Every family, it seems, has its own set of words for describing particular Lego pieces. No one uses the official names. “Dad, please could you pass me that Brick 2x2?” No. In our house, it’ll always be: “Dad, please could you pass me that four-er?

After weeks of preparation, my latest for The Morning News is published today, and I'm quite pleased with it. I suspect every Lego player has a list of their own unique Lego names in their head, even if none of them are ever spoken aloud to others. Once I realised that we had our own family taxonomy, I knew I wanted to find out what words other families used for the same pieces of plastic. This article is the result.

I've been given an Alphasmart Neo by a friend who didn't want it anymore, and I'm quite excited about it. If you've not encountered one before, I'll describe it. The Neo is a very simple device, a portable word processor with a full size keyboard. In fact, "word processor" is probably going a bit too far; since the Neo can't do any text formatting, it's better described as a text editor. A text editor that runs for hundreds of hours on 3 AA batteries, switches on and off instantly, and saves your work automatically.

And that's all it can do. It can't send email. It can't browse the web. It can't post to Twitter, update your Facebook status, or even display tables, bold, or italic text.

So why on earth would I be so excited about having it, then?

Well, partly because it can't do all those things. When you sit down with the Neo, you have no choice but to write. You cannot do anything else with the machine, so you might as well start typing. When finished, you plug it into your computer via USB and press the Send button; your text flows into an open document. Any open document, anything that accepts text. Yes, BBEdit or Scrivener if need be. It's a joy to see, so simple.

But it's not just about avoiding distraction. I can, when the need arises, stay away from distraction quite well. It's something that comes with writing for a living. So the other benefit of using a Neo is freedom - freedom from the hassle of lugging a heavy computer around (the Neo weighs almost nothing), freedom from endlessly hunting for wifi and power sockets. Earlier this year I briefly experimented with a netbook - an Asus Eee 901. A nice machine in many respects, but no good for writing on. The tiny keyboard was uncomfortable to use, and the battery life not enough to get me through a morning. Sure, it had all the connectivity anyone could want, but it was only after using it for a while that I realised connectivity wasn't what I needed. I've got all the connectivity I need on my phone. What I have greater need for is something on which I can write, whenever and wherever I like. The Neo is much closer to what I need.

Hunt around online for a few minutes and you'll find a hidden cult of journalists and authors using Neos or their sibling models. This shouldn't be a surprise to anyone, because the essential task of a writer is to get words out of the brain, through the fingertips, and into the computer. Short of speech-to-text software (which I'm also quite keen to try), no other technology is as good at this very simple, basic task as the Neo.

I say that, but I've only had this thing for a couple of days. I did manage to write 1000 words of fiction on it over a lunchtime, but that might be explained by new-gadget joy.

So I shall spend some time playing with it, trying it in different situations over the coming months. I'll let you know how I get on.

When Shelly arrived at her babysitting job that Friday night, Mr. and Mrs. Miller were already dashing out the door to their night out across town, leaving two hungry kids in the kitchen and a pizza on the counter. As was typical, Shelly hustled the kids through their dinner and baths and then plopped them in front of the television until about 10, when she roused them and led them up the stairs to bed.

Despite my lack of horror movie experience (see notes passim), I felt compelled to add my own snippet of silly strangeness to this collection of spooky story endings over at TMN.

And yes, my contribution makes no sense whatsoever.