Dan and I cannot help each other on the computer.

Neither one of us is particularly adept in this area. He knows what he learned from working with pharmacy computers for many years.

I know what 25 years of trial and error, error, error, error and error have taught me. Mostly I know how to use Microsoft Word.

When we try to sync our knowledge of computers, we crash.

We both know how to Google, how to send and receive emails, how to create and save documents, and how to use the scanner and printer attached to our respective computers.

He knows how to upload photos from his camera to his computer, and I know how to upload photos from my iPhone to my computer.

I routinely send my photos to Walgreen’s or some other place to have prints made. I then put the photo prints into albums.

Ordinarily, Dan does not have his photos made into prints.

Last night I sent about 100 Christmas photos to Walgreen’s to have them made into prints.

Shortly after I finished sending them, we discovered that Dan had some Christmas photos on his camera that were different from the Christmas pictures I had on my phone.

“Why don’t you send those to Walgreen’s and have prints made?” I asked him.

“I don’t know how to do that,” he said.

“I can show you. Sit down at your computer for a minute.”

“Oh, you mean ‘why don’t I send these to Walgreen’s and have prints made RIGHT NOW.’”

“You don’t have to do it now, but I’m going in about an hour to pick up my prints. If you send yours now, I can pick up your prints too.”

I should have known by the way Dan grimaced and ran his hand down the back of his head and neck that this was a bad idea.

We positioned two chairs in front of his computer. We sat.

“Go to Walgreen’s photo website,” I said.

In his search window he typed www dot Walgreens dot com.

“No, not that website,” I said. “Their photo website.”

“I’m sure I can get to their photo page through their main Walgreen’s website,” he said.

Sure enough he could, but it seemed like the long way around, to me.

The photo website opened.

“Now scroll down,” I said.

He scrolled.

“No. Wait! Stop! Go back up.”

“You said scroll down.”

“I know I did but you scrolled too far.”

He went back up.

“See where it says prints and enlargements?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Well, you want to have prints made, so click where it says prints and enlargements.”

 He clicked on prints and enlargements. A new screen appeared.

“Now, click on prints and enlargements again,” I said.

“Why?” he aked. “I already clicked on prints and enlargements.”

“I know you did,” I said, “but you have to click on it again.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I don’t know why. That’s just what you have to do,” I said.

“Why can’t I just click here where it says upload photos?”

“Oh, okay,” I said. “Sure. Click there.”

He clicked. He was then instructed to select photos.

His computer’s Pictures folder opened.

“Now,” I said, “This is where you go into your Pictures folder and select the pictures you want to have made into prints.”

“My pictures aren’t in my Pictures folder,” he said.

“Sure they are,” I said.

“No, they are not,” he said. “They are in Picasa.”

“Oh,” I said, “then go into Picasa and get the ones you want.”

“How do I do that?” he asked.

“Well, you just find your photos and select the ones you want to have prints made of.”

“I know,” he said. “How do I do that?”

“What do you mean ‘how do I do that?’”

“How do I go into Picasa and select photos?”

“I don’t know, Dan,” I said. “I don’t use Picasa but you do, so just open Picasa, find your photos, and select the ones you want to have prints made of.”

“I understand that, Deb,” he said. “What I am asking is HOW do I do that?”

This is where I made a big mistake. I reached across his chest, clicked his mouse, and opened his Pictures folder.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m opening your Pictures folder.” I said. “Your pictures have to be in there.  That’s where pictures always are. That is why it is called your Pictures folder.”

“My pictures are not in my Pictures folder,” he said. “They’re in Picasa.”

His pictures were not in his Pictures folder.

“All right, Dan,” I said, “show me the Christmas photos on your computer.”

He showed me.

“Now, click on the photos you want to have prints made of,” I said.

“How do I do that?” he asked.

“How do you click?”

“No, I know how to click.”

“Then click,” I said, “on the pictures you want to . . .”

“Deb,” he said.

His face was getting red.

“You are not listening to me.”

“Yes, I am,” I said.

“No, you’re not,” he said. “You are not answering the question I am asking you.”

“Yes, I am,” I said.

“No, you’re not. I feel just like Nicky in that Lucille Ball movie about the long trailer. You’re not making any sense.”

I stood and walked into the hallway.

“I’m going to Walgreen’s now to get my pictures,” I said.

“Thank goodness.”

 

(From my iPhone)