Craving for heart waffles. Darling says we can run a 700 watt appliance – in the summer – and not for very long.
What’s the alternative?
Only half a waffle iron. For only a few dollars more
I could have had the real thing with both halves and the trivet that used to come with it. But I don’t want those, so it would have been a few dollars wasted.
I had a cast iron waffle maker back at that other place I used to live. It was left behind of course. And we say no more about that.
It was the typical round style. Oh, here, Walmart still has them.
When I first got it, I fiddled and fumed, and made a mess, and made another mess, was hot and bothered, frustrated, etc. Then figured out you only need one half. After that, it’s a snap. It works like this.
Easy. Use two burners. Have half a waffle iron and a frypan on the heat at the same time. Pour the batter on the waffle iron, and it ISN’T going to make a mess, because nothing’s going to come down and squish it out all over the landscape. It’s not going to rip apart, because you don’t have to lift anything to check if it’s done enough. When it’s done enough, lift the corners with a fork to loosen them, and flip the whole thing over onto the griddle to cook the back.
Srsly nobody’s going to lift their waffle from the plate to see if both sides are the same.
My darling says (of my infernal honesty), “You’ll have to tell them!”
No, I won’t. This is technically and truthfully a waffle. It’s crispy and made of hearts.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with hearts despite some of the theories of their origins. No shapes are inherently bad. Not gonna digress here (although would love to) but geometry isn’t bad, any more than guns are bad. It’s people who are evil.
I also bought one of these.
It was just so very beautiful. So very swirly, and made my heart sing. My darling is mostly Nordic and has never eaten krumkake, and I felt the need to remedy that.
He still hasn’t eaten krumkake. I made a fantastic mess, and cleaned it up, and made another one, and later tried another method, and grumbled and groaned and lost my temper. The fails weren’t even edible, just scrapings of mess. He may be Norwegian but I’m not, so I couldn’t manage. I’m German and this thing is NOT efficient which means it’s out the door. It’s for sale again. Let me know if you want it.
Oh, he kinda had krumkake because I made him heart-shaped half-waffles with the rest of the batter, with whipped cream and blueberries, and he said three times that it was DELICIOUS!!!
The krumkake recipe called for cardamom. I’ve never even heard of it, and had to look up what to use instead. The internet says to substitute cinnamon and nutmeg, or allspice and cloves. Christmas, basically. Make it smell like Christmas, with whipped cream.
I saw the darling whittling something. He was turning a piece of dowel into a beautiful replacement handle! He oiled it up and, “Now I just have to find the perfect screw!”
Notice the website change?
Messing around again. Tried to adjust the margins on twentytwentyfive mobile view, and ended up mired in similar frustration level as a two-halved krumkake iron. Do I really have to sit in front of this computer when it’s ninety and things aren’t working? I put Kadence back, which is the perfect FOOL proof theme. Fools can make it look personalized, but can’t fiddle with the settings until they make their websites into a pile of mess, as I had done to mine. So here we go again, with a fabbdalous background and not even a header. That’s okay.
Hey, I might have solved the posting thing! And I can break out of my posting doldrum. All the regular chitchat can go here, and the family stuff on MeWe. I had to wrestle with MeWe for a bit (in my overparticular, stubborn noggin) but I’m past it and emerged into the sun on the other side, with a sense of peace (ish) about using it. It’s funded by the users, not the enemy; it’s nothing the same level of objectionable / controlled / controlling as Facebook and simply is not over my boundaries, so, say thanks, Weinstein / Berners-Lee, and here we go.
My mother would let us pick our birthday cake. My sister always had Bonbon Ribbon Torte (layers of thin cookie with raspberry sauce and whipped cream), my brother liked pineapple upside down cake, and I wanted chocolate chip cake. The recipe was something my sister clipped out of a magazine back in the 60s.
Here we are.
Chocolate Chip Cake
2 eggs 1/2 cup butter 1 cup sugar 1 tsp vanilla 1 cup sour cream 1 tsp baking powder 1 tsp baking soda 2 cups flour 12 oz choc chips
Cream soft ingredients together, combine dry and mix.
Bake in greased and floured cake pan at 350° for 45 min or until a toothpick comes out clean.
Messing around with WordPress and having SO MUCH FUN!
I was recently upgraded to version 6.1 while I wasn’t watching (away from keyboard for a while, but automatic updates had been left on) and wouldn’t be all that happy about it except that I’m a WP fan and therefore enthusiastic about whatever they do. Full site editing is the latest thing. I tangled with that for a whole day or two without any luck, then after banging my head against every wall in sight, discovered a series of useful new-to-me things, both related and un.
I had recently installed a WP for my Vicky, promising her that it’s easy and fun and then it turned into everything else but that, because it only takes a few months to suddenly not know what you’re doing any more. Full site editing is too bleeding edge for me, I guess.
But Vicky came up with the FAIRY theme, and it’s every bit as clean and simple as the Basic theme (no kidding, that’s the name of it) that I had been using before, but more up to date. We’re back to the good old days of crop a banner to these dimensions, pick some colors and then get on with our lives. It took me half an hour to produce a brilliant pink candy cane theme from a random image of flowers from Wiki Commons.
To get the images right I downloaded a bunch of “free, easy” image crop things, but eventually they all failed and I had to revert to ibisPaint. I had been avoiding that because I didn’t know how to use it, but after ten minutes of really trying, I started to get it to work and it’s AMAZING and does so much more, not only cropping to dimensions, but semi-transparent layers, clone brushing, etc. And it works offline! I have a new tool!
Speaking of offline. I’ve been wishing and searching for some way to compose posts offline, other than copying and pasting text and assembling with pictures later. Up at my cold new home there’s just one place on the hill where the phone gets signal, not enough to make calls, but texts go through, and emails if they’re brief enough. I can even load images if they’re small enough. But it’s so cold! I don’t want to stand out there a minute longer than necessary. I’d like to compose a post inside where it’s warm, then go outside to the signal spot and hit UPLOAD. I still need to share my fabbdalous nonsense with the world!
The WordPress app does work offline, for composing posts, and queuing images for upload, but cannot, as far as I can see, do both at the same time. Can’t add an image from your device into the post and then upload – or it’s, “failure: image not loaded”. Also can’t upload images in one session and add them to the post in the next – the Media tab forgets them and there’s no way to insert them because, “failure: not connected”. Hmph.
Bouncing around ideas, I even thought for a while of good old html and a text editor. I could share a link to a directory with some basic pages and pictures, then go up to the phone zone, fire up FTP and… argh, there we are, fiddling in the cold with hurting fingers.
Then I found the solution! Posting by email, YAYYY! The “Postie” plugin. They mention “journalists in foreign countries” as the ones who may find this feature useful, but it’s also cool in other cold places, like up on my hill where EMFs are only frying your brains, just a little bit, in one spot.
Now I have this FABBDAlous new theme, AND I can throw some content at it from anywhere!
That came from https://imagecolorpicker.com/ analyzing my picture of flowers. One of the light pinks happens to be #fabbda.
UPDATE:
Nov 2023. Found out Fairy is nagware, and there’s no rage like love to hatred turned. Just when I thought the whole theme thing was settled and not on my to-do list any more, Fairy started popping up with the most ANNOYING messages, top and center of the WP dashboard:
“Hey there! We notice you’ve been using Fairy for some time…” and a request for payment. The way it’s phrased reminds me of a security guard posted at the store entrance: “Hey there! I notice you have an item tucked under your arm…”
I complained on the Fairy theme message board and had a long, frustrating convo with the devs who insist the messages can be got rid of. Sure they can, until next time you sign in.
Anger about that was just the motivation I needed to get me off my lazy butt and do a little bit of reading about FSE. Guess what, I figured it out!
I’m now using Twenty Twenty Three and absolutely love it. Just a bit of work to get over the hump, and now I feel like WordPress is back the way it should have been all along except UNLIMITED power and control. You can make your site look exactly the way you envisioned it, starting from scratch, as easy as drawing a layout on a blank canvas. This is better than CSS alone, better than any super-customizer theme (I’ve tried all of those). You can customize as much or as little as you please.
Wah-hoo, I’m so excited about 6.2! By the time I write this, 6.4 and it just keeps getting better and better.
Long ago when I first read books about dogs, the standard advice was to give your new puppy a hot water bottle and a ticking clock, so it will miss its mother less. As if any baby mammal would not be able to tell the difference between a mother and a clock.
I just checked, and they’ve upgraded the standard advice to at least putting the dog’s pen in your bedroom so it won’t be so lonely, “and if the dog cries, comfort him briefly but don’t make a big deal out of it.”
Still sounds like baby dog abuse to me.
It’s about instinct. A dog on its own is a dead dog. They need the pack. If they find themselves alone, their crying is for survival.
Can you make a human go to sleep in a hammock hung from a steel cable ten stories high? “GO TO SLEEP, stop whining, you’re perfectly safe.”
I say the humans should put their spoiled human self down there on the floor and comfort that poor critter. Here’s my baby dog’s first night home. We had a lovely night.
I slept on the floor with her for the first week, and after that she was comfortable and didn’t mind sleeping in her bed.
Here’s how to tell it’s going to be a grand day!
Here’s the baby dog having her first ride home.
Now she rides on my lap to everywhere!
If she isn’t allowed in my lap for some reason, she’s sad. It’s baby dog abuse 🙁 It doesn’t happen often since my wardrobe now is chosen for how it will look covered in black hair and paw prints, but still, sometimes…
That’s the baby dog’s idea of staying in the back seat.
“Why don’t you love me any more Mommy :-(”
I didn’t pose this one, but here she is along with the shopping bag I made out of her dog food bag!
I loved Facebook and wouldn’t have left. Facebook was an important part of my life.
I made an account almost as soon as it wasn’t just for college students any more, and found a cousin I hadn’t heard from in decades. What great fun to look at his posts and see what he’s up to now! With pictures!
When I looked again a year later, everyone I knew was there.
The great thing about the way Facebook works is that you only see updates from the people you like. If someone’s annoying, you hide that person, and the flip side of that is the reassurance of knowing that if people are seeing your updates, it’s because they choose to. It’s nice to know you can post freely and you’re not spamming anyone.
I used Facebook for years for the “unspoken request” and when I finally escaped my twenty year sentence, I made a couple huge posts finally pouring out the truth I had been hiding for years. A bunch of people commented at once with love and support, so that in an amazing few moments I went from alone and scared to feeling greatly reassured. Friends are what we need, but it was Facebook that made that particular uplifting experience possible.
Do you remember when people first started demanding accountability from Mark Zuckerberg? Long ago someone asked him “Why would people trust you with their personal information?” and his response was “Because they’re dumb f***s.”
But I’d say it’s because they’re enjoying using the system that he invented. It’s their choice. Nobody made them sign up. They decided to trust Mark Zuckerberg, and that’s not stupider than going to the local bar to meet new friends. Facebook was a genuinely cool new concept. (Although really I’m not that impressed with MZ’s genius; with the advent of connectivity it wasn’t a great leap from message boards and personal websites to a central listing with overlapping personal circles.)
I remember when there was a rumor on Facebook that Facebook would start charging a monthly fee. Everybody flew into a frenzy, and posts circulated, “I will NEVER pay Facebook a dime!” There were petitions demanding that Facebook stay free.
Why should it stay free? Is Zuckerberg running a charity? Where’s his funding supposed to come from? Giant servers aren’t cheap, neither are software engineers.
Nothing invented by man is free. Everything is paid for by someone. If you’re not a paying customer, then you’re someone’s guest. If we are not the customers, then who is the customer? The advertisers are the customers. We are the commodity. Our time, attention and personal information is being sold to pay for our use of the Facebook environment.
Well, that was okay with me. I understood and accepted that. I liked Facebook.
The next issue is the marvelous freedom of speech. At first, Zuckerberg was on the side of freedom to a pretty amazing degree, even to announcing he would tolerate Holocaust debate on the site. That was put a stop to at the next level. The ADL ordered advertisers to pull his funding for a month. He got back in line. The ones who actually pay for the site get to decide what’s going to be on it. The ungrateful Facebook users were unwilling to pay even a dime for something they used and enjoyed every day.
You can’t expect things to be free of charge and stay free of control. So, here came the control and it got gradually worse for years, until now we have Facebook choosing a side on health issues and silencing dissent, and teaching us the correct response to having our cities burned.
I was never a giant Trump fan, and yet there is some lingering sentimentality about apple pies, Mom, The Star Spangled Banner, etc. Seems to me there’s a glamour about the office of POTUS that should entitle the holder to a certain degree of respect. At least people should be allowed to listen to what he has to say.
Wait, doesn’t that sound a little funny? If it was some unwashed nobody, “We should at least be able to hear what he has to say.”
It seemed strange to me why Trump would submit to that. He is at least an influential man with a lot of money. He has his own websites where I’m sure his fans would be glad to go to get updates. Why doesn’t he post on them? If he continues to hang around Facebook and Twitter despite the repeated slaps, that seems to reinforce the idea that those sites are IT, and that there’s really no alternative besides just staying around and meekly continuing to try.
I also have a scoff for people who whine about “censorship on big tech”. Being big doesn’t make you public. The rich people who control the big sites have as much right as anyone else to determine how their GUESTS should behave. If you don’t like it, stop being their guest.
If someone comes into my living room and annoys me with his opinions and I throw him out, that’s not censorship. That’s me keeping the atmosphere the way I like it in my living room. Big tech sites have as much right as I do to enforce their terms of service. And then I’ve heard people who SAY they are on the side of freedom and limited government, wanting to get the rules changed to force Facebook tolerate their opinions! If we have a government so coercive that they can take Facebook’s liberty away, they might take mine away, too. If Facebook.com has to give equal time to opposing voices, maybe someday JanelWasHere.com will have to do the same thing. I wouldn’t like that.
I used to hang around message boards in olden days. Sometimes on a board about a specific topic, where everyone’s chatting away happily about the designated topic, someone new joins and starts shooting her mouth off. An argument gets started, a moderator steps in to muffle the troublemaker, and the troublemaker yells, “This is America! I have freedom of speech!” But actually– no. There is freedom of speech on the sidewalk, but not in someone else’s yard. There is freedom of speech on the internet, but not on someone else’s website which is not your website and you haven’t paid for.
Maybe the problem is that some people equate Facebook and Twitter with “the internet”. The internet is free. Facebook and Twitter are private. Facebook and Twitter are to the internet what cafes and bars are to the street. You can do as you like on the sidewalk, but you can’t go into Starbucks and start preaching, singing opera, or jumping on the furniture. They let you in only if you agree to act the way they expect you to act.
Anybody can buy their own home on the internet. It’s $14 a year. You get a domain, “www.yourname.com”, and a domain is just like it sounds. It’s your demesne. It’s your private property. That’s your living room. Your home is your castle. If you violate the law of the land, then a judge can issue a court order and yank your website, but in America at least there’s due process before your right to freedom of expression is taken away from you. So, run your mouth! On YOUR domain.
You also have to pay for monthly hosting, which can sometimes be as little as $4 a month although that’s probably not with a host who will support your privacy. Don’t need to say anything inflammatory? Then you can use a cheap host. Behave yourself. Be a good, quiet little citizen. If enough people do that, then nobody’s paying for the hosts who support privacy, and voila, pretty soon, no more hosts who support privacy. Do you remember the olden days when internet access came with a free website? Whoops, I mean “a website included in the fee” 🙂 But people didn’t bother to learn how to use their websites and nowadays it’s rare to find internet service that includes a site. You’re expected to use “free” social media profiles instead.
And yet understanding all this!
I still loved Facebook and would have stayed. Facebook fills a need. It’s a wonderful service for its original intention, which, as I understand it, is posting status updates about what we had for lunch and sharing pictures of kids and pets with our relatives. That’s all I ever wanted to do there. It was fun. It was cozy. Everyone I knew was there. If I go there to cry, a dozen people tell me it’s going to be okay. If I post about my accomplishments, a dozen people cheer and pat me on the back. I can effortlessly keep up with the people whose lives I’m following.
But then came the very last straw.
Someone commented about my mother’s Facebook profile, and I remembered that she had one. I had set it up for her some six or eight years ago at her request, but she hadn’t looked at it since. She had long since forgotten it existed. I asked if she still wanted it, and she said no, to go ahead and delete it.
I tried to sign in as her. I still had the password. Facebook wanted to send me a code by email to confirm. I entered the code. They wanted to send me a code by text message. I entered that, too. They still didn’t believe me and wanted A PHOTO OF HER DRIVER’S LICENSE.
What?
And that’s the end. There is no chance of getting that. She can barely talk any more, certainly doesn’t know how to take a picture with her phone, let alone how to send it to me. She would never consent to such a thing anyway. So that’s the end of that, and “her” Facebook profile will probably be there until doomsday.
That made me worry. Does Facebook really think it has a right to someone’s government issued ID to confirm identity? I checked the internet and sure enough, it’s actually been going on for a while. Apparently the most common triggers for “verification” are either making a political post that goes viral, or if someone manually flags a profile. People get locked out of their accounts and that’s it. There’s no appeal. You can’t exactly talk to a customer service representative– we don’t PAY for Facebook, remember, so we’re not customers.
Either cough up images of your ID or you’re locked out.
We all have our limits and that one is over mine. It’s not going to happen. I’m not coughing up PAPERS, PLEASE, to some stupid website to regain access to a profile that I created years ago with only an email address.
At that point, I felt urgency. I’d been on Facebook for years, posting every detail and a thousand photos. The thought of being locked out, and yet all that material still up and visible to others as “Janel” as if they represented me, and not even being able to delete it, was unthinkable.
Boy, it hurt, but “my” Facebook profile had to go IMMEDIATELY.
I had so completely relaxed into Facebook by then that there were dozens of “friends” for whom I had no other contact information. I sent out a bunch of messages asking for said contact– while worrying because I know sending out a bunch of PMs is “potentially annoying behavior” that can get you flagged!
I had a sense of racing against the clock. I wanted to get it done quickly and get out of here before Facebook’s algorithm catches me.
Out of all the people I knew in real life, but wasn’t sure off the top of my head I had a phone number or email address for, maybe five responded.
Yay for having friends.
Yay for Facebook’s handy tool for downloading everything! It allowed me to download a 2 gb file with all the pictures, comments, replies, messages, from my entire history of participation. I checked it enough to feel like, yes, that’s everything, or at least “more than enough”, then pulled the plug.
Actually there was a sleep in the middle of this operation. I was locked out of my mother’s profile in the late evening, looked into the problem a little bit, realized “I need to get off Facebook immediately”, and then went to bed. I woke up in the morning with an ominous sense of dread and a pang of regret, because, “I love Facebook! I don’t want to leave! I’m going to be so lonely!”
I’ve always felt sorry for those losers who post on Facebook that they’re leaving Facebook for some snotty reason or other, telling us that Facebook is soooo stupid– ON FACEBOOK. Because without Facebook they don’t have a platform. There’s plenty of sites where you can howl into space but nobody will hear you. So they get in their parting shot, leave Facebook with a prideful huff, and vanish down the memory hole.
I didn’t want to be one of those people. Forgotten. No more audience for my adorable photos. Stuck trying to keep up email conversations, wondering if people are getting tired of me and wishing I would quit so that they wouldn’t feel obligated to write back. Or they don’t write back and the conversation dies and I never hear from them again– although it’s usually me who is guilty of not replying.
Well, I got out of bed, walked over to the computer and deleted my Facebook.
Now what?
What will I do instead? That’s the dilemma and challenge. It is the friends themselves who are valuable. If friends are valuable, then I’m just going to have to put in some honest effort. I’m going to have to think of something. Friends and family are important and we must find a way to communicate.
I’ve been making more phone calls. I’ve been writing more emails. Not very many more. But I’ve been trying. For my birthday I got two texts and one phone call, which is rather cold and silent compared to the piles of FB comments that I’d usually get just because Facebook friends (and relative strangers) type a greeting into the birthday box to make it go away. Hey. It was still nice.
But then, have I said happy birthday to anyone this year besides immediate family? Do I even know anyone’s birthday besides immediate family? Maybe I need a birthday list on the wall like the olden days. Maybe I need to put in some EFFORT.
For my birthday, I had a couple of kids and one wonderful husband with me in real life and we ate cake! That makes me the luckiest person!
I haven’t shared any photos of the occasion because I still haven’t figured out a convenient way to do it. I have my website, of course, but sharing quite everything to the world at large might be a bit much. If I really want to live by my own advice and use only services that I have a right to use, I’d have to either password protect a page, or email the photos straight to those people whom I think might want them.
Sigh.
It’s such a bother. It’s not easy and smooth and fun like on Facebook.
I wish I could have stayed.
Now. If you want to get technical (and I love getting technical), Facebook rejected me, not the other way around. I hadn’t noticed their terms of service changed, because, like most people, I had been agreeing to the updates without reading them. The latest Facebook TOS says you have to use your legal name. If you don’t agree, then you’re not complying with the terms and you’re obligated to remove your profile and go away. Otherwise you’re lying, stealing, and breaking a voluntary contract.
There is an interesting Facebook alternative called MeWe. It claims to care about your privacy and offers levels of membership. Do we trust Weinstein more than Zuckerberg? MeWe is endorsed by Tim Berners-Lee, who invented the internet as the rest of us know it, i.e. the World Wide Web. That’s the www part of the URL and was a stunning leap forward in communication, a total world changer, allowing all of us the visibility of all of us.
MeWe’s TOS includes permission to call yourself by any handle you prefer. That’s something, at least. So I go there when I’m particularly missing Facebook. There are kittens to giggle over and funnies to share with the three people I know who have accounts. I can post about my breakfast. Will MeWe succeed? That depends on whether it gets customers who care enough about freedom and privacy to pay for subscriptions. I would if I had extra money, just to make the point, but I already have an online presence and that’s enough spending for now.
Update: I made a Facebook profile. Some local organizations don’t even do mailing lists any more. They only have a Facebook page, probably because it’s easy. My new Facebook profile consists only of my name and link. I’m not treated well. If I comment, even on family, my comments get held for moderation. So– NOPE. I won’t comment. Phooey on you. I’m just here to look, kinda like walking by the party and looking in the windows.
Whatever. This is my home, HERE. Welcome to my site.
I remember ripping an ad out of an old magazine when I was a kid. I don’t know where the picture went. When the internet became a thing, I started looking for it online but never with any luck, until I just today thought of asking the AI.
Me: Can you find a picture for me? It was in a magazine I saw back in the 80s (but could have been from an older magazine) I think it was an ad for some kind of whiskey. It had a mountain man out in the woods wearing a long fur coat.
ChatGPT: I’m pretty sure you’re remembering the Yukon Jack campaign—tagline “The Black Sheep of Canadian Liquors.” Late-70s/early-80s print ads often showed a fur-clad trapper/mountain man by a snowy lake or forest, sometimes quoting Robert Service. Here are examples of the exact layout and imagery from that series.
Me: YES THAT’S IT!!!! That’s wonderful, thank you, I always thought that looked so romantic.
ChatGPT said: I’m glad I could track it down for you! ✨ Those old Yukon Jack ads really leaned into that rugged, romantic frontier vibe—half whiskey promotion, half daydream of living out in the wild with a fur coat and a campfire.
HA. The machine gets it!
Yes indeed. I remember looking at that ad as a teenage girl and thinking that there is a real man, who no doubt sewed that coat together himself, out of the skins of things that tried, and failed, to eat him.
I’ve been looking for that ad since my darling started talking about Alaska. He was going to go up to Alaska in an old wood boat to see if he could survive the winter.
I didn’t miss that “IF”.
Well, the boat part didn’t work out.
And I’m just as glad we didn’t go to Alaska after he told me it rains more than western Washington! I’ve been trying to escape the consarned rain for thirty years now.
We went east and got just the good parts instead, the snow and trees and the c-c-c-cold. Break out the fur.
(I didn’t kill that poor little furry dude. He’s a third-hand donation.)
Boy, sometimes I just need to talk! Oh yes, I talk to my darling and I’m so grateful we still have things to talk about. We’re not bored of each other after three years! If there’s nothing to do, we can sit and talk about things and we are entertained.
Sometimes I need to write. I gotta share with the world at large. But then, there’s this awful writer’s block lately, like I don’t know where to start, and there’s so much to say it feels like a six foot water balloon and I’m holding a pin.
The beauty of the internet is that I don’t have to worry about boring anyone. If they’re bored, the page impression will be 4 seconds.
I used to write looong letters to random friends/relatives who hadn’t necessarily indicated any interest in receiving such, and then I’d have to hear, “Wow, you really write a lot!”
If anybody gets through the blog, it must be because they read a lot 🙂
Facebook was so cool, with those overlapping circles. Since people can hide each other and the other never knows the difference, I can rest assured that if anybody sees what I post, it’s because they still want to.
Maybe an emotionally healthy person would feel the way I used to feel, that writing letters to people is a gift. But by now I’ve heard “wow, you sure do write a lot” enough times that I’m hesitant to share. I don’t like bugging people.
Realizing I am autistic helps that make more sense. I’ve read several places that this habit of sending “too-long” letters is indeed an Aspie trait.
I guess the typicals write cute little one page missives with nothing in them, kinda like when they get together and talk to each other about nothing for hours – and have the crazy idea that they’re “getting to know” each other even though they can talk for years without really getting to anything that matters.
They say “we weren’t at the stage yet” to talk about the good stuff. Are we ever? So we waste time with sports / cooking / weather / travel for years, then one day the truth comes out and find out that “friend” is on the other side. So all that time was just passing entertainment, or a maybe at least useful connections for when it comes time to need help moving, or populating special occasions.
And some people, when they find out their friends are completely different on the big ideas, will change to suit the group! I find that baffling. I say, might as well drop the big stuff earlier and not waste time.
I’ve had a couple opportunities lately to be put in a position to “get to know someone better” by enduring a period of interchange with good manners and small talk.
In case they can be useful in the future? Hmph. I tend to clam up around people easily enough anyway, now make schmoozing an obligation because I want something you have, and there’s a recipe for stubborn silence. Just go home. (Hooray! Now I have a home to go to!)
On the contrary, if someone stays in my presence for a while and doesn’t pick at me, I’ll probably divulge my entire life story and enjoy doing it. In person at least you can tell by the body language whether they are still interested or not. How do you do that by email?
I miss Facebook, I really do. I want to be HIDDEN by all of those who are bored.
Well, here I am. Here, I can go on without self-consciousness. Like Facebook, if they see me, it’s because they made the choice.
Look what my darling found on the road the other day, and brought home to me!
She may have been run over. She’s a lil bit squashed and battered. Just like me.
I was delighted to receive her, but concerned about who may have lost her.
My husband happened to have a friend with him at that moment, and the friend, seeing my worry, suggested, “Maybe you should put up a lost and found poster?”
Oh, that’s a great idea!
My son interpreted – “I think he was kidding.”
Maybe he was.
I wasn’t.
Oh yeah. The premise. “What are we all doing here?”
If you’re still here, you know what I mean about going on and on XD
This is a place for me to go on and on without self-consciousness.
I put that Barbie pattern up aeons ago, and people liked it, to the point janelwashere.com is found, and feels ever so slightly like a storefront. I only want to put useful, public-oriented stuff there. So that’s less like “my play room” now.
Seven years and up. That means me. I’m older than seven!
I made a post called “A Doll I Didn’t Buy / Purpose of This Subdomain” to talk about her, but then I bought her.
She was ten bucks. I’m an adult. I can buy whatever I want to XD
I want to be one of those old ladies who sits among piles of lace and ribbons, dressing dolls!
