Jul. 23, 2009 - Just Text Me
Beware...this is a LONG post. I would never have been able to send this via text message...
These were among my husband’s last words to me before I left yesterday morning for a day long trip: “Text me when you get there,” he said. Sure, said I. At 15 cents per message it’s a pretty economical way to keep in touch.
I was meeting my sister for lunch at a town about 500 km from where I live. It seems like a long way to go for lunch. But the real reason for the trip was to take my 9 year old daughter to spend a week and a half with my sister’s 9 yr old daughter. The two girls would go to camp together and spend a few days at my sister’s house and then they’re all coming to visit us here.
So the three of us, me and my two youngest girls, set out from home at 6:30 yesterday morning. When we made a pit stop at a town 1 ½ hours later I decided that this “texting” would be a fun way to keep my husband informed as to our whereabouts. I soon decided this was not as much fun as it sounded like.
Now, I am not unconnected with today’s technology. In fact, one of my teenage daughter’s friends has declared that I am a “cool” mum because I have Facebook. I’ve been connected to the internet (mainly for the life-line to friends and family across the country) since the mid-90s. We got our first cell phone back in 1996, just in time to really appreciate it when I went into labour and had to call my husband home from the marina. I also happen to be married to a techno-geek. Even my father (a 70-something techno geek) is connected. However, at 43 I don’t seem to have the nimble teen fingers necessary for this new verb “texting.”
I will save the topic of vocabulary for another post because I could speak for some time about the new words that have developed in the past few years. We used to “message” someone, once again using a noun as a verb. Then phones began to hold the ability to send a “text message” which makes perfect sense, but the “messaging” has now been shortened to “texting” once again creating a new word to fill in where technology has advanced beyond the current available vocabulary.
Nevertheless, I let him know that we had made a pit stop and our location so he could track our progress on this trip. Then we piled back into the car and headed out on the road once again.
The night before my husband had informed me that he had made sure the map was in the driver’s door so I would have it at my disposal. “It’s a pretty straightforward route, but thanks,” I replied half-heartedly. After all, I’ve done this trip several times and it is an easy route – just head west and keep going until you get there. There are a couple of turns that need to be made, but they’re clearly marked. Aren’t they?
Apparently not. At one point the highway makes a 90 degree curve to the south. I was pretty sure that we had made that curve, but where was the right turn I needed to make shortly thereafter? I thought we had come too far that surely we must have passed it. To make matters worse (or maybe better) I vaguely recalled a road flying past that I had not seen any signage for. Surely it would have been marked with a large green sign bearing the name of the next town I was to pass through. Wouldn’t it?
Well, it turns out it was, but I was at that time following a large truck. I hate following large trucks because I can’t see anything until I am right beside it, and then either I miss it or it’s too late to react to it anyway. Apparently on this occasion I missed it.
I saw a sign for two upcoming towns – towns I was NOT supposed to pass through. There was what looked like a town ahead, so, grabbing the map, I decided quickly not to turn back but to find an alternate route west and then north back to the highway I was supposed to be on. Fortunately this proved quite easy, and the time lost on this unanticipated detour was minimal.
Back on track we made good time. I thought we would be able to reach our destination without another stop, but just before the last town before our destination, one of the girls said she needed a stop. Urgently.
So we stopped and I sent another painstaking text message to my husband. We should arrive at our rendezvous by 12:15. Perfect.
However, just beyond the town we ran into a stretch of construction. A LONG stretch of construction. We had to wait twice, drive at 50 km/h for quite a distance, and coming out the other side had a long line of traffic that took some time to spread out and allow highway speeds again. Fortunately the waits were not long, and we arrived at our destination by 12:35, only 20 minutes later than anticipated.
My sister had arrived at 12:10, so she had a bit of a wait for us, and once we arrived the girls immediately began to talk about all the plans they would make for the upcoming week. My nephew is close in age to my youngest, and the 6 of us had a lovely lunch at Subway. The days leading up to this trip Emily had prayed, “Give us a safe trip to Subway.” I think she was most excited about the prospect of eating out – and not only that but twice in one day!
Once we had our food and sat down I dutifully “texted” my husband so he would know we had arrived safely. As I complained about how annoying this process is my sister laughed at me and said she was glad she wasn’t the only one. I commented that I need my teenager to do the texting for me. I explained that the way my phone does the messages is that I type all the letters I want and it gives me options based on the 3 or 4 letters available for each number I pressed, and I choose which word I want to send. The whole process is much longer than if I could simply press the number the correct number of times for the letter I wanted. For example, if I could press the 2 twice for a B or 3 times for an E that would be much easier. She agreed. I explained that my phone used to do it that way, but then it got changed to this more annoying way, but since I changed it by accident I had no idea how to change it back. She laughed at me again. Then I wanted to tell my husband that I would be home around 7:00, only I don’t know how to make the numbers type actual numbers instead of the letters, so I spelled out “sevin.” Sevin? No, that’s wrong. My brain must have taken a left turn at
After a nice lunch and visit, we gassed up, said good bye to my daughter who was already having a fantastic time with her cousin, and my youngest and I headed back towards the east.
The construction held us up even less time on the return trip, for which I was thankful. We passed through the first town heading east after which I would need to make a left turn in order to stay on the correct highway. After the detour in the morning, I was sure to stay alert to all road signs! However, when I am doing something for a prolonged period wherein my brain is not fully engaged, my brain tends to find something else to do, usually it makes up stories and blog posts. Times like when I’m standing on parade and can’t hear the speeches anyway, and when driving long distances. That is how I write. It’s not so much that I love to write, although I do, but that I am compelled to write. These narratives form in my brain on these occasions when it has nothing else to focus on, and the trick then becomes remembering it later when I’m able to write it down. I often open a Word document and stare at the blank page trying to remember how it all began. That first sentence often takes almost as long as the whole rest of the story. Once I begin, then it comes, though it is usually not quite as entertaining as it was in my head the day before. If only I could put an audience in my brain…they would be regaled with witty stories that would keep them laughing and pondering for many an hour. However, as it stands you will, if for some reason you have decided to read my blog, have to accept what I can remember from yesterday.
As I began writing in my head…I think it was the fourth blog post that was beginning to form…I realized that I should really engage my brain a little more with the trip and a little less with writing, concentrating on the road and the sign posts along the way. I did not want to miss this turn as it would be a bigger detour to get back on track than this morning’s trip if I did.
I saw the turn, you will be relieved to know, and remained on the highway I needed to travel. We passed through town #2 and I thought we were going to be able to by-pass #3 as well, stopping for supper at #4, but Emily had to make a pit stop at town #3. And of course, when we stopped I sent another text to my husband to let us know where we were. I estimated our arrival time, forgetting to calculate supper into it, but I figured afterwards that he is savvy enough to do the math himself.
Back on the road I asked Emily if she was hungry. It was 4:30. We would be in the next town before 5:30, but we could be home by 7 if we didn’t stop and could eat then. Assuring her that we would eat in a restaurant regardless of what town we were in, I asked if she wanted to stop at the next town or go on to our home town. No, she was insistent that she was hungry and we needed to stop. I think it was simply more exciting for her to eat in a different town than that she was actually hungry.
Nevertheless, we stopped at the next town just before 5:30 and ate at the only restaurant we found which happened to be an A&W. I tried not to rush her as we ate, watching the seagulls through the window, but I was anxious to get home. On any trip once we’re almost home I am loathe to stop anywhere, and my husband is generally the same. We tend to push forward and get home, then relax and eat if it’s meal time. However, my youngest is the only child at home for a couple of days, so part of the return trip was to spend time with her. So we stopped, ate, watched seagulls, and were back on the road in a little more than half an hour.
Again I sent a text to my husband to tell him we’d eaten and would be home by seven thirty. You’d think I’d be getting the hang of this text thing by then, but I was not.
Back on the road I knew we would soon need to make a left turn to, again, stay on the highway we were on. A left turn passed us with no sign of the highway number. Was that the turn? I wasn’t sure. Not wanting the detour this mistake could force upon me, I pulled over and looked at the map. It’s not a terribly new map and the road I needed was unclear. I was pretty sure that it was still ahead, but I didn’t think it was as far as it seemed to be, so I decided to double back and make sure that I wasn’t supposed to take that turn I had passed.
I did, and I wasn’t, so another U turn and I was back on my way on the final leg of the journey. Emily saw the signs that we were “home” quite a ways out in the country, and at 7:15 we rolled into our driveway. It was a long day. Don’t I always say, “Enjoy the journey”? Indeed, I do, but I am almost always referring to a journey through history, not a quick trip across the province! But the day was warm and the girls were good company in the car. I had a lovely visit with my sister, and Emily and I sang much of the way home. So in spite of a few minor inconveniences, some caused by nothing but my own cerebral distraction, it was a good day. But I’m glad to be home. And in one week and 2 days, all my kiddlies will be back in my nest where they belong! Then I’ll let my teenager do the texting.
