with this cell phone, tablet, facebook filled world is it makes you have the expectation that you can get ahold of someone all the time. And then, when you cant, when you have exhausted all the wonders of technology and they dont pick up, text back or respond to an IM,,, your head goes to the worst place. Ridiculous. Only to be cured by a ringing phone.
will go down as one of my most miserable in years. Not the worst day, not a terrifying or mournful day, but damn miserable. miserable. Started with a miserable work meeting, followed with a miserable work phone call, drug on with me whining to my boss about how miserable my day was going. And then, in the middle of the miserableness of it all, the server went down. No computer, no hard drive, no email. Are you kidding me? How, in today’s business world are you supposed to get anything done like this? So miserable me sat on my miserable floor and sorted through the miserable mess of a filing system that my predecessor left me. Miserable.
And then I get home and no gin. or wine. Miserable.
I think I’ll move to Australia.
My husband is a man of few words. Not prone to bursts of emotion or long dialogs — he surprised me this morning when, as I passed him on my way to the coffee pot, he said “that case you made for your kindlefire is adorable” Thats right, this guy, the Italian Stallion incarnate — said my kindle case was adorable. How to react? If I laughed and said “adorable? Thats a new one for you….any other commentary this morning?” He would have clammed up and gone back to tieing his work boots. If I thanked him and asked if it was the heart fabric or the felted trim that he liked he would have given me “the look” and mumbled something about being hungry for scrambled eggs…
Now, truth be told, he bought me the kindle and is happy that his generosity has been rewarded with me using it DAILY , but I cant remember, in 34 years of marriage his ever spontaneously commenting on the physical attributes of anything. No ” I like the fabric on that couch” or “your purse matches your shoes” or “that camoflauge shirt matches my camo jacket”. Nothing, Nada.
Cracked me up. My kindle case is adorable.
Then, it hit. “You should make a bunch of them and sell them”. AAh….now I get it. Im retiring in a few weeks, the guy is trying to drum up income.
Gotta love him.
My dad sort of slid feet first into the 21st. century. I remember him being all excited about the year 2000– he had read just enough to worry about all the cars and computers in his beloved General Motors going kaput, or stalling on the highway. He was worried about the security of the United States, after all, the computers hadnt been programmed to switch over to 2 in the thousands place…right?
But once it was all over and we all survived, and he tested to make sure all the devices in his house were working, he settled in, sort of complacent but confused by the intelligence of all the technology around him.
Things had changed a bit too fast for dad, he still expected to know the people in the bank, to be able to pick up vegetables in the grocery store and pop them in his mouth without worrying about food poisoning… he expected things to taste the same, and smell the same…as they had when he was a kid.
The last thing I remember him fixating on was Ginger ale. He’d buy only Canada Dry, because he had seen a commercial that proclaimed they made it with “real ginger.” He’d keep a bottle in the frig “here Gregg, try some of this,its made with real ginger” ( Gregg being my son in law, married to my oldest). He said it reminded him of years back when he used to dig up sasafrass root in the back yard and suck on it, savoring the taste of “root beer”….He actually used to do this with me growing up, and I remember the pungent smell of rootbeer on my hands after handling the piece of root. Dad loved his ginger ale….loved his root beer.
So, today, on the couch, fighting this flu that wont either fully appear or fully go away, instead choosing daily which symptom to rain down upon me, I turned on Top Chef. They were doing a “ginger” quick fire and spoke of the real ginger in canada dry gingerale.
A hundred memories came flooding back, dad at the kitchen table, can of Ginger ale in his hand. “Yep, thats good, thats real ginger. “
I miss him. Thanks Top Chef for bringing that vision into my head today.
Today I downloaded Tango. because my grandson Jax calls my cell phone so much that he knows the words to my ring back tone. seriously. so I thought he’d enjoy talking to AND seeing grammy! Whenever he wants! Interestingly enough Jax lives about 12 minutes away — i see him almost daily — wrap my arms around that little cuddler — but , hey, if thats not enough, and he wants to speak to grammy, I will learn to tango.