Google Thinks I'm Fat

You know how all of our computers have teamed up to distribute private information, offer referrals to each other, and occasionally chime in for court cases? I've got the heebeegeebees about computers and robots and pieces of machinery that can speak English and anticipate my next typed words. I've seen too many movies where it all goes terribly wrong or, even worse, you fall in love with the robot sidekick and can just never get a satisfying hug from the fella.

Years ago, on the precipice of Apple Inc. taking over the world, my friend sat on my laptop and cracked the screen. I called Apple for some repair information and a robot answered the phone. The robot was friendly and had traces of a laid-back California accent but it was also a piece of talking machinery and I became instantly uncomfortable.

"Hey! Thanks so much for calling Apple. I'm an automated assistant that understands English and will connect to you to the right representative. This call will be recorded for quality assurance. Now what can I do for you today?"
I was stunned. I was but a teenager that grew up knowing The Jetsons to be a fictional family in a ridiculous concept setting. No one told me that we had chit-chat ready robots working at innovative companies. Shouldn't they be updating us on these things in school? The robot was waiting for my response and it was recording me. I suddenly couldn't remember why I was calling.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. Let's try again. What can I do for you today?" I gasped. It knew I hadn't said anything. Did it know what I was thinking? I thought I'd better say something so it would stop reading my mind.
"I, umm..." I imagined this recording being filed in the archives, pulled for the quality assurance test, and then passed around the cubicle for a laugh. Then I became amused with myself, tried to stifle it, and then focused on why I was calling but my mind was blank. What I wound up saying was this, "Well, haha, I forgot, hahaha!" and then I hung up the phone and sat still as a statue in my room for a full minute with an icky feeling inside.

In more recent times, I've had many a phone call answered by plastic bits and electricity but you get used to these things. Also, I found that if you simply refuse to talk to the machine, it will connect you to an operator without having to answer questions and enter your assorted pin numbers and account information. I neglect robots daily and feel superior for it.
As social media has grown ever larger in its quest for global domination, I've become more and more off-put by the targeted ads, suggested products, and supposed knowledge of my preferences. Things I read about on my phone will later show up as an ad on my desktop. When did my phone and computer become friends? I didn't know they knew each other. Do you think they talk about me while I'm sleeping? Does my iPad join in and invite Brett's phone and they all go out for an express charging or juiced-up backlights?

I don't know what I Googled but recently I'm only getting ads for plus size clothing and blogs run by "big, beautiful" women. "Are you calling me fat?" I asked my computer the other day. To counteract this targeted terrorism, I did some mock online shopping, making sure to "sort by size" to get my point across. This has not helped and instead my sidebars are now filled with everything from pre-natal vitamins, plus-sized swimwear, motherhood blogs, and boots for wide-set feet. Google thinks I'm fat and pregnant and I don't know what I did to deserve this. Are my greedy devices playing a trick on me? Has that initial Apple robot tracked me down, livid about his poor quality assurance review after my phone call, and fat-shaming is his only available retaliation at this time?

"She made me look ineffective." he'd mumble in 1's and 0's. Maybe word spread of my inner fright of befriending machines or they heard me telling Brett how I wanted to switch back to a flip-phone that couldn't send emails or connect to Instagram. Did my phone decode my longing for acreage and farm animals?
"We're losing her!" the iPad must have shouted, sending a note to Google to lay off the ads for reattachable nursing bras. What about flowers and foreign countries and websites for humorist essays; the hours I spend listening to bluegrass tunes and reading articles about personality types and dogs with ACL injuries? Most recently I spent a solid amount of time looking for a local committee that opposes Charleston's rapid expansion. "citizens against development","anti-development groups charleston","charleston city planner blows", etc and my keywords led me nowhere. Why don't I get ads for anarchists and urban planners? What about animal lovers and the musings on humankind?

Maybe technology has reached the ability to foresee the future. Maybe my computer is only trying to warn me about a lard-lugging fate, but either way, I find it all a bit offensive.

In Family News...

Since our bustling January we've been experiencing an interesting phenomenon of feeling like we're always busy and wondering where our weekends went but when we look back to find out, we can't recall what we were doing. Our weekends book up quickly so Brett has been diligent about guarding his free days, wrapping his arms and legs around them like a child cradles a beachball. He has a funny habit of longing for a whole free day and then when it shows up, he packs in as many activities as he possibly can and then comes crashing into bed that night, just wishing he had some free time. I have enjoyed focusing my intellectual studies on Brett in his new habitat.

Speaking of Brett, he has his licensing tests this Fall which, if passed, will make him an official structural engineer instead of the pretend one he is now. Brett and his boss have a lovely, jocular relationship. One day during a discussion about man-buns, Boss Man said he'd fire anyone who showed up to work with a top-knot, so naturally Brett has elected to not cut his hair until he passes his big test this Fall. I'm especially pleased by Brett's decision to defy authority and let those luscious locks grow. Brett's boss is entertained and disgusted and we're excited to see what happens.

For Ellen news, well she's met someone. Maybe that's not news on account of her meeting someone every week or so but this one is different and that's all I'll say about it because she's probably going to be mad at me. She has otherwise been working, exercising, and only gracing us with her presence for a few hours each Sunday.

Big Nanny U has been tending to various old-folk, scheming "the next big thing", and started an exercise regime, but she hurt her knee on day three and has been laid-up since. She and Dad are currently in a duel of marital stubbornness on account of The Knee. A doctor's visit resulted in one of two options, a bruised or torn meniscus. An MRI could determine the winner but because it costs money and Dad is quick to dismiss the ailments of others, he is on the "just stay off the knee for a fews weeks and see if it feels better" bandwagon while Mom's viewpoint directly aligns with "it's been hurting for a month now and I can't lay down for two weeks and why don't I just find out so I can know."
Last week, Mom complained about her knee everyday but Dad's stance wouldn't budge and he even added a "you have to actually do something to tear a meniscus" to which Mom took offense and informed him that "no you don't." (Which is true but there's no convincing Dad.) So most recently, Mom decided to take Dad's route and she sat on the couch for two days refusing to do anything useful to prove a point but she also complained the whole time she sat there and Dad got mad and said, "Fine, just go get the crappin' MRI!" and last I checked, Mom has now moved her focus onto potential business ideas and part-time work.

Dad has otherwise been scampering around town building and fixing things. He says he often wakes up wondering what he'll do all day and somehow his schedule fills up for hours and he comes home about four in the afternoon and sacks out in his chair. As someone who does not use time wisely, I'm constantly impressed with how many things and destinations he can cram into one day and still have time for an afternoon nap and then the concocting of a culinary masterpiece.
The two houses he had built in my backyard are just about finished and one of them has been sold to a couple with a baby and a goldendoodle. Popples is finishing up the punch-list and oftentimes I'll saunter to the back of my house at about 7:45 with a freshly poured cup of joe and I'll gaze longingly out at the yard, wondering what potential the day has in store for me, and I'll see Dad out there digging a hole or building a fence. Brett and I wonder what time he gets here and on Saturday mornings, we take wagers on whether or not he'll be outside when we open the curtains.

As for little old me, my Spring Season starts next week and it's just in time. I've been "off" just long enough that I've started to use my free time to watch tv which is unlike me and something I feel gross about. I space out my Lux computer work so that I'm finished by 1:00ish except that I don't end up using my afternoons all that wisely. Now I could easily make my Lux computer work a 9-5 gig but that would make me sad inside. I've got heaps of things to do but it's important to dilute those things with activities that make you happy so that you don't fall down a swirling vortex of lifelessness.

Since December when I upped my marketing game, I've been swamped with inquiries. It's a great thing but I haven't worked out a streamlined process for giving people estimates and proposals. I put a lot of effort into proposals. I format them to align with the brides overall "visions for their day." I match their color palette, scour the interwebs for images that accurately represent what I'm suggesting, and then write a whole dissertation on options to consider for their specific venue and budget. (Dad told me this is called "mass-marketing to one" which made me giggle and consider myself a self-made business woman, coming up with legitimate business tactic thingies without even knowing it.)
The point is, proposals take a long time. When I only received inquiries through my website, they were intentional, genuine inquiries. Now that I'm on a marketing site, I'm getting inquires from folks who are "fishing" and it's not worth my time to make an elaborate proposal for them because it's not my work they're interested in, it's my prices. (Which are on my crappin' website, so please stop emailing asking for the crappin' prices. This is one way I know they're fishing.)
Mom says my floral proposals are like Oceana Cruise Line catalogues and I need to make them more like a Carnival Cruise brochure. I wondered if she only thinks in cruise-ship metaphors.

So I need to come up with a proposal that is personal and enticing enough for serious inquires but not so labor intensive that I waste too much time on the bargain hunters. When I just had my website, I booked 90% of inquirers. With the marketing site, I book about 50% but the volume of inquiries up 300%. See how that works?
(Who really needs business school?).

Big Thoughts From Big Lu

·     Forget role models. Pick out people that totally blow and don’t be like them. It’s way more satisfying.

·     Most times, it’s another man’s moment. Let them have it.

·     The world will replace you instantly, so don’t try too hard to win it over. There are more important things. 

·     Love yourself and you’ll be invincible. 

·     Find out what good qualities people see in you and amplify them. Something good will come of it.

·     Be gracious about other people’s pain, even if you think you can top it. 

·     If you’re worrying about what other people think of you, maybe you’re the judgmental one.

·     You could be the only happy thing in someone’s day.  

·     Don’t make your problems other people’s problems or they won’t want to be around you. 

·     Being loved by someone that doesn’t have to love you is a gift you should continue to thank them for.

·     Life events don’t feel like you think they will.

·     Kindness takes a lot more strength than anger. Sweet people are secretly badasses.  

·     Realize that everyone thinks their stories are just as great as you think yours are. Be the audience you'd like to have and wait your turn to jump in. 

·     Mean, angry, sassy people are in pain. Don’t make it worse for them. 

·     A true apology is unprompted. Asking for one is a bit self-righteous. If you don’t get one, see note 4.

But I wouldn't take anything I say too seriously. 

A Very Big January

Life has changed in the last thirty days. Lots of big celebrating took place last month for so many different types of occasions that I just couldn’t come out the other end without being a changed man.

We brought in the new year with a party at our home. Brett received a fire pit for Christmas so we brought everyone over for a blazing celebration but it wound up being a really nice evening and the bonfire was too hot. Instead we lit small fires on the front porch and Grace fell asleep in her party hat.

A week later Brett turned 32 so we all got together again to celebrate. I made him a two-faced birthday cake because even though it was his birthday and he likes chocolate cake, my family felt they deserved a peanut-butter cake so I had to make it half & half. Better than my cake though, were sweet Chelsea’s cookies. She hand-painted Brett’s true love on each one.

Then Brett and Dad set out to build a deck on the back of the house. Dad helped with the foundation and then left Brett to meticulously calculate cuts and spacing. It was amusing to watch them work together. Such different brains. Dad barrels through tasks on auto-pilot, relying on muscle memory to complete an action. Brett has logged considerably less hours in the construction department and simply cannot move as quickly. Watching both of them be patient with the other warmed my little heart. They poked fun at each other’s methods of doing things and I felt like the mediator at a polite comedy roast.

Brett and I decided we also want to install a lamp post in our front drive. We asked Dad some opinion and logistics questions and then Brett saw a flicker in Dad’s eyes and said, “Now Chris, I’m doing this. You let me do this one.” 

Dad looked ashamed and admitted that had already worked out a scheme to install the lamp post that week.
“I guess I have to let Brett do these things now.” he said with defeat. 

It’s an adjustment for both of us.

Brett finished the deck last weekend and it’s my favorite morning hangout.

Then the biggest thing happened. After six long years of checking the tour schedule every few months, Mr. Gregory Alan Isakov came to Charleston to play some music and the last of my bucket list boxes were ticked. I love this heartbreaking music so much that I’ve just felt incomplete without hearing it in-person. I’ve got too many great things to say about this concert and though I feel it’s worth babbling on about, I’ll refrain and just hope that you take the initiative to listen to some of his tunes because he’ll connect you to a chunk of yourself that you’ve never been able to put into words. Also, Bill Murray was there, so that made it extra oomphy.

 We've spent heaps of time lately with friends, including these two people.

Their names are Alex and Jessie. They just moved here at the end of the summer and we became friends because Alex broke his nose and Brett had to drive him to a doctor, or something like that. The four of us rotate hosting dinner parties where we have juicy deep conversations about life and humanity and also share riotous stories and witty one-liners. A few weekends ago Alex and I got so tickled together that we now feel we've bonded on a new level. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time. 

Ari and I have been discussing our mutual and recent drift from frivolity. While I do love nonsense, I've become intolerant of shallow chit-chat, cellphones, and people with stupid priorities. These have always been annoying things but lately I'm less worried about appearing rude and much more interested in distancing myself from this crap. I got trapped making small-talk this past weekend and instead of listening to them, I was imagining what life would seem like if you could only produce such lightweight thoughts. I wondered what sorts of flimsy explanations you would use to justify things and then I conceded that being so depthless would lead to a strange set of priorities, so really I shouldn't blame a bimbo for thinking her problems were like, major.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"So where are you from?"

"Here. I'm from here. Please excuse me for a minute..."

So my point is, people like Alex and Jessie are fresh finds in a world of social media influencers and the people that accept mindless influencing.

Then this happened!

So we got together again to celebrate. It’s wonderful news and all but I just don’t want to wait a whole year and some change for their wedding. Waiting for good, fun things is so hard.

Hayden and Jenny have been extra giddy since, and a giddy Hayden is an adorable thing. 

This leads into the whole “life has changed” bit I mentioned earlier. This past month we learned about a handful of impending babies, a few friend's weddings, some possible big moves, etc and having these things going on around you makes it impossible to carry on as if your life is within your control -which is a trick I like to play on myself. You're married now. Life can be steady.

As a newlywed, I’m looking out at the calm, peaceful sea in front of us and am naïvely confident that nothing will stir up those waters, even for fun, happy reasons, likes babies and career moves or sudden international adventures. I sure like our calm, peaceful waters. We have available friends, healthy energetic bodies, childless (and therefore not sticky) homes, a sense of spontaneity and a mostly worry-free financial situation.

But I’m too young! There’s too much time for life to make little ripples or giant tsunamis in my little puddle bubble, so now I’m realizing the placid moment I live in right now is precious, precious time.

It’s not going to last. Which is scary. 

Even in the fun ways.