Why I don't like Facebook

I originally joined Facebook in Carol's name so she could have a way to contact relatives and friends beside email. She tried it and absolutely hated it, so I “deactivated” her account. (There doesn't seem to be any way to completely delete a Facebook account or your personal information.)

Later I decided to try it myself for a month or so to see what it was like. I found some other facebookers that I knew, or that I was related to, and became “friends” with them. It was kind of fun. Then I started receiving news from friends of friends, people who I didn't know and really didn't care to know. I tried adjusting the settings but how do you “de-friend” someone's relatives without feeling guilty about hurting their feelings. Pretty soon my page had so many strangers staring out at me it was like going to someone else's high school reunion.

Then came the proselytizers pushing their religious or political beliefs. If I really wanted to know their opinion, which I don't, I would have asked them. (To be fair though, the same people send the same crap in email.) Then there were “pokes” and “hearts,” on-line games to play and clubs to join.

I tried to join into the spirit of things, but I felt like a parent intruding on a game his teen aged daughter was playing at a pajama party. I did find a fellow Parkinson's Disease sufferer who started a Parkinson's club, and I joined it. All of a sudden I had all of his relatives and friends on my page updating, liking, hearting and poking their friends and relatives.

The people that we really care about have our email address, and I'd much rather get a note from them than get “hearted,” “poked” or “liked”.

I write about the boring stuff in our lives on this blog, mainly for our friends and family and I think there are maybe 3 or 4 people who regularly read it. If I thought that there were hundreds of strangers reading the silly stuff I usually write about, I'd probably quit in embarrassment.

I guess I'm just an old curmudgeon.

Bad Dog!

Yesterday while I was sleepwalking through my usual morning routine of taking the dogs out, making coffee, getting firewood, and starting a fire in the fireplace, I noticed Squeak playing with what I thought was one of her toys. She was tossing it in the air and jumping on it like a cat playing with a catnip mouse. I smiled and thought, Cute puppy!

I got the fire going, poured a cup of coffee and went in the bedroom to make the bed. I could have sworn that I'd put my partial denture on the nightstand beside the bed, and then as realization slowly sunk into my sleepy brain, I hurried back into the living room where the puppy greeted me with a toothy, Cheshire cat grin. She reluctantly surrendered my undamaged denture and after a half-hearted Bad Puppy! I forgave her.

Cowards

The wind really blew last night and I could hear rain beating against the bedroom wall most of the night. The dogs started trying to wake me up around 3:30 am, but I managed to ignore them until 4 when I gave up, got out of my warm bed and got dressed to let them out.

I put on a hoody, strapped my LED headlamp on and trudged through the backdoor to take them out and get some firewood from the woodshed. I looked back and both of the dogs were sitting inside on the enclosed porch, their heads cocked in curiosity, watching me get wet. I got an armload of wood and hurried back inside where the dogs sat, nice and dry, still looking at me like I was an idiot.

I dried myself off, built a fire in the fireplace, put on a pot of coffee and went in the den to turn on the computer, check the latest news and read our email. About a half an hour later I realized that they still hadn't been outside yet, so I decided that maybe a high-school coach pep talk would get them going.

I called them to the door and in an excited voice I told them,”OK, let's go get em now! Go get em! Let's go out there and show that storm who's boss!”

They began to get in the spirit of things; Taz was growling and scratching the floor, and Squeak was jumping up and down and squeaking. I built the excitement some more while I put on my hoody and headlamp, “Are you ready now?” The dogs were at a fever pitch when I opened the door, growling and squeaking like a mini-pack of mini-wolves ready for a kill.

They tore through the door and landed on the patio at full speed ahead. It only took a nanosecond for them to realize that it was still raining and they didn't even slow down as they made a u-turn and almost knocked me down on their way back into the house. I don't think they even got wet.

Finally around 7:30, the rain let up for a few minutes and they followed me out onto the back yard, did their business and came back in for their usual morning bacon-bit treat.