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