Another Electronic Device

A week ago I took a dive, I finally bought a laptop.  All my writer friends had been urging me to purchase the tool I needed to finish some articles.  They argued that if I had a laptop, I would have it available to write when “ideas” struck and therefore not forget when I returned to my desktop.

So I took the plunge. I should stop here and say that in early January I was forced to purchase a new phone. I had worn my keyboard down to the point where the print was unrecognizable.  The salesman was trying to sell me a smart phone.  I resisted, “I’m not smart enough for a smart phone.”   Obviously I’m not smart enough for the phone I bought, I’m still swearing at it to this day, hanging up on people, sending blank text messages, and deleting phone calls without listening to them.

Back to the laptop….. I brought it home, put the battery in and begin it first charge.  Like all good procrastinators, I let it sit for two days. Every evening for the next two days I would look at it, shrug my shoulders and walked out of the room.  It would wait.  I just wasn’t ready to deal with another electronic device.

I imagined the conversation that my new phone and the laptop were having when I wasn’t in the room.  Laptop: “All she did was plug me in and walk away for two days”   Phone:  “All she does is punch my screen and swear at me!”  

I couldn’t stand the thought of another electronic device getting the better of me.  I work in technology, 40 hours a week and technology has too many opportunities to get me.  I’m the person they bring directions to when testing a new download.  They want to know if the instructions are clear enough for the “average” person to understand.  Me?  The 51 year old who couldn’t figure out how to answer her touch screen phone for a week, I am average?   Below average is more like it.

  I finally setup the laptop one morning at 5 am, the new technology amazed me. It was searching wireless networks in my neighborhood while performing a multitude of other task. That morning I took it to the office with me and it amazed me even more. It new what I wanted before I knew what I wanted.  Little buggar.  I can see how this relationship is going to work.  I exist merely to click and plug in the power cord.

I’m just a pawn in this chess game.  I have to remember to keep the laptop and the phone in separate rooms for now; else there will be a remake of that movie….   The Rise of the Machines.

nepb

Ding Ding Ding

Ding Ding Ding.

We went out  for our typical Saturday night date.  We had decided to drive the short distance to the neighboring town to our favorite Mexican restaurant. The food is good, the Margaritas are better and the televisions surround you.  The wildcard NFL game was on and we were in need of FOOTBALL!

After getting in his car I was greeted by a dinging sound.  “We are being dinged”  “Oh yea, but it still has a way to go.”  I looked over at the instrument panel, the dinging was indicating low gas. I sat back in my seat and said “Mexican right”?  “Indeed”.  Trying not to be the nagging type, I didn’t suggest say anything, although in my head, the nagging voice persisted.  I suppressed it.

We lingered over dinner, conversation, the football game and halftime watching of a soccer game being played on a nearby television.  He’s a former soccer ref so we had to watch some of the match. Eventually the restaurant staff began that question session where you realize they want you to order more or leave so we finished the last little bit of our Margaritas and left.

We were deep in conversation and a half mile from my place when he said “ This is all kind of bad.”  It didn’t fit the conversation at all.  I couldn’t figure out at first why he was making that particular comment. I looked at him in the dark of the car, looked at what he was doing, trying to start the car, and then at the instrument panel.  All the indicator lights were on. “Oh.  I get it!  We have run out of gas!”

We made it to the top of the ramp but soon ran out of momentum. Sitting there wondering what to do, he said he would get out and push and I could steer. Now without going into detail let me just say that my Significant Other (SIO) should not ever be pushing a car. But being Mr. Chivalry, there was no way he was going to let me push the car.  He got out and began pushing the car until I saw the blue and red flashing light come up behind us. The police had arrived.

The officer help push the car to the nearest parking lot, I parked the car, got out and watched in horror as my SIO struggled to walk toward me.  We were still a fair distance from a gas station and my place.  I ran to my SIO, checked him out and then back to the officer explaining the situation.

Short version.  The back of a police cruiser is a cool place to ride when you need a quick ride to get your car and rescue your SIO. 

I impressed my SIO last night.  I know how to work the new high tech Gas containers because I am my Father’s only Daughter. Daddy also taught me what Ding Ding Ding means.  No more suppressing that one voice.

It's not a Crime.... Yet

I have put up with this minor annoyance for over two years: text messages from an unknown source. The first time I received them I asked the source their identity.  None was given except for “an old friend”.  I did the standard reverse phone number look up.  The free version only gives you the origin of the cell phone store or at best. This really tells you nothing.  At that time I was not willing to go the extra mile or pay to find out more.

Since that first text message two years ago, I have ignored the benign infrequent message that were received, never responding, always noticing that were from the same number. (Note: this number is not in my contacts list.)

Yesterday morning, waking up and checking my phone I saw that there was a picture message from that same number.  Something told me NOT to open it and view it.  It bothered me most of the morning.  I sent a text to my Significant Other(SIO); we were having lunch together later.  I wanted him to open the picture and advise me.  I had mentioned the annoying texts to him a few times but being an extremely independent woman, it was only a passing comment.  I don’t often ask him to do things for me, it’s a huge step for me to let him help with even the smallest task.   When he arrived I handed him my phone.  He opened the picture, frowned, told me I did not want to see the picture and that I needed to talk the police.  I frowned back, my self-confidence wavering.  I’ve been down this road before and didn’t want to go there again. It’s no fun.

Women fighting for their right to be protected, their right to feel safe is not easy. Victims seem have fewer rights than those committing the crimes. You have to jump through fiery hoops just to get a protective order.  And this is just a piece of paper that is delivered, the person served, is not locked away.  They are still walking the streets, able to do as they please.  If the order says to stay off a certain property, they can be across the street, watching you.   They will. Their response, “I was just taking a walk.”    Yes, I have been there.

I went to the Police Department, who by the way, have always been very helpful. (I do love my small town!)  The detective told me it was not a crime, at least not yet.  He proceeded to tell me to be vigilant. If it began to happen more often than I would need take further action.  He suggested I contact my phone company and get the number blocked or have my number changed.  Sure.  Fiery hoops.  

My phone company says:  1- I have to pay a fee to have the number blocked, 2- I have to pay a fee to change my number.  Additionally if I change my number I have to let all my contacts know that I have changed my number.  My SIO is furious.  He wants to speak to the police on my behalf, the cell phone carrier, mine and the “other”.   

 Do you see the point?  I need to feel protected here, but I am going to have jump through the fiery hoops.  Why can’t the carrier of that cell phone be charged when I insist that that number be blocked for harassment?  Do I have to go to court to get this done? 

Did I mention that I didn’t see the picture?  I haven’t.  My SIO saw it, the detective saw and deleted for me. I’m sure somewhere in the data files of the cell phone companies it can be retrieved because you know that everything you send, type, say electronically can be retrieved. It just a matter of how much effort you put forth to feeling protected, as in this particular situation.

How far does anyone have to go to feel safe from harassment?  It doesn’t matter where the harassment occurs, what form the harassment. It is still harassment.   Ignored means not interested and No means No.  Keep your garbage off my phone and out of my life. 

Where to Hide

Where to Hide.          

It’s a cold windy day in my little college town. My significant other (SIO) and I took advantage of our last day off and ventured downtown to my favorite Hummus restaurant for lunch.  He knows my cravings well, my challenges at the mention of the word “lunch” and offered to take me out.  I happily accepted.

My normal workday lunch hour consist of errands, running home to let the dog out and grabbing my bowl of noodles.  Organic by description, 90 seconds to fix, needing to be drained, somewhat tedious, but they are very delicious.  My children have decided they like them also, especially my endless-pit-of-a-stomach-football-playing 16 year old son. He likes them so much that he eats 2 bowls of them at time. I have taken great lengths to hide the noodles to ensure that my lunch would be there waiting for me.

I’m not very good at hiding things.

I have lamented to friends many times about my lunch and food issues.  Some have said I need a noodle safe: lock up your noodles! Or I should hide them in my car or put them in my golf bag.   Yesterday during another lunch with friends one suggested a specific spot; one where I keep personal wardrobe items.  I had not thought of this one particular spot. 

During lunch today with my SIO, I mentioned yesterday’s conversation.  He laughed at the mere suggestion of the subject.  ” Hide the noodles!”  He laughed, choking on his salad.  He said he had seen this place and thought maybe that wasn’t exactly the best spot.  “They may get lost and you would never see your noodles again.”  More laughter…I frowned.  I had been thinking it was a pretty good suggestion. Now what was I to do?

The last time I came home for lunch and found my last bowl of noodles missing, I promptly removed some of my son’s personal belongings and hid them!  When he asked if I had seen them, I said, “I don’t know, have you seen my noodles?”  “Oh” was his sheepish reply.

If someone has obviously gone to great lengths to hide a food items in a non food-related storage area and you find it, the right thing would be leave it alone?  I guess not, to the hungry stomach of a 16 year old.  Is a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread or pound of turkey with cheese and tortillas not enough food at the end of the school day?   What deli do I have to buy to satisfy this kid’s hunger?

I may have to try that hiding place for my noodles.  No 16 year old football player is ever going to go looking there for noodles. Right? I’m pretty sure he never reads my blog.  Right? I’m going to the grocery store now, stocking up on organic noodles, some for him, some for me….And some turkey for that Turkey!

And yes I’m going to hide my noodles in the you-know-where.  Shhhh-don’t tell.