Friday, March 8, 2024

Memories and Grief - Some Happy, Some Sad


Way back in 2019 Vince and I attended a charity event and, since we were all gussied up, Vince asked someone take our picture. It was a wonderful, memorable evening.

 

Back in 2019, we didn’t know that in a few months’ time, we would be isolated because of a thing called Covid. We didn’t know we would eventually catch the virus ourselves.

 

We didn’t know that a few months after that, Vince would be gone.

 

So we didn’t know that we needed to celebrate each moment with smiles and photos so that five years later I could look back and remember the fun we had.

 


Actually, though, that’s what Vince always did – he documented all the moments, big and small. And because he did, I have tangible proof of my happy life with him, even though it was only thirteen short years.

 

Recently, that photo came up in my memories on Facebook, so I had to repost it. Lots of people posted kind comments and there were more than 140 “likes.”

 

So I started looking at the names of friends and family who liked it. And, as I was scrolling down the list, I became teary-eyed.

 

Because all those people were telling me that they care. About me. About Vince. And they were letting me know it was okay to post that photo.

 

That even though we are approaching the three-year mark since he has been gone, my friends and family understand that it’s okay to remember him. Three years seems like so long ago, but – to me – it also seems like it happened yesterday.

 

For some who haven’t lost anyone significant in their lives, it may be difficult to understand that grief never goes away. That it sometimes softens with time. And it’s perhaps not as paralyzing as it was in the beginning. But that those feelings of grief will come and go – probably forever.

 

That the person who grieves might go on with life as if nothing is wrong – and if you ask them how they are, they will invariably respond, “fine,” but that may be the furthest from the truth.

 

Or maybe they are fine. (Grief can be confusing!)

 


Sometimes it only takes a scent of the cologne they wore, or their favorite meal printed on a menu to bring the grief back.

 

Or it may be a photo of a happy occasion that does it.

 

But most people who are grieving are not broken. We are repairing our shattered hearts and going on as our loved ones would want us to. We have good days and bad days, like everyone else.

 

Some people are not okay with grief. With allowing a person to express their memories or their sadness. Or their joy over a funny memory. They don’t want anyone to bring up the name of the person who passed.

 

I ask, “Why?”

 

Why is it so uncomfortable? Are they afraid the person who is mourning will burst into uncontrollable tears?

 

And to that, I ask, “So what?”

 

What’s the worst that will happen? Maybe they need that cathartic cry and will feel better when they’re done. If someone viewing such a display is uncomfortable, just grab some tissues, hand them to the person crying and step back.

 

Chances are, if a memory is brought up about a deceased loved one, the person grieving will latch onto that memory. We love hearing their name. We love hearing stories about them. What better way to honor their life by remembering them?

 

Recently, I read a post by a woman in my Widows/Widowers group on Facebook who said that the last time she attended a gathering with her late husband’s family, she proposed a toast to him. She had hoped his family would join in and bring up a happy memory or say a few kind words about him.

 

But no one did.

 

And she was so saddened by this. Particularly since he had passed only three months before. And it was his family.

 

More recently, one of his family members asked her not to bring up his name or propose a toast to him at the next family gathering. She was devastated by this and considered not going to the event. She wanted opinions of the people in our private group about what she should do.

 

I thought this was so disheartening.

 

Of course, I don’t know the particulars. Was there family strife? Was it a happy occasion (birthday for their 90-year-old grandmother, family wedding, or baby shower) where her timing was off and a toast to her deceased husband was maybe not the most appropriate thing?

 

Nevertheless, I hope that my family and friends will never stop me from mentioning Vince. And I hope it’s not uncomfortable for them, because it’s not for me.

 


Now, granted, I try not to talk only about him. You know – exclusively. I get that that could be uncomfortable and a little repetitive. I try to keep the Vince mentions down to an appropriate level and if I’m talking about the price of paper towels, for example, I don’t try to tie his name into it.

 

Because, really, who wants to talk about the price of paper towels? And anyone who knew him would wonder at my sanity that I’m bringing Vince’s name into a story about the price of paper towels.

 

But if we’re talking about a great rack of ribs, or the perfect fire pit fire, well, all bets are off. Vince was the most amazing grillmast…uh…

 

…perhaps I’ll save that story for another day.

 

Tuesday, February 27, 2024

Florida in February was Fabulous


I just returned from a six-day vacation in Florida to visit my friends Susan and Jeff and Melinda and Dan. Three days at Sue’s; three days at Melinda’s.

 

And how nice was I? Giving Sue and Jeff the opportunity to pick me up from the airport – and Melinda the chance to take me back there on my way outta town? Doesn’t that sound nice to you?

 

Well, but hear me out. It was nice because neither one had the responsibility of driving to the airport twice. See? Nice.

 


Plus, I figured I wouldn’t annoy either couple if I didn’t overstay my welcome – hence the three-day visit rule.

 

But lemme tell you – six days just isn’t long enough.

 


As Sue pointed out, you’ve gotta take one whole day off for travel. Okay, that’s pretty much true. Counting getting to the airport and getting back home after the trip, my travel time was about 15 hours in total. So that leaves me with basically a five-day vacation.

 

Yep, not enough time.

 

But let’s look on the bright side. I had FIVE DAYS in Florida! It was sunny every single day. It was warm. Well, according to my hosts: warm-ish. It was in the 70s. Which is way warmer than it was in Ohio. After all, when I left there was still a little snow on the ground.

 

I never once resorted to wearing my jacket. I caught Melinda, on the other hand, wearing her sweatshirt on several occasions. Guess it’s true what they say about having “thinner blood” once one moves to a warmer state.

 


It was a relaxing vacation – with just enough variety to make it perfect for me. We ate out and ate in. Sue chopped and sliced and stirred and sauteed one evening and made a delicious chicken piccata. And then the next night I was at Melinda and Dan’s and we went out to eat at a great little Italian restaurant. What did Melinda order? Yep, you guessed it – chicken piccata!

 

One morning Melinda made French toast for breakfast, which was yummy. I’d love for the story to be circuitous and report that one morning Sue, Jeff and I went out to breakfast and, weirdly, we all ordered French toast. But stuff like that just doesn’t happen in Jane’s Domain. Unless, of course, we want to pretend that it did?

 

No? Well, okay, then.

 


But we did go to the ocean a couple of times. I got sand in my toes and had the chance to listen to the waves, which is one of my most favorite sounds.

 

The first time I got a little sunburnt and the next time I got zero sun because, well, I had a brand-new bottle of 70 SPF sunscreen. Plus, we had an umbrella that kept that pesky sunshine from reaching my burnt bits.

 

So, all in all, it was a delightful, albeit short stay in the Sunshine State. I loved spending time catching up with my friends. I had a great time relaxing and reading and watching some fun new shows on TV. We drank a few glasses of wine and even went shopping a time or two. And I took some wonderfully refreshing naps almost every day without the need to get up and immediately walk Maggie Minx while still half-asleep because we were on "Maggie Time" and not "Jane Time." 

 

Yeah, it was a great time!

 

And I have to admit – it’s great being back home, too. Why? Well, because I’m not crazy about living out of a suitcase – color-coded, organized packing cubes notwithstanding.

 

And, frankly, the older I get, the more I like my own little routine. That’s perhaps another way of saying I’m getting to be an old fogie who’s set in her ways.

 

Uh oh.

 

On the other hand, we all like coming home. Don’t we?

 

One of the interesting things I discovered when I was scanning my parents’ old travel photos is that my dad tended to take a few photos at the end of their trips of their house back in Alliance – or the cottage in Cape Cod. They considered both of those places “home.”

 

Weirdly, dad took a photo of his shed...!


And Dad always wrote “Home, Sweet Home” on the photo. Every time.

 

Now, sure – he was, most likely, using up the rest of the film since most of their trips were taken back in the day when you had to get the 35 mm film developed. And you couldn’t do that until you’d used up all 24- or 36-count of photos on the roll. (Dad would never have just wasted the last few pictures in order to get the film out of the camera to take to Foto-Mat to be developed.)

 

But to me it clearly demonstrated that while mom and dad loved to travel – they also loved coming back home.

 

So I’m going to think of coming home again as a good thing.

 

I feel renewed. And at peace. And ready to get back to my checklists of tasks to finish. And back to my daily dog-walking responsibilities. And meal preparations for one. And all that other stuff that sometimes feels like the “drudgery” of routine – but that can also be the good stuff that makes up our lives.

 

And maybe – just maybe – I feel the need for a little nap coming on. (Ooh, nice!)

 

Even if I am back on "Maggie Time" and have to walk Maggie Minx before I’m ready to get up and get going again.

 


Enjoy the rest of your day. I hope you do something nice for yourselves and feel that sense of renewal, whether it’s taking a break, a vacation – or even just an occasional nap. 


Enjoy!

Tuesday, February 6, 2024

Leg Shaving and Other Assorted and Sundry Tasks


 

I shaved my legs today. That, my friends, is a big deal for me. I have no plans for a pedicure in the coming days, nor am I headed immediately to a pool or the beach. I just shaved my legs for the heck of it.

 

Well, I was in my brother- and sister-in-law’s hot tub the other day. So they could have potentially noticed the longer-than-the-hair-on-my-head leg hair. But it was dark. And no one got close enough to accidentally brush against my extremities to notice I wasn’t clean shaven.

 

But I digress. 


Shaving my legs is hardly earth-shattering news. "Big deal," you say? You shave your legs every day…or every third day…or once a week on Wednesdays. Or whatever leg-shaving schedule you have implemented for yourself. (Talkin' to the women now, you understand. But if you're a man and you shave your legs, well... you do you!)

 

Anyway, I used to have that kind of schedule. Certainly as a young adult I did. But since Vince passed, I don’t seem to care much if my legs are smooth – or the hair is so long it can be braided.

 

The thing is, I really can’t see the hair on my legs. It’s very light – always has been – and so it doesn’t occur to me to shave it in the shower when I absolutely cannot see what I’m doing. Plus, I’ve never had that needle-sharp stubble that can cause scarring should my hand accidentally brush against my unshaven shin.

 


Perhaps if I had a dark, gorilla-thick pelt, I’d be shaving way more regularly.  I’m not even sure that’s a good look for the gorillas, but PETA would have my hide (ha) were I to suggest they start shaving gorillas.

 

I do try to catch up on the leg-shaving thing when I’m headed for the pool or the beach. This usually results in my noticing after the fact that I’ve missed several areas with the long sprouts glistening in the sun.

 

I also try to shave my legs a couple days before a pedicure. But I haven’t been having regular pedicures lately, so the leg shaving process has flown straight out the window. The last time I did have a pedicure, I forgot to shave a couple days prior and I've always heard you shouldn't shave the same day you have an appointment. So I didn't. Well, the technician had a bright light shining on the foot basin. When I looked down, the foot-long hairs growing along my legs were clearly illuminated for all to see. Ack!

 

And, okay, so it wasn’t quite that long. Honest.

 

Nevertheless, I realize that there are a lot of things I don’t do for myself anymore that I used to do on a regular basis.

 


I was the kind of person who had towel-washing days, and weekly bed-changing schedules and silver-polishing Saturdays. The moment Vince opened a container of beef stock for the soup he was preparing, I added “beef stock” to my grocery list.

 

A lot of that kind of organization is no more. I rarely make soup, so there isn’t a need for beef stock. Instead, I pick up a container of ready-made heat-and-eat Home Chef soup.

 

When a person loses someone - especially their spouse – people are sad for them. They’re kind, consoling and caring. They figure the surviving spouse will get over the shock, then grieve, then move on. And if they haven’t been through the process themselves, they’re surprised to hear that more than two-and-a-half years later I can still get misty when I pass the containers of beef stock on the shelf at Kroger.

 

There are days still when cleaning up the kitchen seems like a monumental task. When I can’t make myself take a shower and wash my hair. Or when I don’t care if the mail piles up on the kitchen table.

 

This was not me in the Before.

 

Because I recognize this, I have little tricks to make myself care. I schedule lunches or dinners with friends and family because I would never be unkempt in public.  I plan trips to visit people because I know that interaction with others is important and good for my soul. And I invite people over to my place so I have to do more than the bare minimum in home clean-up and maintenance.

 

But this morning when I woke up, I felt like getting some things done. I stepped in the shower and washed my hair. And then I picked up the razor and started shaving my legs.

 

After I got dressed, I was motivated to strip the bed, clean the bathrooms and unload the dishwasher. I’ve already started the second load of laundry and emptied the trash cans – even though trash day isn’t until Thursday.

 

Wow. What’s come over me?

 

I’m not sure, but I’m happy to have these sorts of productive days.

 


I may have to re-implement a regular leg-shaving schedule. After all, self-care is a good thing. And if it gets me to collect the trash early without rushing around on Trash Day and then racing down the driveway with my trash can as the truck is approaching, well, that can only be a win-win.

 

Since I’ve gotten so much done, I’ve decided I’ve earned a break. So I’m writing this blog, while Maggie is snoozing on the chair across from me. But soon enough, she will be up and expecting her fourth walk of the day.

 

And then I will have to put away laundry, make the bed and prepare myself something to eat.

 


Good thing I have some ready-made, heat-and-eat Home Chef soup in the fridge, huh? (Hey, baby steps. Cooking an entire pot of soup for one just seems silly. I get sick of it far too quickly – and I find I’m not one to freeze and thaw ready-made meals. Something I should work on.)

 

Anyway, I hope you had a productive weekend and Monday. Let’s see what else is in store for the rest of the week?

 Oh, and p.s. - I didn't really have "silver-polishing Saturdays." I did, however, occasionally have grout-scrubbing Thursdays, which, in retrospect might have been a little worse than having silver-polishing Saturdays.

 

Sunday, January 21, 2024

Brrrr. It’s Cold Outside. And I’m…Grateful?


I’ve heard of some regions in the U.S. that have gotten “waist-deep” snowfalls in the past week and I’ve watched weather reports of vehicles stuck on roads and highways because of the heavy snowstorms.

 

And who doesn’t snicker as they watch those inevitable videos with people sliding keister-first down their driveway on the ice? (Okay, the snickering may not be kind – but I always wince first and say a quick prayer that no one was hurt during the creation of that video.)

 

In contrast, we didn’t get that much snow here. It snowed on and off for three days and we got maybe four inches total.

 

Doesn’t matter. I’m not a big fan of the snow and the cold no matter how much or little we get. Before Maggie Minx, I could stay inside all toasty and warm and completely ignore the snow and the cold. I could appreciate how pretty it was – from a distance.

 

But not anymore. I’m out there on a daily basis – whether it’s nine or 90 degrees.

 

That “neither rain, nor snow…” thing doesn’t apply only to mail carriers. But dog walkers don’t get Sundays and holidays off – we’re out there every single day.

 


Yesterday morning was sunny as Maggie Minx and I trudged around the neighborhood plodding along the snow-covered sidewalks. She was desperately looking for a little grass on the ground to sniff while I was concentrating on staying upright.

 

Because green grass was nowhere to be found, Maggie sought out other dog tracks. I’m not sure if it was to help her navigate through the deep (for her) snow – or to reassure herself that other animals still lived in this white-covered terrain.

 

Even though I was all bundled up, my eyes were watering and my nose was running. So I was feeling cold and my neutral mood was quickly heading into grumpy territory.

 

But then I looked down. To the pristine snow where no doggie or people tracks marred the expanse of white. And the sun shining down caused billions of tiny sparkles in the snow. Which, if you know me at all, you know how much I love sparkles.

 


So then I started appreciating the beauty of the snow – even through my watery eyes.

 

Of course, I had to pull my phone out of my pocket to try to snap a picture. I knew it probably wouldn’t be as beautiful as real life, but I gave it a shot anyway. (A shot – haha. Get it?!)

 

Anyway, my mood instantly lifted, and I smiled as I sniffled along through the rest of our walk, vowing anew to remember to bring a Kleenex with me the next time.

 

Even though I know this, I once again came to realize that I have the power to change my mood. Rather than be annoyed that it takes me 10 minutes to bundle myself up multiple times a day to take Maggie out for a walk (and another five minutes to zip Maggie into her own purple puffy jacket), I can choose to be annoyed…

 

…or I can choose to be grateful that I have all sorts of blessings. That I have enough clothes to bundle myself and my dog up and keep (mostly) warm outside during this very cold January.

 

That I have the ability to walk with my Maggie Minx and get a little bit of exercise and fresh air, even if it’s frigid air that makes my eyes water and my nose run.

 

That once our walk is over, we get to come back inside to a warm, comfy and cozy house that gives us shelter from the snow and cold.

 


And, uh, I’m mostly grateful that I have a whole case of Kleenex here that could prevent all manner of sniffling during my walks with Maggie.

 

But seriously, I am grateful that – once in a while – we have sunshine and blue skies here in Ohio in January. That’s an instant mood-lifter if there ever was one.

 

So, yes, I’m blessed. And I’m grateful.

 

But does it make me a bad person to also wish for a mid-winter thaw? I’d even take a 40-degree day. As long as it’s sunny. And as long as my case of Kleenex lasts.

 

Happy Sunday, everyone. Stay warm. (And if you live somewhere warm already, well, I’m not talking to you. Well…okayyyy…that’s not a good attitude, Jane. To all you folks in warm environs – stay cool!)

 

 

Monday, January 15, 2024

In Honor of My Father-in-Law, Morris Cordova


I have a need to write, but it’s not a blog I can post. Why not? Well, because it’s about my 93-1/2-year-old father-in-law who has entered hospice. And his 92-year-old sister does not know the extent of his condition because her health is not so great either and we don’t want to worry her.

 

Morris – my father-in-law – got pretty sick right before Christmas with the ‘flu and RSV. He went to the Emergency Room, but they released him. He went a couple times, actually, and finally ended up with pneumonia. This was too much for his body to fight and he eventually became unresponsive.

 

He had made a living will in which he stated he did not want to be kept alive by artificial means, including feeding tubes – so we made the difficult decision to put him in hospice.

 

I’ve been through hospice with both my parents and it’s not an easy thing. Dad was in hospice for only a week after his head injury, but mom was in hospice for over a year as she declined from Alzheimer’s.

 

I hated that they both had to be in hospice, but I will say that the hospice organization is amazing. They are the most caring, wonderful people who deal with so much grief. They care about us, our dying family members – and they even care for us again after our loved ones have passed.

 

I can’t say enough good things about them.

 

On Saturday, I went to Newark to see Morris in his hospice room. I had prepared a playlist of music I knew he liked.

 


Back in 2019 after his wife Marilyn died, Vince and I went to Newark frequently to help Morris organize his paperwork and visit him to keep up his spirits. Morris was eager to tell me about his morning routine, which was to get up, turn on his computer and access his music. He’d tell me how much he liked the station that played songs by artists such as Andrea Bocelli and Michael Bublé.

 

Many of those songs are some of my favorites, too, so it was fairly easy to create a playlist for him.

 

So when I got to his room, I turned off the TV. I decided Miss Kitty on Bonanza and Andrea Bocelli’s song featuring Celine Dion were not exactly compatible sounds.

 

We spent the better part of the hour listening to my playlist and then when it was over, I talked to him. Told him stories about some of the songs – how several were played at our wedding, how Vince told me how much he loved me after listening to one of them on our long flight back from Maui. And how much we enjoyed going to the Michael Bublé concert in 2019 and how we wished we could’ve had the opportunity to take Morris to the Andrea Bocelli concert the next time he came to Columbus.

 

Morris, of course, did not acknowledge any of this, although I want to believe that the furrow in his brow smoothed out some.

 

And while I was talking to him, I cried. A lot. I brushed Morris’ hair back off his forehead. I prayed aloud as I held his hand. I couldn’t help but feel Vince in the room with us. Waiting to welcome his dad home.

 


I was missing Vince terribly and wishing he were physically with us – but even though I was so sad, I also felt a sense of peace come over me.

 

It’s hard to explain, but there it is.

 

After a couple of hours, I told Morris that I was leaving. He actually opened his eye a bit as I bent down to kiss his forehead, told him I loved him and thanked him for bringing Vince into this world and welcoming me to the Cordova family.

 

When I passed the nurse’s station, I did remember to ask if they’d turn the TV back on since I’d forgotten. Television noise has been one of the constants in Morris’ life in recent years and I didn’t want him to lie there in silence before his son Keith came in for a few hours to sit with his dad.

 

When I got home, I was exhausted. My eyes were burning from having spent hours crying earlier. I was thinking that it would’ve been so much easier if someone had been with me in the room with Morris.

 


But you know something? It was then that I realized that I was happy that I had that time alone with him. That if someone had been in the room with me, I probably wouldn’t have spent the time talking to him or had the opportunity to tell him the things I was able to tell him.

 

We don’t always get that chance – so it’s important to take it when we can.

 

I wasn’t able to tell Vince I loved him just one more time because he left this world so suddenly. I wasn’t able to tell him that I wished we had many more years of happiness together and that I loved him and would miss him forever.

 

Even though I believe he knew – whether I voiced the words out loud or not.

 

The older we get, the more loss we experience. And it sometimes seems overwhelming to be in the midst of facing yet another loss, such as this.

 

But to experience loss, we must first experience love. So I wouldn’t forego this awful feeling of loss for anything. Because I know I have loved. And I have been loved.

 


I can’t alleviate the pain that all those who love Morris are going through and will experience in the days, months and even years ahead. But we can be there for each other and acknowledge a life well lived.

 

And we can honor our cherished memories of him.

 

Morris – I have been truly blessed to know and love you. Thank you for having me in your world.

Saturday, December 23, 2023

Taking the Time to Ruminate on the Importance of Experiences Over Things


It always amazes me how fast time flies – and these days it’s like time is set to warp speed. Seems like just a moment ago I was at the pool relaxing and enjoying the hot sun on my face and the cool water on my tootsies as I glided along in my float on the Lazy River.

 

But now suddenly it’s Christmas Eve Eve and I haven’t even started wrapping the presents I’m bringing to the Cordova family Christmas celebration tomorrow. Eek!

 

So what am I doing sitting at my computer writing a long-overdue blog, you ask? Well, I’m a procrastinator from way back, see, and I felt like writing a blog and didn’t feel like wrapping stuff.

 

But I’ll get it done. I usually do. Sometimes things don’t look quite as nice or fancy as I intend them to. We call these things “Pinterest Fails” – but I rarely post photos of them, so if there are no photos, then there is no actual proof that I’ve failed. Or so I choose to believe.

 

Truthfully, I think I don’t want to wrap stuff because I’m afraid I’ll feel like I don’t have enough. That’s what usually happens when I wrap Christmas gifts. And I seriously do NOT want to go anywhere near a retail establishment today. The 23rd of December? You kiddin’ me, pal?!

 

So what I have for folks will just have to be enough. As they say, it’s the thought that counts. And “they” are always right. Right?!

 

As I’ve gotten older, I finally “get” what older people through the years have meant when they said it’s all about the experiences we have with our loved ones rather than the things we acquire.

 


When I was younger, I had so many wants and needs that I didn’t care as much about the experience of, say, the annual family trip to Parkwood Beach. I felt like I needed the new suitcase so I could take the trip.

 

Yeah, when we were kids, we didn’t even have suitcases. Our parents put our vacation clothes in paper bags. You believe that?! One bag per kid, so it was tough being a teenager in the Domian household. Ain’t no way I could stuff a hairdryer, stack of paperbacks and my numerous outfits with an appropriate selection of footwear for the two-week trip all in one measly paper bag.

 


I have to admit being a little envious of the adorable tiny suitcases with adorable tiny wheels they have for little kids today. Sigh. I was so deprived.

 

No, not really. I was, after all, able to travel to Parkwood Beach every year with my family. I didn’t realize that some families never took annual vacations to the beach.

 

But I digress.

 

Because now I cherish the memories of those family trips. And I miss them.

 

And I appreciate the time I get to spend with the people in my life.

 

Take the last couple of weeks, for example. I’ve had numerous get-togethers with various friends. I feel happy. And I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself at every single gathering!

 

I’ve laughed. I’ve even shed a tear or two – but then the mood quickly shifted and we were back to laughing again.

 

We’ve shared meals, we’ve shared experiences – doing a little Christmas shopping, getting pedicures, preparing food, cleaning up afterwards, celebrating a birthday, enjoying a glass of wine, and talking, talking, talking. SO much talking!

 

You’d think we’d have run out of things to talk about, but noooo. (It’s a good thing I’m not talking to the same person every time. Then I surely would have run out of things to talk about and they would have had to say, “I KNOW, Jane. You’ve told me that same story five times now!”)

 

But I believe that these get-togethers have been worth more than 100 new suitcases. Uh, not that I’d want to go back to schlepping things around in paper bags, mind you. But the seven-year-old TJ Maxx suitcase I have suits me just fine.

 

So it may be too soon to set a New Year’s Resolution, but I’m going to do it, anyway. I’m going to focus on the experiences with friends and family next year rather than in acquiring new things. They are just things, after all, and are so not important in the grand scheme of this life.

 

Maybe it’s because I’m older now and I know that my life is not better because I have a big, impressive house and expensive furnishings in it. I kind of had that already – and I’d much rather have my Vince here with me in my small(er) flat with less expensive (but oh, so cute to me) furnishings, than in that big, impressive house.

 


I miss the house, sure. But I miss my Vince even more. And how much more special would it be to sit on the couch together drinking a morning cup of coffee with him and talking about our upcoming day than walking into a jewelry store and shopping for the most expensive bauble?

 

Hands down the cup of coffee experience would win over the bauble-shopping trip.

 

I’m not sure I could have made that statement a few short years ago.

 

I’m also not saying that I’ll never buy anything again. Because sometimes purchasing a little trinket when I’m on a trip or out with a friend means that I’ll think of that person whenever I look at that item because those things are tied up in the memory of my time with the special people in my life. But I don’t think I need the expensive things anymore.

 

In the meantime, while I’m staying out of all those retail establishments, I’m going to figure out what sorts of fun adventures and experiences I can take with friends and family in the new year.

 

Even at this advanced age, I’m thinking there are still new things to learn.

 

And maybe at this time next year I won’t be worrying that I don’t have enough gifts for people – but that I have just the right gift. Of time. Of the importance of family. And of togetherness.

 

We’ll see. Maybe first I need to take a class on how to stop procrastinating… But before that, I’d better get to wrapping those gifts. Tomorrow is gonna be here before I know it.

 

Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and all the happiness your little heart can hold in the upcoming New Year.

 


If I don’t get to another one before the end of the year, I want to thank you for reading my blogs this year. It means a lot. Sending lots of love from me to you.

Friday, November 3, 2023

Another Infernal Technology Update


Someday I’m going to figure out technology. Of course, the second I do, it'll change.

 

Why is this?

 

It has gotten to the point where I absolutely loathe updating my phone and anything remotely technical. Because whenever I do, apps do not work like they’re supposed to. Or I have to re-enter a password that is one of those “no hacker in the world will EVER be able to guess this one” created by the little bots hiding in my hard drive.

 

The only person who CAN’T guess those passwords is me.

 


And it usually happens at a critical time.

 

Like the other day. I was in a hurry and needed some groceries. I had overscheduled my day and needed to get gas, stop at the library, pick up groceries, get home, put them away – and then drive across town to meet a friend for dinner. All in a very restricted time span. 


So early that morning I sat down at my computer and placed an order for pick-up. It’s free if you spend a minimal amount – and I knew I wouldn’t have time to wander the aisles at Kroger.

 

But when I pulled into the parking spot, I noticed that they’d removed the phone number that you text when you arrive. Instead, the sign displayed one of those black and white QR codes that I had to scan to tell the store I was there.

 

QR Code for Jane's Domain!

When I scanned it, it took me to Kroger’s website where I was supposed to re-enter my password. That I couldn't remember. I mean, I was never one of those people who used “Password123” or something ridiculously simple that even a mediocre hacker could hack.

 

No, I used to try to create passwords that were a little more challenging – but were something that I could at least remember.

 

Not anymore. Like everyone else, I have about a bajillion sites that require passwords with numbers, letters, special characters and hieroglyphics. Not to mention the 2-step authentications, retina scans and a DNA test to prove I am who I say I am.

 

Yet, with all of that, how does my Facebook profile still get hacked??

 

Anyway, I was finally able to let the store know I was there by checking a text from them that bypassed having to re-enter a password. Fortunately, my frozen food remained frozen AND I was able to complete all my other tasks and get to my friend’s house on time.

 

Whew.

 

Recently, I noticed that my iPhone stopped recognizing my face. Yeah, iPhone, I AM a couple years older than I was when I set it up, but I don’t look that different, for cryin’ out loud.

 


So I figured I’d just start the process over again. But the very first screen where you move the phone around scanning your face didn’t work. So I fussed around with it for a while, then Google-searched possible solutions. Tried ‘em all.

 

Until finally – somehow – I was able to re-scan my face. Yippee!

 

Then I shut off my phone and turned it back on so it could get to the facial recognition screen.

 

And my phone refused to recognize my face.

 

Sheesh. Talk about a confidence killer. Now I’m old and apparently so ugly, iPhone won’t even talk to me.

 

During my research, I read that some folks had to take their phones to the store to be worked on. And that Apple wanted $200 to fix the problem. Uh, sorry, Apple. No can do.

 

I am fine with entering a six-digit passcode to get into my phone.

 

Except that I have an awful lot of two-factor authentications set up – and they require facial recognition.

 

Sigh.

 

But my iPhone is not the only technological culprit.

 


I recently had to update my laptop. It’s hooked up to a big screen so my poor little eyes don’t get overly strained while I work. But this complicates matters – because I’m never sure if I have to adjust the screen – or the laptop itself – whenever something goes haywire.

 

Like the volume/sound on my computer. I remember about a year ago after a computer update going through this same issue when I couldn’t hear anything. Videos would play, but there was no sound. I fussed and researched and tried multiple fixes and – miraculously – something finally worked and I had sound.

 

Figured that was the end of that issue – right? Oh, no, Skippy. Not so much.

 

Because the problem is back. I got on my computer the other day and clicked on a funny video (because the video maker told me it was funny – and they even told me to turn the volume up). But there was no sound. Even though I fussed and tried multiple fixes.

 

Guess I have to re-research audio solutions.

 

I wish I could remember the steps I took to fix problems when they occur. The only problem with that is that I end up fiddling around trying so many things that when I finally do get something to work, I have no earthly clue which steps worked and in what order.

 

If I tried writing down my process, it wouldn’t work the next time I tried it. Probably because I’m supposed to add steps in the middle like spin around three times, click my heels together and say a little prayer to those little bots hiding in this crazy technological world.

 

Maybe I should just go back to the olden days like my brother John. He is not “connected” in any way – doesn’t have the Internet or a router – and doesn’t have a single password he has to remember. I’m not even sure he knows what an “app” is.

 


He finally got a cell phone – except it’s a flip phone (I kid you not.)

 

He hasn’t mastered the “Press 4 twice for “H,” wait a second, then press 4 again three times for “I” – all to just say Hi. Hard to believe we used to do that to send text messages, eh?

 

But John has resorted to a complicated code of communication. He types “1” for yes/agreement/what he/she said and “2” for no/ain’t happenin’/don’t even get me started.

 

Fortunately, his college-educated siblings have been able to crack the code and the four of us have had actual conversations this way.

 

Nah. I can't go back. How would I express myself without access to emojis? And I'd end up thumb-texting in my sleep 'til I developed carpal tunnel. 


But I have so many more examples of the frustrations we all experience in the technological world, and no more time today. 


So I may write about them in a Part II. Or not. Depends on if my computer needs to be updated between now and then.