Kathy Bassett: I'll stick with cow pies and gooseberries


Kathy Bassett

Kathy Bassett's column, "The View from Maybell," appears in the Saturday Morning Press.

Good grief.

IPods, cell phones, DVRs, DVDs, MP3s, GPSs and all that sorta stuff? I never heard of some of these things, I don't know what they do, and I don't wanna know what they do.

OK, so I'll admit it.

My kids and friends decided I need a cell phone. Oh ya. And one of the GPS things.

I put my foot down on the rest of the stuff I don't understand. It is hard enough trying to figure out the cell phone. I can make calls, and I can get calls. Forget the camera thing. Why would you want a camera on your phone?

Sometimes I accidentally hit the camera button when I'm trying to turn the phone on and then I have pictures of my toes or Ani's face. I rarely use the phone, and every month I have all these minutes just flushing down the drain because I didn't use them.

Texting? I don't have a clue. I hear people talking about it, but if you were to get a text message from me asking you how you were, it would look like this: xco erz tpl//

And now they have a cell phone that has a typewriter, computer and games - all kinds of stuff. Can you talk on it?

My friend in California was tickled a couple years ago because she had a new Blackberry phone. It was red. I asked her why they didn't call it a strawberry or raspberry phone?

Everyday you hear words Twitter and Tweeter, Twhirl, Tweetie, Twitpix - and I get more confused.

I thought Twitter was some kind of giggle about a joke and Tweetie was your sweetheart. I think someone else made up all the other words.

I'm positive that my cell phone was sending secret messages to the new GPS I had acquired. When I first got it, we got along great and went on some wonderful memory trips.

But, then things changed.

I firmly believe my GPS came down with a permanent case of PMS. Talk about rude. She started telling me to turn where I couldn't possibly turn. She even tried to get me into trouble with the Colorado State Patrol when she tried to get me to turn right, down into a ditch, bust down a fence and drive through some guy's corn field.

I sent her in for repairs, but she somehow found her way back to me.

I went to visit my daughter in (shudder) Minneapolis/St. Paul. Big city, big trouble for me.

I hate city driving. It's hard enough to remember that when I go to town, I must remember to drive on my side of the road.

Living in the country, everyone just takes the whole road and enjoys the scenery. You can spot someone coming for a mile because of the dust clouds boiling up ahead.

Well, Ms. Garmin - my GPS - gets me right downtown and then, without warning, up and suddenly tells me to make a left-hand turn. Holy Cow.

I'm in the right lane of a one-way, four-lane highway with traffic everywhere and a couple big underpasses, and she's telling me to turn left.

That is when I knew for certain my cell phone was plotting. I quickly noticed that off to the left was a big grassy area with streetlights, curbs and a one-car opening on my left.

I heehawed at grandma and yelled, "Hey! We are from four-wheel drive country, Colorado, so hang on!"

I gave that big ol' truck a goose, and we flew up over the curbs, shot into the underpass with flying colors and headed on our way.

I think it took a week for grandma's fingerprints to ease their way out of the dashboard, and Ani is used to things the way they are.

Yeppers, I ain't a city girl.

I'd just as soon stay home and shovel cow pies and let others poke fun at me for doing it.

And I love gooseberry pie, and gooseberries don't have any connection to phones that I know of.

My cell phone is shut off somewhere in the truck. My GPS sits forlornly on top of the bookcase wondering if there will ever again come a day when she will be needed, but I'm not letting those two get together, not anymore.


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