make sure the dog gets one last opportunity to pee before bed.

Saturday was grocery shopping, topped off with an awesome (yet very chaotic) Girl Scout outing to a college football game. Sunday was the Sorghum Festival (yes, sorghum; look it up). And here I sit on Sunday night working on laundry, contemplating the mountain of files that is undoubtedly on my desk at the office, and wondering if I will be able to get the Girl Scout meeting planned before 6:30 tomorrow.

It took no time at all to undo peaceful sleeping in the hotel room. It took no time at all to sap the energy instilled by invigorating training. And it took no time at all to slip back into my domestic rut.

Welcome home, mommy.