The Proverbial Paper Bag

I am directionally challenged. Just recently a very reliable source whose name I’ve forgotten, told me that her sister read somewhere that a condition such as mine is caused by the way my brain is wired. Normally I wouldn't be happy to hear news like this. But I'm delighted to know it’s not my fault! I’m thinking of starting a support group, but I doubt anyone could find it, so maybe it’s not such a great idea.

For those of you who suspect you might share my disorder, I’ve devised the following diagnostic test: Answers are limited to Yes and No

1. You become dizzy and break out in sweat when you hear words such as It’s easy to find. Just take I702 to Rt. 87 and that becomes Hamilton Avenue.

2. You assume every route in this part of the country becomes Hamilton Avenue at some point.

3. As you plan your vacation trip, your husband reviews the map with your ten-year-old son suggesting you sit in the back and entertain the other children.

4. You live in Fairfield and are meeting some friends at Tri-County. The friend living in Kenwood offers to pick you up saying it’s not out of her way. Bonus point if you believe her.

5. You drive to Cincinnati for a meeting. You use the directions your husband wrote—directions that include exits to I211 and Rt. 62 which then turns into Hamilton Avenue. You make it there in under an hour. After the conference you realize said husband has not reversed the directions to get you home. You turn the Cincinnati notes upside down, drive with your head at a neck breaking angle. You arrive three stress filled hours and two fill-ups later with grease spots on your windows from station attendant who told you to try Hamilton Avenue. Said husband is waiting for dinner.

6. You write Alex Trebek demanding they eliminate Jeopardy’s Geography category.

7. You buckle your 5 year-old grandson into his seat and he asks if you’re going to get lost again today.

Tally your score. 1 Point for Yes. 0 Points for No. Remember #3 bonus point.

0 - Get a job with Mc-Nally Rand or Rand-McNally, whoever those guys are.
1 - Wander at will.
2 - Find a good map of Hamilton Avenue.
3 - Make right turns only. Find your way back making left turns.
4 - Travel with a friend.
5 - Add a GPS to your Christmas list. Embrace technology!
6 - Allow your license lapse.
7 - Join my support group. I live just off Hamilton Avenue.
8 - Become a cloistered nun/monk.

Disclaimer: These are all hypothetical situations used for diagnostic purposes only. I am in no way suggesting or admitting that these things have happened to me.

Blog Land - Here I Come!

In the days of saddle shoes and sock hops, I made a promise to myself. I vowed I’d never ever become one of those old fogies who is so far behind the times that to them history reads like a diary.
Assuming the Beatles would live forever, I saw myself aging gracefully with the titles of the top 40 hits on the tip of my tongue. Off the record, don’t you just hate that racket that shakes your car and puts a buzz in your hubby’s hearing aid when you hit a red light on the way to Bob Evans? Okay, I’ve got a way to go with the music thing.
In my world, the Oscar for best picture went to The Sound of Music. I saw the world of cinema as family friendly and viewed in a theater and had no doubt it would always be that way. I would never have imagined watching films in the privacy of my own home. Where, I must say, a fair number of the current day ones should be viewed. Without your children I might add. I have adjusted to having a VCR and am proud to admit that unlike a number of my friends, I know how to program it. My next conquest will be the DRQXR or whatever it’s called. Anything that goes by initials puts me off. I’m still adjusting to viewing a TV hanging on the wall. Time was, that was reserved for hospitals.
In my youth, I watched my parents’ generation mutter about the numerous colors of the new fangled touch-tone phones, arguing that the old black rotaries were good enough. They struggled to remember 7 digit phone numbers instead of the 5 digit ones they had memorized. This, I swore, would never happen to me. But, alas, it has. I’ve renewed my oath to keep up with technology.
Many moons ago, I tossed my carbon paper and I now have two (count them, two) computers. One is a laptop and one is not. The exact term escapes me now. I email. I google. I have a facebook page. I also have friends. Some of whom I even know.
The land of blog remains foreign to me, but I’m determined to overcome my fear of words that aren’t listed in my copy of the dictionary and that provoke my computer to underline them in red. Thus, this blog. There’s that annoying red line again. I thought about a number of names and finally decided on Janie Jabbers—the name of the column I wrote for my high school paper when I thought I knew it all.