I was in my twenties, recently graduated from college and, like countless art majors before me, waiting tables for a living. Lunches in a place downtown near the courthouse. Served the legal crowd.

It wasn’t a bad gig. I made enough money to survive and had plenty of time for art.

But I was surviving, not living. I shared a 1920s duplex in the student ghetto across the street from the university. My neighbors were other students, winos, hookers and over medicated residents of halfway houses.

I walked everywhere out of necessity. Or rode my bike. It cost too much to run my car, even with 25 cents per gallon gas at the cheap place. I paid cash for everything and lived close to the bone. My car sat in the driveway for months at a time. Someone broke into it once. Smashed out the window and pulled out the ignition. Trying to steal it, I guess. Not much of a car thief, couldn’t even hot wire a 69 VW Bug.

‘Wino’ probably isn’t pc these days. But that’s what they were. Guys who sat in the bushes alongside the buildings, or on the curb, drinking from bottles in brown paper bags. Some of them were friendly. Even polite. Some were interesting to talk to. One of ’em offered me some peppermint schnapps. Another took a crap on the bumper of my car.

City living.

I remember walking home from work one day. I was all sorts of cranky, for one reason or another. The six blocks of urban wasteland between my job and my house was always challenging but this day even more so. I was tired of panhandlers and crazies. Tired of the hookers, the boys in sequins looking prettier than me. I walked with that thousand yard stare, refusing to make eye contact or acknowledge anyone. I just wanted to get HOME.

Get away from me people. Shoo. Don’t bother me. Not today. NOT EVER AGAIN!!!

I was about two blocks from home, marching in my self-rightous huff when a woman suddenly veered into my space. Got right up into my face. Scared the bejezus outta me. Seriously. She was one of the regulars on the street. And she was as crazy as a loon.

“Fix your skirt.” And then she was gone. Poof, just like that.

Fix my skirt? I looked down and holy crap! The static fairy had done a number on me. My skirt was up around my waist….

Sigh… Well, that’s kind of how I felt today, thirty-somethin’ years later. Exposed. Like I’m walking around and don’t know that I’m nearly naked. Only this time it’s in cyberland.

I’m building a new website for the nonprofit where I work. I was showing my supervisor what I had so far and it was looking good. Real good. Then I said, let’s look at it on the pc, just because… We both use Macs, you see. So she pulled it up on the pc and it looked. like. shit.

Seriously. Nothing lined up. Large luscious photos were little bitty limbaugh weenies icons. Nothin’ to ’em. The columns were catty wumpus, the layout all screwed up. WTF???

So I decided to check out my site. AAWK. My beautiful site that I worked so hard to get just right, that is out for the world to see 24/7, was not the way it looks on my Mac.

I drove home thinking OMG!!! Do I have to rebuild everything? Start from scratch? And then the logic fairy paid a visit. She doesn’t come that often so when she does I listened up. Usually. Logic fairy thought maybe it’s the browser.

Browser? I use Chrome. But I have Firefox and Safari on my computer as well. So I did a test. Opened them up, pulled up the website and IT LOOKED NORMAL.

YAY!!!

The pc uses Explorer. Knowing where I work, it’s probably an old edition. But maybe not. So here’s where you can help.

This is a screen shot of my home page. Part of it anyway but enough to give you the idea. This is what it’s SUPPOSED to look  like. If it DOESN’T look like this on your computer would you please contact me and let me know. And tell me the details. Computer, browser…that stuff.  I’d be forever grateful and appreciate you to no end.

Because really, I’m not the kind of girl who walks around cyberland with my skirt up around my waist. At least I hope I’m not.