Cell phones are like leaf blowers to me: convenient, but obnoxious as hell. Call me Cro-magnon, but I’ve never seen the appeal of being reachable 24/7. However, I am slowly crawling into the twenty-first century.
I resisted having one until a road-side breakdown in 2000 convinced me I should. I have to admit, the flip phone’s come in handy since moving to a ferry-dependent island. Some months I rack up five or six minutes.
I’ve watched the smart-phone revolution from the sidelines, fascinated and horrified by pouting selfies, thumb-obsessed diners and throngs of commuters with bent necks and dropping heads.
On the upside, it’s hard to argue against the convenience of an e-reader, a GPS and the Internet, portable and at my fingertips.
So, I finally broke down and bought one. I haven’t yet figured out how to get my contacts into it, and I still prefer talking to someone over doing the thumb dance, but give me ten years – I’ll get there. I’m already enjoying the convenience of catching up with Twitter and Facebook while on the ferry, and I love being able to share “in the moment” pics from live events, like when I attended When Words Collide in Calgary.
But be warned! Pic-sharing convenience has a dark side. Last week I shared a piece of art I wish I hadn’t. Okay, it felt like art at the time, but it was my lunch. I’ve since crawled back up that slippery slope, but I have nightmares of making fish lips and snapping selfies in the bathroom.
Have you taken a slide down that slippery slope?
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A freight trained called summer is thundering by, leaving backyard parties and BBQs in the din of its wake. Thankfully, it still has a full head of steam with miles of summer track yet to travel. And what a glorious summer it’s been so far, with good company, an abundant fruit crop, and plenty of fresh salmon.
Living on Denman Island with roadside produce stands and a thriving Saturday market, we mark the passing season by which fruit crop is ripening. First came the cherries, then the loganberries and blueberries. We started picking blackberries a week ago, about the same time the transparent apples started falling from the trees, and yesterday we harvested the apricots.
Happily, the abundance doesn’t stop there. In book news, I recently had the pleasure of being interviewed by Karen Oberlaender. Check out our conversation in her short and snappy “
We said goodbye to our sweet Miss Molly yesterday. If I ever make it to those pearly gates, I’m going to have a word with someone about the lifespan of dogs. It’s far too short and I’m not sure my heart can take any more holes.
When she got released from the twelve-step undergarment program, she got hooked on shoes. If we left her alone, she’d gather an oddball collection and keep them safe on the bed. She even managed to carry one of John’s dusty, steel-toed boots, complete with the unopened one-litre water bottle he’d shoved inside, up to the bed in the 5th wheel when we lived in Mexico.
Other dogs and cats, however, weren’t fooled by the cute factor. They knew if Molly visited them, she would beeline it for their chow, and she enjodidn’t discriminate by brand or species. She’d clean out a budgie’s dish if she could reach it.
Do you know that feeling? Like you’ve just crossed the finish line of a gruelling marathon, but you’re the only one in the race. Hands on hips, you catch your breath as you look about and wonder, “What now?”