Is This You? My Fluid Life

Not long ago, I was told I was apparently not very fluid. This had nothing to do with the intake and outgo of any fluid put into my pie hole. No, it was more that it appeared time, meetings, changes, and the like are not met by me with ease of rescheduling. That part is true for me. If something on my plate is scheduled for a time and place, I’m all in. If it needs to be changed, I’m okay with that too. But! Yes, an ever shifting “but.” Changes and rescheduling have as many facets to them as the prettiest diamond that lights up a girl’s eyes. Sigh.

That brings me to my calendar. My paper, a hold in your hand calendar, and it looks like I am about four years old and someone gave me a red pen, a blue pen, and a pencil all tied together. It is an actual calendar from a utility company here. It is smaller than a regular one and has a spiral top that I can flip the pages back and forth. Which I do. A lot.

 I am in awe of so many people around me that have electronic calendars. Ones that they actually use and are up to date with. Ones that they can call up in less time than it takes me to sneeze. Oh, I have tried an electronic calendar. It was very sad. Very sad indeed. Here’s the sordid story.

Like you I have a phone with more doohickeys than you can shake a stick at. Actually, a stick would be so much easier to maneuver. And when you throw a stick out of frustration, it doesn’t cost you dearly.

And I have a laptop. I actually have two, one for my newspaper stuff to keep all aligned and one for my first love, my baby, “Is This You?” Again, both with goodies galore. With both, there are emails and Facebook and Instagram, but that’s where I draw the line. I have to limit my electronic footprint, or I would surely become lost in a maze of “now where did I see or put or post that…” aarrgghh!

But the calendar. Now, here’s the rub. Just which calendar am I suppose to go to when someone says, “Hey, you want to go to the garlic festival in Gilroy, California, this summer?”  Heck, yes, I want to go. But. Yes, again an ever shifting, but. Do I use the calendar in my phone? In one of my emails? The one so happily supplied by the electronic eyes that are always watching? Or do I jot a note on a scrap of paper? Stuff it in my pocket until I get home and put it on my heavily but so colorfully marked ¾ quarter-sized calendar on my kitchen table? I, crazy as it appears to sound, do the latter. When I get home, there are little scribbled notes that I go through about every three days. Enough little pieces of paper to heat a small yurt in Mongolia, I would think.

That’s what works for me. And here’s how I got to this place.

I thought I would give the ole college try to keeping a calendar. Like a teenager always tells a parent, “Everyone else is doing it!” I’ve been told even a pet monkey can be taught stuff. Well, not to be outdone by some little chimp, I fell into step with my electronic secretary…

The one in my phone. Not the one in my phone in my e-mail. Just the one that says calendar in the “all other apps” place. I have to open that window, then choose calendar, then choose date, then choose add, then choose edit because I screwed up my entry by putting it in the wrong month. Then, it shows up in two places. Then I get to a screen where I learn all about the meaning of some holiday that I’ve never heard of before. Now. Now can you see why my paper calendar is so lovingly colored and erased and scribbled on?

Oh, I didn’t try the electronic calendar just that once. Oh noooo. Once was not enough for me. I thought, well, maybe I might get along better with the calendar set up in one of my email accounts. Monkey see, monkey do, don’t you know? Uh, no, monkey might have seen, but monkey absolutely did not know!

So, am I fluid enough to change plans at a moment’s notice? Nope. I am not. I would hasten to guess that if someone wants to change my horse in the middle of the stream, they best have a waterproof pack and lots of different colored markers on hand to keep my sorry rear end up to date.

Trina lives in Diamond Valley, north of Eureka, Nevada. She loves to hear from readers. Email her at [email protected].

Really!