My Amazing new Christmas Gift to Myself – The Kindle Fire

I got my Christmas present to myself early this year. I didn’t want to wait for the craziness of Black Friday when I could have gotten the All-New Fire HD 8” Tablet with Alexa for $25 cheaper. I was afraid they’d get back ordered and it took me FOREVER to decide what I wanted. I debated about getting an Apple iPad for hundreds more than the Fire but I already have a desktop that I dearly love and a laptop that I fiercely hate plus a Kindle 3^rd generation that still works fine, a smart phone, an iPod and a four-cup coffee pot. In other words, the essentials of life in the modern age. Well, that last one should be a Keurig to qualify for a ‘modern life’ but that was my Christmas present to myself a few years ago and I finally got so frustrated with it getting clogged up and having to fix it with a paper clip when I needed my morning coffee the most that I sent that Keurig off to the Salvation Army last summer and I never looked back.

I love Alexa. I wish I could change the voice to a male but the best I can do is change her to a British accent. That was cool when I played 'Simon says' with her and asked her to repeat "bloody hell." She bleeps out other swear words to keep it family friendly, I presume. Oh, yes, I’ve been having fun with my new playmate. Already I’m in love with her spelling skills. Just writing this, so far she’s spelled ‘fiercely’ for me and she beat my beloved Franklin Language Master 3000 that has been my constant writing companion since the ‘80s. But her pronunciation skills needs work. I asked her how do you pronounce c.a.t. and she replied, "C" and when I asked her how to pronounce m.u.c.i.l.a.g.i.n.o.u.s. she apologized for not knowing the word. She sings a mean rendition of Happy Birthday though.

I spent Thanksgiving with my youngest niece and her 2 ½ year old grandson walked up to her Amazon Echo and said, “Alexa play…” and he named a child’s song I didn’t know and can’t remember and his mother said he’s getting so good at giving Alexa commands at her house that’s she’s going to change its name to something he can’t say. On the way home I got to thinking about that. We’ve got a whole generation coming up who will be so used to asking Seri and Alexa for stuff they’ll be clueless if they see something like a radio from my youth. They won’t understand what knobs and dials are for---and forget record players. "You have to do to play music?!" What will be the point of kids ever having homework in the future when they can get Alexa or Siri to do it for them? But for disabled people who are confined to beds and wheelchairs what a godsend these voice activated devices are.

Guess what, I’m not finished writing about my new toy. I went off to Amazon to find some cheap books and I’ve finished reading one and have started another. The first was The Dog who knew too Much by Spencer Quinn. Apparently he has a whole series of mystery/detective books written in a dog’s voice and I’m a sucker for canine points of views. I even gave that style of writing a whirl in a blog I kept for my dog before my husband died. Sadly, I abandoned it to switch to writing this widow’s blog. Quinn's dog is a bit of an airhead at times which adds a sense of humor to the book. It was popcorn for the mind kind of reading. Now I’m reading Neanderthal Seeks Human by Penny Reid, another 'popcorn' book. I hadn't read a romance in a long time and I was curious if the formula had changed. 31,673 people reviewed it with an average of 3.93 overall, so it’s safe to say more people liked the nerdy, socially awkward heroine in the romance than didn’t. To me it was another gorgeous, brooding wealthy-man-falls-for-a-woman-who-doesn't-know-she's-beautiful plot. But since I identify with heroines who talk in their heads the book sucked me in early on:

My heart skipped two beats. I turned around.

Oh my God, it’s you.

“Oh my God, it’s you.” I realized too late that I said and thought the same thing in unison.

I never warmed up to on reading with my old Kindle because I like real books that I can underline passages in and write in the margins. If I buy a book, I don’t mind making it mine in this way. I never could figure out how to do those things on the Kindle. This time around I’m going to try learning to use all the features in the reader app. Already I’m a pro at using the Fire's Silk browser, e-mail, maps, weather and OneNote apps and playing music. And I was about to learn manage grocery lists using Alexa but my niece told me if I do, don’t be surprised if she places an order at Amazon for what I want and it’s delivered to my doorstep in two days. Oops. ©

Wife and Caregiver to Widowhood Transformation

Back in 2008 one of my attempts at article writing got published in a website’s humor section. They’ve since been bought out by Yahoo Contributors and somewhere along the line my article got moved to the beauty section. I can't imagine what people think when they start reading it, believing what I wrote was meant to be serious make-up advice for older women. Beauty treatments that involve cloths pins? No Way!

Little did I know back then that I’d be in hot pursuit of real beauty advice now that I’m no longer a caregiver and have the time to treat my face, nails, hair and wardrobe like the serious fixer-uppers that they are. But aren’t I worth it now that I have the time I used to spend helping my disabled husband, filling pills bottles and being a taxi service to an endless list of specialists? “Hell, yes!” the left side of my brain says while the other side laughs and claims it’s a lost cause.

My second venture into the world of spoiling myself consisted of an express pedicure and manicure. (The first was a deluxe pedicure and foot spa treatment.) The manicure didn’t even make it home before it was a mess and I had to remove all the polish. I won’t be doing that again, but I did manage to give myself a French manicure for the first time since the 1960s and I got two complements on my nails from complete strangers. So I’m thinking this old lady did good on nail pampering but, darn it all, the stupid things grew out. Who knew you’d have to get manicures all over again?

My third venture into the realm of self improvement involved getting low lights put in my hair. My hair stylist---I guess they don’t like the label ‘beauticians’ anymore---has repeated the low lights a few times, now, and I’m still not sure if I like them. No one has mentioned the new look so I’m thinking the color is either too fake to bring it up or it’s so completely natural looking that no one can tell I did anything. Either way, I keep scaring myself when I walk past mirrors. Who is that person?

“Who is that person?” Exterior changes not withstanding, I suppose that’s the question all widows are trying to sort through. Who are we without our other half? The titles of wife, caregiver and best friend (to Don) no longer apply. What is my title now? Don’t we all need titles to define how we spend our time and energy? Widow? Elderly Woman? Noted and discarded. Those are states of being, not of doing. Seeker of Truth and Beauty---that has a nice ring but how would that look on my calling card? Pompous, that’s how. That’s something that belongs on the Dali Lama XIV’s business card. He has the credentials to back up a byline like that, not me. But he probably has something selfless like: “God loves Tibet” or something low key like: “Bringing balance into a hectic world.”

I wish I could find the balance in my world. Instead, I have a kind of restless anticipation not unlike getting ready for a blind date set up by someone you don’t entirely trust. I am falling into a routine, though, but that’s not balance. Not the kind of balance that leaves you falling into bed each night as happy as a cat in an Amish milking barn. If a social opportunity comes along, I go whether I really want to or not. I talk to the dog every day and I welcome Robocalls just so I can hear a human voice. I feed my woodpeckers and finches and try to discourage the chipmunks from sitting two feet from the window where the dog takes up sentry duty. And I’ve taken up knitting again. I am progressing well compared to other widows I see at the widow’s support website. Still, I want more out of life than routine and busy work. The real me that got lost in my caregiver years, is she still out there waiting for me to find her? The Dala Lama once said: “When we meet real tragedy in life, we can react in two ways--either by losing hope and falling into self-destructive habits, or by using the challenge to find our inner strength.” I’m challenged and I am working on that inner strength…and on finding the right coffee blend in k-cups for my Keurig.  Did I mention that widowhood makes you buy new things? ©

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