Take Me To Church, Lady

If you have never read a post by this blog you have been doing yourself a disservice. Please put down any beverages you may be holding and prepare to laugh.

mydangblog

I’m getting frustrated with my car phone lady. The voice recognition system has no trouble with very complex names like Donna-Louise Martin, Suzanne Work, or Jeff Goldblum (yes, sometimes he texts me, and it’s really him, it really is), but when I say ‘Ken’, this inevitably happens:

Car Phone Lady: Ready.
Me: Call.
Car Phone Lady: Please say the name or number to call.
Me: Ken.
Car Phone Lady: Did you say ‘Karen’?
Me: No.
Car Phone Lady: Did you say ‘Joe’?
Me: NO! Ken. Call Ken!
Car Phone Lady: OK. Calling ‘Maria’.

So I edited my contact so that Ken’s name shows up as ‘Kenneth’, thinking that it was the one-syllable thing that was confounding her, but it made no difference. Every single goddamn time, it’s “Did you say ‘Kenneth’?” until I’m yelling “OBVIOUSLY, YOU ROBOTIC WENCH! IT’S ALWAYS KENNETH!!”

Aside from that, the only thing that happened last…

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Hell Ain’t Hotter

This is my post on Navigating the Change. The blog is written by women about menopause/perimenopause etc. Please check the blog out as well.

Navigating the Change

When I was forty-one, my brother, mom, and I went on a birthday road trip.

Our birthdays fall within two weeks of one another.

We had gotten onto the highway: mom driving, the brother sprawled out in the back seat (as he does not drive), and I in the passenger seat.

As always, we were yammering away, laughing and talking about road trips taken when we were kids when I began to realize I was getting warmer.

It began slowly: anoticeable increase in my temperature and I was shifting around in my seat when mom noticed.

She asked me what was wrong and I told her I was on fire.

Mom laughed and teased me that I was having a hot flash.

I was shifting forward on the seat. My butt was getting hotter and hotter, and I was desperate to figure out the air conditioner when my eyes alit…

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