Not afraid of social media either

After setting up this blog, I gave some thought to how (or even if) I might promote it. I shared the address with my former colleagues, and some of them were even kind enough to say nice things about it. I sent the link to several friends and relatives, who did likewise. The Fluffster offspring was the only one to proffer anything remotely approaching negative, but even his three comments were grammatical in nature (and since I didn’t agree, they don’t count). Then I ran out of ideas, so got sidetracked looking into Google Analytics and how to add abutton instead. (The latter of which has misbehaved, so if you clicked it before yesterday, it may have disappeared, and I’d have no objections to you doing it again…)

Why bother with self-promotion when I’ve clearly stated on my About me page that I’m “not looking for fame”? Well, curiosity mostly. I know I won’t go viral, but I’m intrigued by what might happen if someone unconstrained by familial, friendship-conserving, or collegial obligations to be nice actually read any of this. Oh, and then responded. Google Analytics and Blogger Stats results aren’t all that satisfying after that first thrill of discovering that folks in several European countries (not including the Netherlands; that’s family) have somehow stumbled onto my blog (see Blogger stats, above right). Also, there are 23 views from Other, a place I've never heard of.

Ms. Fluffster’s real self has Twitter and Facebook accounts, but those are tightly locked down and off limits to anyone not personally admitted to the inner sanctum. She no longer has a LinkedIn account because she never liked how it worked in the first place, and now that she’s retired, no longer needs that useless thing. (That should have been on my initial to-do list so I could have the satisfaction of marking it done. Consider it a late addendum.)

Ms. Fluffster’s new Twitter account (above left: @MsFluffster) is open to Everyone. She has two followers (but only one of them counts, because the other is someone she knows). She’s following seven carefully selected accounts… so far. Suggestions for more welcome, especially by women. Only one requirement: they must amuse without being offensive (well, maybe just a little bit; being completely inoffensive gets boring). Whether or not they’ll drive any traffic her way is still an open question. Ms. Fluffster and I look forward to hearing from you.

I’m not a technophobe. Really.

Major confession time. I don’t have a smartphone. Not even an outdated Android or Apple model that I limp along with to keep up with the rest of the world. That’s not to say I’ll never get one, just that it hasn’t proved essential yet. Whenever I feel inclined to consider it, I measure the pros and cons, talk to Mr. Fluffster, and come to my senses. Or maybe I just get distracted by something shiny.

The photo above shows what I do have. A basic flip phone (inherited from the Fluffster offspring when he was forced to get a smartphone for work*) and a two-year-old iPad Mini. Pay-as-you-go and Wi-Fi, respectively.

The iPad is my second one, and I use it All The Time. I’m attached to that device in much the same way most of you are glued to your smartphones. Email, photographs, entertainment, wayfinding, videocalls, texting, phone calls, shopping, etc. Within range of Wi-Fi, that is.

My hesitation isn’t for financial reasons, but rather a matter of, gee, I don’t know, pig-headedness? Refusal to conform? Desire to be different? I’m sure I could adapt to using one; I managed to keep up with all the new tech flying past when I was still working (a never-ending stream of it). I took pride in adapting quickly to new digital programs/tools and helping colleagues adjust to them. Put one of these thingamajigs in front of me and tell me I’ll find it hard to use, and I’ll go out of my way to prove you wrong!

I’m rapidly getting used to my new MacBook, which requires breaking the PC habits of 30 years or more (as, right on cue for the umpteenth time, I accidentally hit the key that locks it and have to log in again; thank heavens for Touch ID). Sure, some things take a little longer than others to become second nature, but they won’t defeat me!

One key factor is that I grew up with telephones that stayed home when I went out. If anyone wanted to talk to me, they had to either call when I was home, or leave a message and wait for my return. And I’ve always been fine with that. I go out to avoid calls, not to have folks follow me everywhere (especially those who just want my money or vote).

Lately, since very few real people call us anymore, we’ve taken to just not answering the phone even when we’re home, as most calls are just robocalls, telemarketers, or charities wanting donations. (If you want to old-school talk to us, leave a message.) I’m not opposed to charitable donations, by the way; I just prefer to choose my own time and place to make them (generally online and close to tax time).

Rant over. My latest iPad is cellular enabled, so I likely will get a SIM card one of these days and put a pay-as-you-go plan on it. With that, I’ll be as connected as any of you, so why get another device to clutter up my purse/backpack/pocket/table? I really don’t need yet another power cord in the drawer to scratch my head over.

* Yes, the Fluffster offspring is a chip off the old block.

It’s never too late to recover

Remember that heat dome over the West Coast last June? The one that led to Lytton being burned to the ground and hundreds of people dying? Yeah, that one. Well, I have a personal story about its after-effects in our home. And no, it’s nowhere near as significant or serious as the above-listed tragedies. It’s more positive.

Every year, Mr. Fluffster tends at least one cherry tomato plant on our balcony. Most years, these yield up to 40 to 50 cherry tomatoes. He tries a different variety each year. Some years are more successful than others.

This year’s crop got off to a good start. Lots of blooms started, so we were anticipating lots of tasty snacks. However, when that heat dome struck, the leaves browned and shrivelled, and most of the blooms withered and dropped off. We ended up with 10, maybe 12, tomatoes by mid-August. They were tasty, but there were so few of them, and it was most disappointing (especially alongside my wannabe carrots and pathetic, less-than-flourishing basil). But hey, we got over it, got store-bought instead, and started looking forward to next year’s crop.

Well, in mid-September, much to our surprise, the plant suddenly started perking up. The leaves got green and healthy looking again, and it started to bloom profusely. We told it “You’re a little too late, buster!” But it didn’t listen to us, and continued to sprout blooms. “You’re very pretty,” we thought, “but you’re still too late. Just wait until the weather turns chilly! And there’s no way you’re going to generate proper tomatoes at this time of year.”

Then small tomatoes started to form! We weren’t optimistic that they’d amount to anything before driving rains, wind, and low temperatures set in, but we let them be.

Well, they showed us! Today, I picked the crop pictured above left. There’s now 12 of them ripening on a shelf in the kitchen. It’ll take a few weeks, but all is not lost. And there’s a dozen more still on the vine that are too small to pick just yet (above right — squint and you might see them), but with a few more days of sunshine, they might just make it across the finish line to a suitable size for indoor ripening.

The moral of this story? Don’t give up on your late blooming tomatoes — or our planet — yet. Nature is more resilient than many give it credit for. And it’s worth fighting for.

tomato by Icongeek26 from the Noun Project

How I spend my waking hours

I’m more of a night owl (or maybe an afternoon hummingbird?) than the proverbial early morning robin in search of the worm. My best inspirations seem to strike somewhere between 4 and 6 pm, after I’ve dithered away the morning (which generally doesn’t start before 9 am or later), had a leisurely lunch, and then been distracted by a book, some dishes that need washing now, a walk or a bike ride when the sun is shining, or other, more pressing, occupations than writing.

Mr. Fluffster (also a writer), on the other hand, is a Morning Person (and, not being a vegetarian, is welcome to those worms). He’s generally put in several productive hours before I even wake up. Of course, he writes about Serious Subjects and gets properly published (see What Are Novels Good For? Pulling the Plug on Dream Interpretation, and The Value of Studying Philosophy). Me, I’m just a dilettante, generating self-published fluff. I’m good with that. We balance each other nicely.

Today, I was delayed getting my day off to a start because there was a very loud Steller’s Jay squawking somewhere very close by. When I went to investigate, I discovered it trapped behind the windscreen on the outside of our balcony (above right). When it saw me, it panicked and re-doubled its efforts to fly through glass (and got louder), so I stood very still, hoping it would calm down and figure it out. It did, eventually, and flew off with one last loud squawk. Then I spent some time regretting that I hadn’t taken a photo of it and took one of just the windscreen instead. Then I got distracted by something else, and it was time for lunch.

Looking back, it’s amazing how quickly the days have passed since retirement. While I admittedly do waste time (gaze out the window, wonder how to rescue birds, watch bad TV, bake failed bread), I still manage to cram lots of productive activities into every day. For example, last week, I finally got those replacement bowls I was after (above left; spent half a day driving across the city to find them!) And the best part is that they were made in the country of my birth (definitely a first; I don’t think I’ve ever seen “Made in Holland” on anything before).

In fact, I’m so busy, I haven’t even tackled half of the tasks on that to-do list I created in mid-August. Just can’t seem to find the time.

What I miss most about work

Now that a month and a half have passed, I’m feeling a bit contemplative, so this is me taking stock of my day-to-day and thinking about what’s changed since I stopped working.

Above left is the at-home “work” station where I laboured every day from March 17, 2020 until retirement day (August 13, 2021). Above right, same station post-retirement, only with rather less (but much newer!) computer equipment and a tablecloth inserted to protect the buffet from the ravages wrought by my rabid mouse.* A much simpler setup — one that doesn’t require the tangle of power cords just out of sight on the left that marred our dining room wall for 17 months. No photo of that, I’m afraid. Didn’t realize one might be needed.

On the other hand (I can’t believe I’m actually saying this), I miss meetings. No, not the trudge-from-your-office-to-another-floor-with-your-laptop-precariously-balanced-with-large-cup-of-coffee variety, but rather those 2020/2021 Zoom and/or Teams video calls that happened multiple times most days. I realize now I haven’t had a single one since my last day of work. Nor any social Zoom calls for that matter, now that we’re kinda, sorta, ok with getting together with others (provided they’re vaccinated, preferably outside, possibly masked, separated by plexiglass, certified safe for close proximity, etc.)

What am I missing? Well, all sorts of fun experiences. Just think; no more:

• cries of “Fred/Jane, you’re on mute!” to the animated face whose lips are moving enthusiastically with nothing emerging
• disembodied voices emerging from black boxes, saying “I don’t know why you can’t see me”
• speculation as to why one or more faces have suddenly and unexpectedly vanished
• subsequent discussions about whether or not to continue in the absence of said faces
• panicked emails from missing participants saying “I’m here, but nobody else is. Am I in the wrong meeting?”
• ditto from the same asking “Can someone please resend the meeting link?”
• speculating as to the origin of strange noises or loud static, and taking turns muting ourselves individually until we figure out whose computer it’s emanating from
• sneak peeks into dining rooms, living rooms, bedrooms, and patios, where random shadowy figures in various states of dress (or undress) pass by, usually oblivious to the fact that they’re on camera
• pets or children doing adorable things for the camera (or refusing to) or sitting on the keyboard generating nonsense chat messages
• relatives telling young offspring, “No, dear, you can’t come back into the family Zoom because you have no clothes on” (yes, this is a personal experience, though one could easily imagine it happening in a work setting too)
• seeing the face(s) of someone — anyone — besides Mr. Fluffster and the Fluffster offspring, without going out (don’t get me wrong, I love them dearly, but I’m accustomed to more variety)

Video meetings can’t replace getting together with people in person, of course, but they were still generally social interactions and (mostly) enjoyable. I’m sure my former fed-up-with-meetings colleagues are thinking enviously of my meeting-free days. Some days I’m right there with them; others, I wish just one more Zoom invite would land in my inbox…

* Laptop stand crafted by Mr. Fluffster.