Techno [Philia] [Phobia]
I am writing from my temporary work station on the dining room table in the limited absence of my MacPro, on which all of my working documents are located. Hopefully, some movement on those (relatively minor) repairs later today, and I can’t complain: it took 3 and a half years to screw up the Mac, a feat accomplished in 3 hours on the former and forever-forgotten Dell. And BTW, for those who live in this area, there is a computer repair facility associated with Virginia Tech that is a certified Apple repair shop. I am happy to have not needed their services before, but glad to know they are so relatively close.
So, it happens that the new Mac operating system OSX 10.7, aka Lion, became available yesterday. I’m usually not an early adopter, but since I am chained temporarily to the MacBookPro laptop, I installed it over a period of numerous hours–a download of almost 4 GB. First impressions are limited; I’ve only just begun to tweak. But for those who users of Mac Mail, the new installation obliterated my filtered mailboxes, but has some nice features to aggregate related emails. The message search is much improved.
The major DUH! of the new OS so far is that the mouse scroll wheel works exactly OPPOSITE of the way we’ve used them for more than a decade–a real shift towards emphasis on touch-screen user interface–which is possible on the desktop only if I move from mouse to the mouse-pad-sized Mac Trackpad, which looks pretty slick, but I’m committed to another: the Logitech Revolution programmable, tricked out with hotkeys for my most-used apps: Evernote, Notational Velocity, Pathfinder and Chrome. (Asleep yet?)
My chief dread is getting the barely-luggable MacPro back. Because it lives in a very heavy custom-crafted oak desk (a barter with Phoenix Hardwoods for a large walnut log) it is possible to rebook all the connections only by spelunking. The mountain won’t come to Mohammed. I have to climb into the bottom of the desk with a headlamp and move in ways that even a younger human body would resist. Much huffing and cussing is required. And possibly a LifeAlert: I’ve reconnected my computer, and I can’t get up!