Which is what the computer had been urging. It seemed to think I should store everything — photo album to address book — in the cloud.
While I was supposed to be cooking up corn soup, I signed up for cloud computing. Right away the computer and the phone started colluding. Now instead of one thinking I've got a meeting at noon and the other claiming it's at 1, they both say I've two meetings, one at noon and one at 1. I don't consider this an upgrade. Yet.
But I know how these things work: resist, sigh, give in. Also, the word-processing and data-spreading and power-pointing programs no longer work. Even if I stomp outside and focus on the nearest cloud. When I complained to the guy at the computer store, he shrugged. Of course not, he explained. You agreed to that when you clicked "agree."
So, now I have twice the meetings and none of the documents. No recipes. No stories. No charts. Apparently there's a way to get it all back, but I'm still in the resisting phase. If I ever regain access to the archive, I'll be full of snappy tidbits about corn soup. In the meantime, I've got nothing but my cloudy memory to consult: Corn is delicious and crunchy on the cob, delicious and creamy when cooked into soup. Toss in both kernel and cob to release the sweet corn "milk," and the whole endeavor ends up as silky smooth as if it was strained through a cloud.
Corn soup is a pleasant distraction on a hot day when you don't have much to do. Or much you can do, given that all your work is locked in a cloud.
Prep: 15 minutes
Cook: 1 hour
3 strips bacon, cut thinly crosswise
4 cups corn kernels shaved from about 6 ears corn (reserve 3 cobs)
1 onion, chopped
Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
2 cups each: chicken broth, water