My Love/Hate Relationship with FB

No posts here since Sept 11th…wow! Where does the time go?
I've only written 3 entries since then on AWAKENING CHOICE DREAMS. Where have I been?

On that time-sucker Facebook, that's where.

Since my last entry I've been involved in a lot of "real life" stuff; really I have.

I've been stared at by Maya, a lot

I came across this little Stonehenge at one of my fave places
at the beach…AND, I repositioned 3 that had toppled over.
A man is holding back his kid from throwing stuff at it as I take the picture.
I don't know just how long others resisted the urge to destroy it.

Just last Saturday I went skating at the Empress.
The new owners have erected this tent which takes up one half
of the front lawn. You can rent skates, hats and gloves. The far end
is open to the view of the harbour. No stale, sweaty, mildewy arena smell here!

View from the outside, very festive.
They have music and hot chocolate and treats at reasonable prices.

I've had earth-shattering, life-changing thoughts; realizations worth sharing with the world. But…there's FB. Little "dings" emanate from my phone at random moments. Someone's out there reaching out, seeking connection with you. Come on, just check it out. You know you want to, you're soooo far away…

And, I'm snared. Just see what family and friends from all over the world are up to, have a "conversation" with them through comments, share a tidbit from your life, post a pic or 2. In the shake of a rabbit's tail you'll be done.

HA, ya right!?

I get sucked into the world of FB and I become less discriminate as the minutes tick by. Tick, tick, tick. Initially, friends' shares and comments link me to informative videos and newspaper articles. I get involved too! I sign petitions; I share them embellished with my own comments. I don't donate. One could go broke with the number of sites out there begging for donations. But, I'm proudly, socially informed, responsible and engaged, for a while…

Gradually, usually while I'm reading up on crucial news-rich entries of the day, my eyes begin to wander to the great supplier of brain candy; the sidebar. Little snippets caught at the corner of my eye begin to gnaw at my innards until, suddenly, I can't stand it anymore, I JUST HAVE TO KNOW. I HAVE TO KNOW about: the 10 Celebrities' Faces Most Botched Up From Plastic Surgeries, Celebrities Who You Didn't Know Were Related, Celebrities Who Live In Modest Homes Despite Having Millions, "Celebrities" doing or being this or that…

Educational nature, environmental and science entries supplied by my most learned, scholarly, friends, somehow have shifted over into the realm of cute animal videos: dancing penguins, piano playing cats, talking dogs, until the witching hour descends upon the members of my own animal kingdom - Flippy and Maya. Leaprotic* frenzy breaks out all around me, stirring me out of my FB-induced stupor.

I pull down the task bar. It's closing in on 1 a.m. and, though tired, I can barely pull myself away from the clutches of this most engrossing material.

Well, no more! 

After reading a discussion between 2 very creative friends about FB, on FB last night, I vowed to follow their lead. I'm pulling back, people!

30 minutes allowed today. I set my timer. Dig in and scroll down. 30 minutes; time is precious. I read only the most compelling entries. I comment on a selected few. I share only 3 items, my original limit when I first got on FB but which has since grown over time to 8 or more entries per day.

My phone glows as I write this. The latest FB comment directed to me appears on the screen. A thank you, I think, sent in response to a Happy Birthday message I'd sent to her. Does this glancing count as time used. I didn't enter into FB to get the info from FB, it just came…hmmm. 

A scant few moments after I'd signed off with…Damn! I was just about to check the exact wording that I'd used on FB, by going in but I'm going to resist. Let's try this again.

A scant few moments after I'd signed off on my status, to the effect that, I'd reached the quota I'd set for myself today, so I'm done; my longest-time friend (who's on vacation in Mexico…so far away but she's connecting with me) made some comments. I know this cus the screen on my phone glowed, it "dinged" and I caught a glimpse of the text, just enough to know it was from her but not what her comments were about, before it timed out and the message disappeared.

Oh, the temptation!

But I'm NOT BITING.

I'm not even going to post this til tomorrow.

"TAKE THAT FB!"

"Ya, we'll see how long this lasts!"

Who said that?

*       *       *

Follow up: It's now going on for 3 p.m. ( I know it says 6p.m., haven't figured out how to change the settings from Eastern Standard to Pacific time) the next day and I haven't gotten onto FB despite the fact that 19 messages await me. Another just came in, dropped it's way into the screen on my phone. 

This post will be one of my "shares" for the day so I needed to wait til I'm ready. Ready, here I go.

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* LEAPROSY - Cats display a penchant for LEAPROSY - not to be confused with leprosy. One moment they are lazing around as only cats can and suddenly, as if a bee has bitten their butt, they jump up and as if possessed run around in fits and starts. This usually occurs at about the same time each day or night, depending on your cat. In Maya's case leaprosy hits just after we have gone to bed. She announces it with a brrritt, brrritt sound followed by stampeding through the house, bashing things about along the way, eventually pounding her little cat feet and skidding around the corner into my room, leaping onto my bed, running over my body, then catapulting herself (very appropriate for a cat to do) off of it to tear around the apartment again. An episode of leaprosy ends just as quickly as it begins with a sudden stop, and a look comes over their face (like you get when you way into a room and have forgotten just why you came in) followed with consolation bathing ( for the cat, not us, though this would be a good idea.)
INFO here taken and adapted from the original post NANCE'S WORD EMPORIUM

The cat's ass

Tonight, Rod and I were enjoying of a lovely tilapia, baked potato and asparagus dinner, in our dimly lit dining area, while watching Rick Mercer, when suddenly Flippy ejected out of her kitty litter box (Pic is of the kitties cute "throne room" that Rod built into the wall at the end of the dining area, conveniently accessed through the garage for easy cleaning.) like something shot out of a cannon.

She flew past us almost hitting the glass sliding doors at the far end of the room before executing a one eighty, flying past us again on her trajectory out the room, down the hall and up the stairs.

For a brief moment I thought umm something's up her ass, maybe you should check up on her.

But, she's a cat, what can be the big deal? Probably got a case of leprosy. And so, without missing a beat, we continued eating.

So, I'm up here in the den checking out other peoples' blogs when Rod comes into the room. "Boy, somethin' doesn't smell right up here" he says.

Rod, of all people, notices something smelling bad, unheard of.

I have to say this is a first especially since I don't smell it. He says, "It smells like someone's had a dump." Immediately I know where to look. Aaargh, sure enough Poopy Butt Girl has struck again, depositing a gloppy, blob of diarrhea on my freshly changed duvet.

As I'm heading down the stairs on my way to the laundry room with duvet in hand I catch a whiff of poo as she runs past me in the other direction, no doubt to eager to rub the cling-ons (neologism: bits of poo stuck to someone's butt) on to my futon.

I throw her into the clink (the upstairs bathroom) so that she might consider the severity of her crimes against humanity and have a chance to clean her butt as penance, but, when I come to check on her, she shows no sense of remorse and has declined to tend to the matter.

Is she the cat's ass? A term described in the urban dictionary as: "A person, thing or event to be held in high regard. From the meticulous treatment and devotional attention a feline bestows on its hindquarters." Hah, no!

Does she have a cat's ass? Yes, but now it's sporting a summer butt clip.

STAYCATION

O.K., now what I really intended to write about yesterday, before my mind veered off in a totally unexpected direction, was the conversation that transpired after Dr. S asked “How are you doing?”

As always, we begin talking about how life is going because he really is interested.

“Are you going anywhere this summer?” he asks.

I inhale, as one does just before beginning to respond, when he proceeds to answer his own question, “Oh, I guess not after last year's trip.”

I’ve been seeing him so long now that he’s beginning to converse like me.

And, he’s right. Rod and I have been exploring options, even considering renting the cottage that was one leaning fridge, leaky ceiling and broken step up from camping. One of my fav cottage experiences by the way – very Walden Pondish.

“We’ve pretty much decided that we might just stay at home; tell everyone that we’re going away and then not answer the phones. Since we both work out of the house this is a really, really bold step for us. To have our house just as our home for a week, well that could be amazing cuz sometimes it feels like it’s business 24/7 and the only way we can get away from it is to literally get out of the house. So, if we told everyone we knew we were away it wouldn’t be so difficult not to answer the phone.” I replied.

“Oh, a Staycation” he said.

Brilliant! I love this word and was so pleased that another made-up, new word has been added to my favourite word list.

Hmmm… I'm thinking. He’d said the word with such authority. Maybe it really is a word. And, as I was driving today I vaguely recollected catching bits of an episode of Brett Butt’s Corner Gas in which he says he’s going on vacation but stays at home and sends post cards from his “trip”. Sounds like a staycation to me. It’s just too good not to be a word.

And, sure enough I googled and this is what I found for staycation. It is a neologism. Now, I know that you now know what a neologism is cus you just had to click on that one too. But, I just had to write that word cus I love it and I love that there is a word for the process of newly created words that are on the verge of becoming recognized as words by the general populace. It's magical!

The key issue for our particular form of staycation is – can we stay at home and not answer the phone or the door?

This will be easier for me than for Rod. For most of my childhood Mom stayed at home alone with us 5 kids for weeks on end while Dad made his living as a traveling salesman. During these times she didn’t want any of us to answer the door for any reason.

So, it usually went like this - a knock would occur and suddenly the yelling and carrying on of 5 rambunctious kids would stop. We’d drop down to the floor and hide out of sight because the caller would usually peer in the picture window to try to see what had happened. Luckily the drapes, though sheer, did provide cover.

It became a game really, like playing the urban, home version of COMBAT. Some of us would go on a reconnaissance mission bravely crawling on our bellies to peek out and see who was there, despite the shout-whispers coming from Mom (who was hiding behind the louvered kitchen doors),"You kids stay where you are; keep down. Get away from the window." We'd then slither back to her and report on our findings so that she could decide whether to answer or not.

When I thought about it I was a little confused and saddened, after all most of the people we were evading were traveling salesmen out there trying to make a living; someone like my Dad. Were there families dropping down and crawling on their bellies all over Canada when he came to call? I was relieved when I discovered, as I got older, that he called on drugstores, hair salons and beauty schools so this was most unlikely.

So I am highly trained to ignore knocks on doors, doorbells buzzing and phones ringing etc. Hell, I can go on staycation even while you’re standing next to me. Rod, he’s an amateur.

I’ll have to get him into training soon as we plan to go on staycation sometime this summer, but you won’t know we’ve been there til we get back only there’ll be no going and no coming and don’t expect any postcards either.