Oh dear,
did I just say that?
Clearly,
I stink at chitchat.
FYI:
Do NOT start a poke war with somone who
has OCD tendencies
and who
owns a smart phone.
It is futile. You will NOT win.
I try to ignore the message. I try to forget about it. But I can’t. I MUST poke back. I MUST keep the left side clear of notifications.
Just so you know.
My niece Nic has chicks. In fact, there are four and they are no longer chicks. They are egg-laying (or soon to be) chickens. Her and her husband and their two children live in a suburb of a small metropolis. I’m not going to give you any more detail than that because their town isn’t zoned for chickens. So, if they get busted they will have to turn their chickens in or worse, turn their chickens into supper. That would be a sad day and will not happen on my account.
I hate making decisions. Life would be a lot easier for me and probably more enjoyable for other people if I didn’t have to make a choice. Ever. My decision making process is typically a three step process. First, I agonize and worry about choosing wisely. Second, after I make a decision I worry if I made the right choice. This is almost always followed closely by the third step, wishing I chose differently. Choices could very well be the death of me. Okay, that’s a little dramatic. Let’s just sum up, I really prefer not having to choose.
My friend Google is at the ready with any question I may have even if it’s just to settle idle curiosity. For example, I’ve already googled Paul Hogan and Linda Kozlowski. Yes, AMC is playing its Can’t Get Enough of…Crocodile Dundee I & II this week. This means I have watched the same part of Crocodile Dundee II for the last three nights. If I piqued your curiosity, Paul is about 20 years older than Linda and they have been married since 1990.
Trivial pursuits aside, Google has become a valuable tool for me to make informed (or misinformed) decisions. Always at the ready, it’s a sophisticated 8-Ball. It does its best to give me a plethora of options. Although, sometimes I could do without the snooty attitude the way it corrects me. “Did you mean…” Is that really necessary? If it’s smart enough to figure out an optional way of saying what I typed then couldn’t it be gracious enough to discreetly fix my error? I should think so.
It is ever at the ready and with my iPhone easily accessed. I can ask “What should I have for dinner?” Sure, I still have to make a choice but it’s a matter of scanning through a page of options. Let’s be honest, I’m easily swayed by the more alluring websites. That cuts my decision making time by at least half.
The other day I test drove a couple of vehicles. I gave my phone to my niece and by the end of the drive we had an idea of the safety ratings and consumer comments. I chose not to buy either vehicle – and I felt pretty good about it.
While planning my vacation I asked, “What is there to do in Cody?” Before I even left for my trip I discovered the answer was, “Not a whole heck of a lot.” It told me the route we should take and even how much I could expect to pay for gas.
“I need a job,” and “Where should I live?” are two recurring questions I like to ask. At a moment of desperation, I even typed, “I need a life.” No matter the question, there’s always a page of possible solutions. And usually a correction – “Did you mean wife?” (sigh) No, I meant life.
Google has become a verb. Just like Xerox is synonymous with making copies, Google means researching online. It doesn’t matter which search engine is used, “You can find anything you need by googling it.” Too bad Bing wasn’t first because I’d rather say, “You can find anything you need by binging it.” Oh well.
The younger generation might pause one day and reflect, “How did the older generation ever find anything without Google?” I had the original Google. It was called, Mom. My mom happened to be one the smartest people I’ve ever known. Unfortunately, thanks to hereditary roulette, I received her temperament instead of her smarts. Dang me! At least with Google I now have a fighting chance in making decisions. And pretending I’m smart.
Theworldiscrowded,
withnotalotofspace.
Ithoughttomyself,
HowcanIconservespace?
Whatcanbemypart
Totakeuplessspace?
Thisismysolution,
Tonotwastespace.
Wanttojoinme
Andsavesomespace?
You know those “special” individuals that find the Virgin Mary in a grilled cheese sandwich? Or one of the Patron Saints in the bark of a tree? Be honest – could you see the image before it was suggested? Me neither.
Ah, another birthday. Another year older. NOT! So says the 90’s comeback. Thanks to my annual birthday road trip, another birthday could not find me. I am still twenty-nine and holding. Oh yeah, I’m sticking to that theory even if it is without proof.
As you read these very words, I am almost three hundred miles away from home. It’s the first weekend of August which means it’s time for my annual Birthday Road Trip. This tradition started based on my self-made theory that a birthday can’t find you if you’re not at home. So, I’ve been 29 for ten years. On a side note, by the 6th 29th, however, I didn’t feel very twentyish.
Since I went to New York for a weekend in June, my pocket book demanded a low key road trip this year. Yellowstone National Park it is. FYI, Yellowstone is in Wyoming – not Montana. Montana has successfully marketed their sliver of the park as West Yellowstone. Check out a map though. You’ll be surprised how little of the park is in Montana versus Wyoming. Yes, I might have a small issue with the whole West Yellowstone claim to fame. I’ll let it go for now, though.
This year the trip is just going to be Bubba and me. That’s okay. She is on this whole kick of being an adult now and insists on moving to Utah at the end of the month. Something about being closer to a certain boy. Blah, blah, blah. This trip could be our very last road trip together. Why is everyone moving to Utah? And no, I’m not convinced to move back. I’ll just make new friends and miss my old ones.
But for this weekend, we will enjoy Wyoming. First, we will stop at stinky Thermopolis and swim in the hot springs. Then we will make our way to Cody and probably sleep pretty well after our swim stop. Saturday we will spend the whole day in the park. No hurry. No agenda. Just take our sweet time. We’ll come home on Sunday.
Sounds like a pretty good birthday to me.
I want a new job. A magical new job would work best for me. No, I don’t expect to perform HarryPotter Houdini’s all day. That would be a silly. However, I do have a list of demands I’d like met.
Requirements that must be met at my next employment:
Is this too much to ask? If I sound like I could make a valuable contribution to your company please hit like.