The Curse of Technology

Since I confessed my love for all things technological, I need to now confess my disdain for the same.

That's right ... As much as I love it, I hate it just as much. I've thought long and hard about why I am apparently a walking oxymoron or paradox or maybe both. And I think it boils down to this: Online, we are too gripe-y.

Today, a hot, trending article popped onto my newsfeed that was titled, "Dear SAHM: Shut Up" or something just as stupid. I didn't even read the article because it had the word Shut Up in it. That's just rude.

If anyone should have to shut up, it's someone telling someone else to shut up. (Did you follow that? I know what I'm trying to say.)

Then, I clicked through to an article about why Megan Trainor's song "All About That Bass" is body shaming. Um ... what? In essence, the author said she was offended because she tried gaining weight and it just didn't work out for her. The line "I ain't no size 2" hurt her heart. I'm not denying her feelings; if she feels that way, she feels that way. The easy thing to do would be to not listen to the song.

I'm typically offended by gangster rap; therefore, I don't listen to it. Ever. But, I'm not going to write an entire blog post about it.

Oh, wait...

See? This is what happens when the internet gets too loud and obnoxious: I become gripe-y as well.

Just think about how wonderful this entire world would be if we got offended at such things as hunger and abuse and homlessness. And, instead of griping about it, we donated food and money and raised awareness and helped a neighbor out.

Is this enough to make me give up my online life. Pffft ... no. I'll just look for the lovely.

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The lovely like my friend Jeanabec who just posted tonight a prayer request for a panhandler that was heavy on her heart. She didn't know him, but she wanted us to join her in prayer. Beautiful.

The lovely like my friend Alan who's turned to social media to send healing, comforting thoughts and prayers for his sick brother.

The lovely like my friend Katie who just gave birth to a darling baby girl today.

The lovely like my own kiddo who searches for the perfect quote to accompany her fun pictures on Instagram.

I'm going to sign off now and think about way I can make my little corner of the world lovely.

The Blessing of Technology

I love technology. I love social media. I love the interwebz. Really, I do. I know a lot of people host a lot of disdain for all things techy that distracts us from what's important in our lives, but I am not one of those people.

Thanks to social media, I have been able to stay in touch with cousins that I haven't seen in over twenty-five years.

Thanks to social media, I've gotten sweet friends that I adore and count as close members of my tribe and I met them through the interwebz on one venue or another.

Thanks to technology, I can instantly keep in touch with my long-almost-lost friends with just the taps of a my thumbs.

I have instant information (which isn't always a good thing, but more good than bad) at my fingertips, all because of technology.

Yep. Technology is a blessing to me. I love it all. I love Facebook. I use Twitter, but it's more like my elderly aunt Gloria--I like exchanging recipes and gifts with her on holidays, but I don't wanna go the mall with her. I adore Instagram--I like looking at everyone else's vacation pictures. (Seriously.) I love the notion that I can google any piece of information and find it in the blink of an eye.

Pinterest? Well ... Pinterest has led me down the wrong path one too many times.

I've made a burlap wreath based on Pinterest prompting and it looked like something a donkey hacked up.

I've decorated my home to look like a showcase with the help of Pinterest. It looked like a showcase for a mental institution's art show, but whatevs.

The thing is I know I don't have mad deco skillz--which is why I surfed Pinterest in the first place.

But, tonight, when I attempted to make queso blanca based on Pinterest recipes? Well, let's just say it wasn't my finest moment in the kitchen. 

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Here's what you need to know:

-The five minute recipe took me over a half-hour.
-The half-and-half to cheese-ratio was way off; therefore, I made about four gallon when all was said and done.
-I cursed like a sailor, and I'm not (too) ashamed of it.
-I contemplated throwing the entire pot of the cheesey-sauce-gone-wrong out of my front window ... and the window was closed at the time

Pinterest? We're breaking up. No one makes my cheese look bad ... not even Pinterest.

21st Century Kid

Raising a kid in these days of a high-tech, hand-held lifestyles is really difficult. As a momma I have to compete with every single piece of information (and misinformation) in the whole wide world, also known as the WWW.

When I was a kid, my new information, also called The Evening News, came in small doses at 5:00. Usually, at this time, my daddy was watching the news with a cold Miller Light in his hand while my own momma finished up our supper. My sister and I usually played outside until we were called in for dinner. At that time, I'd get the news of the world, as presented and censored by my parents.

Today, with the flick of their index fingers on the mouse or the tap of their thumbs, my daughters can find out anything their little hearts or minds desire--or don't desire. As a parent in this era, Brian and I must be vigilant at keeping the lines of communication open so that our modern daughters know that no matter what, they can and should come to us about anything. 

And in that respect, it's never been easier to communicate with our kids. With those same overused index fingers and thumbs they can reach us at any given time with a phone call or a text. Fortunately, at our home, the smart phone has been instrumental in our keeping the communication lines open. 

I'd like to think that my girls could talk to their daddy about anything that they would talk to me about as well. In fact, up until Friday night, I'd have laid good money down with Vegas odds makers that they were just as comfortable speaking to me as they were their daddy about any given subject--including girly subjects.  

Then this happened:

On Saturday we went shopping. Both Brian and Daughter 1 agreed that it should be a momma-daughter date.