Over the last several months, I have engaged in a rather bizarre hobby. You see, it all began with the high-speed, low-drag fancy phone and all of its lovely applications. Typically on car trips when I have left all reading material at home, I turn to the phone to amuse me. Mind you, I do not avail myself of these capabilities when I am driving. I am of the opinion that in every relationship, be it friendship or otherwise, there are passengers, and there are drivers. I was born to ride along. This has nothing to do with gender roles or any other social conventions. Hubby is a professional driver, and as such is surely over-qualified to drive the precious mini-van. I, while having never receiving a single traffic violation as a capable driver, will gladly defer to Aaron the driving reins. I would much rather gaze listlessly into the ubiquitous corn fields, but after several years of marriage, I have found that it is best to engage my mind as a means of distracting it from the stresses of Aaron’s “defensive” driving maneuvers. I digress. Anyhow, the phone has an application that allows me to view all coupons, sales, and what -not for the entire nation. The real perk of this is that it provides links that allow me to sign myself up for all imaginable sorts of free samples. Let me tell you, I sign up for all of them. My mail man must think I have a qualified mental disorder (which would explain the grin and reluctance to actually touch my hand when I meet him for the mail). Recently I received my requested sample of a brand-name feminine hygiene product. Now, I see the box and I think, jeepers they sure did waste a lot of cardboard on the packaging for this little tidbit! Ohhhh Nooo!!!!…I have lived a full 31 years, I have seen industrial fans, air conditioners, sledge hammers, etc., but never before have I seen an industrial maxi pad. This thing was prodigious! I could seriously tack it to the Chihuahua, send him out in the rain, and he would come in dry from nose to tail. I am thinking that if you need that sort of absorbency coverage, you should consult your GP. I am not confusing this with a Poise pad or any other type of bladder leakage product. I have a degree in History which is useful only when filling out crosswords and identifying menstrual napkins.
As fun as all my hobbies might be, I have lately begun to wonder if I am not venturing into the territory of the “old”. You know that place where you no longer know what is “happening” and cool. Sure, I keep abreast of world events, new novels, and delicious new home appliances (Dyson vacuum you will be mine some day), but do I really know anything about the current culture? I have never watched a full episode of Lost, American Idol, Grey’s Anatomy, Dancing With the Stars, ad nauseum. I am even afraid to admit that this isolationism has encompassed the music genre. I have no idea what is current in the popular music category, and have no exposure, barring Saturdays when my neighbor cleans her house. This was never more evident than on my thirty-first birthday when my husband, another couple and I decided to venture into the college bar. Said bar has a piano bar area. The song requests, which I couldn’t name if asked and probably shouldn’t given the self-imposed PG-13 nature of all of my online postings (anyone who thinks what you post online is private, no matter your “security” settings, is a darned fool. I am quite sure none of my grandchildren will want to google me twenty years hence and view pics of me performing body shots [not that I would ever do that] on grandpa) baffled me.
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