Will You Be Mine?

Today is Valentine's day.

A day of flowers, chocolate, massacres and the crushed hopes of a million Charlie Browns aching for the affections of the little Red-Haired Girl. Hooray!

I know it's Valentine's day the same way that I know it's any other day: I asked my phone.

Given the time it's been Since I've updated my blog, I should perhaps let you in on a couple of key aspects of my life. I'm still living in Calgary, and my car has become my primary form of transport, which means I'm spending a lot less time than I used to going through security waiting to board and a lot more wondering why the people in front of me consistently insist on driving so slowly (best current charitable guess is that size increases in cup holders have now outpaced the cups themselves, meaning any significant acceleration will result in a mass coffee-sloshing epidemic). Oh, and I'm married to Tamara (I didn't have the chance to introduce her before, but you'd like her).

Some things are the same: a perpetual longing for hamburgers of one type or another, seeing the world mostly through my Nikon and hearing it with barely imaginary drum accomponiment, and melting whenever the little chick breaks into song.

There is an even bigger change, though, and one I certainly didn't see coming. I chose an iPhone. On purpose.

Yes, creative types - you can do the whole "I told you so" thing now.

Still no Mac (and I don't anticipate that changing), but now I'm one of those people who doesn't think it odd to just randomly drop an "i" in front of most things I use or buy ("Honey, I'm going to the iStore to get some iMilk. Do we iNeed anything else?"). Combine that with the fact that we have a little dog, and I have clearly become what I had, for so long, ridiculed. I have not stooped to the point of having the dog's picture emblazoned on my iPhone case, but I suspect that that's mostly because until just now when I wrote that, I didn't really consider it as a possibility.

So I might be a little pathetic.

In any case, the point of all this is to say that phones (and perhaps the iPhone in particular) have reduced us (and by this I mostly mean "me") to a state of perpetual childhood. Think about it: when you were a kid, did you worry about waking yourself up? No, you knew that eventually your parents would get you out of bed in time to get ready for school. Did you keep track of your appointments? No... but your parents did. What about taking accurate messages when someone called, or remembering where the car was parked, or what you needed to get from the gorcery store? There was always a grown-up who could manage these things so we didn't have to.

We still don't.

Instead of a grown-up, though, my phone does all of that. If I ever dropped it into the Pacific, I would be late, confused, and lost. Maybe more accurate to say "more lost" (but only until "loster" is finally recognized as a good word) and "more confused", but you get the picture. I'm generally
on time.

It really hit home when I was walking the little dog, bored. As any child would do, I said "Mom, I'm bored - what can I do?". Actually, I didn't say that, because, even in my current state, I did realize that my mom was not there. What I did say was, "Siri, tell me a story". And she did. It wasn't the best story, and I didn't get to suggest any names for any of the characters and she didn't act out the voices, but still - it killed some time on my walk and happened on demand. And I only had to ask once.

The cycle is complete.

I know I said that's the point of this post, but it's not, actually.

The real point is that Tamara has been, uh... "encouraging" me to blog again. And last year I made a really creative card for her for Valentine's day, with absolutely no foresight into the fact that that was unlikely to be the last Valentine's day that we celebrated by exchanging cards or what it may take to top it with something unexpected - the gold standard, in her books - in subsequent years.

Stupid boy.

So this is your card, my Tamara. Happy Valentine's day - I love you, forever and always.

And for everyone else... I realize that that the show has long been over and anyone still left in the theatre is probably shuffling around, looking for leftover popcorn, and maybe just hoping to hit on the usher who has yet to sweep up (I have nothing to say about that). I'm not saying "creepy", but if you're reading this, you have shown a remarkable amount of patience.

In any case, I'm back, at least for a while. Let's take it one step at a time, shall we?