I Blame Gemini

           I know there are some people who enjoy having one’s Google history transfer to each device that they use. They find it convenient.  I find it annoying.  I don’t want what I search on my computer to be on my phone or vice-versa.  I use my phone to occasionally look up different search options to help me with answers to puzzles.  I don’t need that on my computer.  And I don’t need Gemini to make suggestions based on my history.

          The first time I downloaded it, I didn’t know what I was in for and have tried to ignore every update that is given.  If I don’t choose a time the phone does it for me.  I DIDN’T WANT IT!  Grrrr

          So there was one time it seemed to transfer numbers from previous contact lists I had made.  Okay.  That will save me from having to add them later.  But why the rush?  Why not just give it to me to begin with instead of a year and a half delay?  Then there’s the reminder that I have duplicate phone numbers.  Well, of course I have duplicate phone numbers!  Does the system want me to merge them.  I said yes.  But transfer is not necessarily a smooth one.

          Two weeks ago my sister called.  The ID indicated that it was “probably aunt Shelly” what?  I hadn’t saved her number under a phrased.  Perhaps Jaime had.  I hadn’t thought much about it until there was a group text made to several members of the ward.  It’s contents are Kim, Gary, Father, Ang . . . . Father?  Who’s father?  I looked it up and found Richard’s number attached.  What the heck is going on?

          I started to scroll through my contacts and found all kinds of names that Jaime had made reference to.  How did all her contacts transfer over to my phone?!?!?  I showed her and she said I could delete them.  One at a time?  I have better things to do than go through my contact list or phone messaging or anything just to clean it out.  What?

          I handed Jaime my phone and she had it cleaned out within a few minutes saying she hoped that wouldn’t mess up her own phone.  I think it did.  But not to the same degree.  I told her it was alright if she had deleted everything and I could just start over.  Thus far I have not had to. 

          At least I had actual names and not the nicknames she once used for everybody.  Brother 1, Brother 2, Brother 3, Kidnapper, Coffee Table . . . now I will get occasional reminders – though I hadn’t understood the first one to be related to the invasion phone switch but had received said message shortly after all her phone numbers made their way into my phone.  I don’t even know what event appeared but it was to take place in August.  Oh, thank you for the heads up.

          Today’s pop-up was reminding me of the wedding on October 20.  I will have to ask Jai if she has a wedding scheduled to attend that day.  Not loving the AI!  I need to return to Consumer Cellular.  They never messed with my phone!

I Like My Clothes Baked, Not Tossed or Smoked

                When we first moved to our house in Tri City, Roland set up a clothesline between two trees.  Initially, he tried the pulley thing so that I could hang the clothes from one position.  It didn't work to our expectations and I spent that first summer walking up and down the line hanging and removing laundry.

          I like having the sun dry the clothes and I especially like how it can brighten the whites.  A light breeze will make it dry faster, but a strong wind will make the fabric stiff.  The towels feel like sandpaper either way, so generally, I just toss those in the dryer and add will add clothes that have been on the line but don't seem wearable.  Also, I don't enjoy ironing and would rather have the dryer remove the wrinkles for me.

          Roland did put in a new line so I don't even have to leave the porch.  Might appear tacky, but it really is nice to hang clothes that way.  And the lines are quite long and I have not filled them both.  That's quite wonderful also.

          I believed the temperature was starting to cool off as we were told high today would be 78 and low at 54.  But then it started going over 80 again, almost 90.  What???  Don't like that.  Especially when it appears to be overcast and doesn't rain at all.  Yesterday I realized that it wasn't even clouds that gave the gray appearance to the sky, but rather smoke from surrounding fires - though not as bad as California - or the fires that existed last year.  Not powerful enough to my nose that I can smell it. Still - enough smoke to give me a headache. 

          I don't guess I'll be hanging my clothes up for a while.  I mean, what's the point of washing them if I'm just going to dry them in the smoky air.  Gosh, darn fires.  I'm so grateful to all the firefighters.  May God bless and protect each one of them and their families.

Magic Hands

        I remember someone posting this cartoon to facebook. 

I laughed as I read it as I relate, both to having been the child and now the mother.  But it isn't just a relationship with mothers and children when this sort of magic happens.  It happens among husbands and wives as well - at least in our family.

        I remember many times mom would used to say to dad, "There is something wrong with the car"  and so he would take the problematic car to work and of course it would ride smoothly for him and give absolutely no indication of ever having any kind of behavior problem.  It seemed that way with all appliances - and it wasn't because my dad was mechanical minded.  I think electronics and mechanics just have a way of playing pranks on the female mind.

        Take my computer for instance - the pop-ups, the constant threats,

of course my computer is well behaved whenever Roland sits down to it.  After a month (or more) of not being able to pull up Yahoo on my PC, it appears just fine for him.  I didn't even need to give him the latest password that I had changed it too.  What????

        I am so not motivated to do any class work right now.  Frustrated that my husband and dad seem to have magic hands - unbeknownst to them.  I want magic hands!!!

Back Off!

            Roland comes off as a domineering parent sometimes.  Jenna absolutely hates it when she is told to comb her hair or wear a coat or dress nicely or what have you.  The more he makes suggestions or "harps" on the subject, the more rebellious she is about it.

            I will admit that I am not as observant.  For three and a half years I have tried fixing her hair and seeing it wreck before we get to school.  I stopped fighting.  Richard has only begun.  Although he has been a teenager, he's never been a girl.  We have hormones.  There seem to be chemical imbalance just before that time of the month.  Let it go.

            The rain in Oregon is different from rain in Utah.  Desert rain is wet.  It soaks you.  Oregon rain - even when it falls hard - feels more like a mist.  It hasn't soaked me the way Utah rain has.  We purchased a coat for Jenna.  Cute coat, but she refuses to wear it.  She doesn't like being told what to do and what not to do.  I've been there.  I get it.  I've told Roland that he needs to back off as she is rebelling and an accessory in her hair or a warm jacket has to be her idea, and if he's always harping, she is never going to come up with the idea on her own.  In fact, she'll do the opposite.

            Her zipper's broken (that child is HARD on zippers.  I don't know what she does, but she has not owned a coat or backpack yet in which the zipper hasn't broken) and because it was raining outside, Roland threw a rain poncho over whatever she was wearing.  She was crying and claimed she looked like a condom.  I've never heard anyone compare themselves to a condom before, and started laughing - which brought even more tears to her eyes.  That's silly.

            I noticed that Jenna removed the poncho between the driveway and the street.  She stuffed in near the bushes.  I know she will learn if Roland will just back off and give her some breathing room.  I think he's overcompensating - not having had the opportunity to raise his oldest two girls and being gone so much from knowing the boys - although I recall his harping on them too. 

            We learn at our  own pace.  We're not all equal.  I think Roland needs to realize we're not all him.