Tuesday, December 2, 2003
This fall Stan and I noticed a noticable difference in our cellphone's ability to keep its battery charge, especially while we were travelling. We said we should inquire about getting a new battery from our phone company. We never did. We spent our days off going to greenhouses instead. (yeah, addicts) But the final straw happened this weekend while it was charging...Lucifer Sam ran into the bedroom, knocking the cellphone to the floor. The phone itself was allright, but the little thingy that you plug into it to charge it broke, so yesterday we went to get not only a new battery, but a new charger as well. They brought up our account and said we were eligible for a "free upgrade" which entitled us to a new phone. Of course they wanted to sell us a new expensive phone with "new" technology which didn't even have half the coverage that our current phone has. !?!?!?! (yeah, that's real practical when travelling) So we opted for the "free" phone ($18 processing charge, of course...nothing is really free) with the old technology and same coverage. It's just so weird to think that it would've cost us about $60-70 or so to get a new charger and new battery for our former "Baby Phone" whereas we just got a "replacement" phone for a fraction of the price.
Doesn't that seem wrong? Or backward? My mom's parents didn't get a telephone until the 50s...I think around the time my mom went to college. But my grandmother had that same black rotary phone forever until she moved out of her house in the early 1980s. My parents had this ugly beige (ew...the beige era) rotary phone since the time they bought their house in the early 70s (I think it came with the house! And who knows how long the previous owners had it...that was the time when telephones weren't YOUR property...it was the phone company's property) until sometime in the early 90s. When Stan and I moved in together we bought this cheap plastic hot pink phone that we still have in storage in the basement. It's just strange that a whole new item is cheaper than getting replacement parts. It's a different mindset. And I'm afraid it may have a negative effect on those who are completely immersed in and accustomed to it (as opposed to luddites like me that are befuddled by it) as far as their interactions with people, animals, society and the environment. But of course...they don't care. And that's my point.
But less seriously...
We didn't hand over our old phone...I know that they recycle these things, but the phone still has all our phone numbers and info in it...I don't want to have those get into the hands of who knows who. So we kept it...a dead phone...dead Baby Phone. We joked and said we had it euthanized, that we had parental rights taken away because we let its battery get defective and we dropped it on its head and left it alone with the dog who bit it. But we got a new phone. And as I was leaving the cell store, I said to it, "I can't call you Baby Phone, Baby Phone's gone. I'll call you Shelly." Strange cactus humour. Go watch Kalifornia.
Posted by Ann on 12/02/03@09:38 AM CST ..::Link::..
DREAMs...three different ones
I was trying on bras. I think Tim was with me. Someone told me I needed to wear a size BB or CC or BC cup. I asked them why the double letter...wasn't that just reserved for sizes at opposite ends of the spectrum...huge sizes like EE or training bra (flatchested) sizes like AA? They said it was because I had round breasts. Tim said that a BB or CC size is good. Like Tim cares about women's breasts! LOL!
I was watching something on TV, or maybe it was "reality" (i.e., "dream reality" as opposed to watching it on tv in a dream...make sense?). There was this old western marshall, like Matt Dillon from Gunsmoke, going around collecting people's firearms in an old western town. Weird. He was wearing leather chaps and everything.
Stan and I were at one of his mom's houses, either his adopted mom's or his biological mom's...I don't know which because I think both were present. I remember decks and patios and getting together for a very large dinner. Marcia, Stan's adopted sister, was invited. She came late, and she brought some mousey Christian couple (the woman looked like that one mousey brunette woman that Tim worked with...with the eyebrows...that came to your opening, Stan...with Christie...what was her name?) and their kid with her...guess she met them at her church or something. THEY were not invited. They felt really out of place and moused (ha! just made that verb up...love it...so perfect) together off in a corner, yet they were still eating the food. I thought that was very rude of them, as well as Marcia.
Posted by Ann on 12/02/03@08:40 AM CST ..::Link::..
Monday, December 1, 2003
DREAMs and such
I can't remember the dreams that I had the past two nights very well, other than last night I was travelling somewhere southwest of Madison and crossing traintracks while the red lights were flashing. The night before last I dreamt a woman Stan and I used to know came to our door and Stan answered it againt his better judgment.
I keep having these dreams that these people best left in the past are coming back to talk to me. Maybe because it does happen. People you haven't seen for years and years suddenly get up the courage to make contact again, for whatever reason. And usually they should just remain in the past.
I'm not talking about the people you see infrequently...the people that live out of state that you only see once every other year anyway. They never left you. I'm talking about the people who you abruptly stop hearing from. Or those that you abruptly end the relationship with. Or those who you've drifted from to the point that the relationship died a natural death of old age.
And you wonder why they want contact with you again when there's no common ground to be had. These people all share one common trait--they are very self-centered--it's almost as if they want you solely as another name for their address book, not because they really want to regain a mutally-satisfying friendship. You talk about your life and tell them what you've been doing. But they don't care. They don't really want to know you again. So why did they bother?