Try Again in 60 Minutes

Try Again in 60 Minutes

Try Again in 60 Minutes

Try Again in 60 Minutes

Try Again in 60 Minutes

Try Again in 60 Minutes

Oh my gosh.  Do you ever have those weeks where you wish you could just start over? Saturday night, I lost my iPhone.  I know where I lost it, in a Lyft ride.  I sat my phone down next to me while I was filling out a card in the darkness of the ride to the party (Way to go Joy, you’re procrastination is brilliant. Well, at least I brought a card. Gimme a break. Plus the card was pretty rad.  The best- “I Love the Shit Out of You” card I’ve ever seen.  I love cards that are perfect for the person you’re giving them to.  She’s got an amazing sense of humor and fearlessness about her.  I do love you, Katie.  I do, and I can’t believe you’re grown up and off to AMDA. **Teary**) Oh yeah, so, I left my phone on the seat of the car that day and didn’t realize it until the next morning.  The sad part is, I thought it was just buried somewhere in my gigantic purse.  You know your purse is too big when…you’ve got a fan, foldable scissors, essential oils, calcium and Flintstone vitamins for everyday of the week, ear buds, stevia, lipsticks, hand cream, reusable grocery bags (2, because 1 isn’t enough), cough drops, feminine emergency kit, and of course all the loot in my wallet.  (I know you’ve always wanted to know the contents of my purse.  So there ya go.  I’m always prepared, like a Girl Scout.  Ladies, you don’t need to bring any of these items when you hang with me, I’ve got your back.)  So THAT’S why I just assumed it was buried in the abyss of my purse. Sunday morning came.  After a panicky search and texts to my dear friend at the party the night before, the phone wasn’t located and then I realized, I’d left it in the Lyft ride.  Ugh. Oh no. Customer service back and forth emails for the next 3 days resulted in confirmation that my phone would not be returned.

The crazy part is, a friend actually gave me another phone the day before I lost my phone.  Weird right?  She gave it to me because my screen was cracked on the phone I had on Friday night.  She said, “I’m not using this phone if you want it.”  So I had a replacement. Unbeknownst to me, I’d lose my phone the next day.

And then I tried to set up the new phone.

I was able to get to the AT&T store on Tuesday, to move the phone from Verizon.  Awesome.

And then there was an Activation Lock.

Oh my. So many hoops.  Do you ever feel like you’re in a perpetual loop?  You keep trying the same thing over and over again, hoping something different will happen.  I do this constantly when I enter passwords.  (Inner dialogue: Oh, that one didn’t work.  Well maybe I skipped a letter.  Oh, that didn’t work.  Dammit. Ok, let’s see, maybe I forgot to capitalize the first letter.  Oh, that didn’t work.  Deep breath.  Hmmm.  Maybe, I should add a number at the end of the sequence.)  I’ve since learned that I can’t possibly remember all my passwords, so I use Last Pass on my computer to manage all my passwords, but my phone is a different story, and this new phone was complicated, finicky, like a cat that doesn’t want dry food, it wants Fancy Feast.  So, after 19 attempts of trying to enter the same 2 sets of  4 digit numbers, I think the phone MEANT what it said the other 19 times, “Try Again in 60 Minutes.”  Actually, if it was a really smart phone it would say, <<insert Bill and Ted voice here>>”You’ve tried those numbers 19 times dumbass, it’s not going to work!”   (Yes, my smart ass phone talks to me like Bill and Ted, you know, from Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. Doesn’t everyone give their phone an accent?  Party on, dude!)

I’m in Trouble.

Have a listen:

I’ve been in this troubled loop for days.  I will stop now. Just thought I’d share.

Try Again in 60 Minutes is an analogy for my life right now.  I’ve been trying some of the same things over and over again and I’m still getting the same repetitive message.

The message is, you’re burning the candle at both ends.  Stop it.  You know what happens when the candle burns and the wicks meet. There is no candle left.  I am the candle.

Many of my memories are full of impressions. There was a Christmas when I lived on Barbara street in Tyler, Texas.  This was a lovely home we rented in a nicer neighborhood than some we’d lived in pre and post-Barbara street.  There was a succulent pear tree in the backyard and this was where we brought home my cocker spaniel, Lady, that I learned to love with all my heart.  She was with me throughout several moves to new houses and states. The smell of gardenias at that house was enchanting. Every time I smell one, I think back to living in that house in Texas. That Christmas was a challenging one financially and my parents were struggling to make Christmas the best they could for their 3 kids, at the time.  This was probably a direct result of paying rent in a middle class hood.  I remember my dad being very discouraged that Christmas.  I tried to cheer him up, in the best way a 10-year-old can.  I gave him a chocolate bar and a sign that I had found somewhere that said:  You never fail, until you fail to try.

I keep that phrase close on weeks like this.  There have been several circumstances and interactions with people that have made me want to just, literally, call it a day, and go back to bed.  But, then,

You never fail, until you fail to try.*

Up next: I love the Strumbellas’ perfect rock geekiness.  Listen: their song starts at 15 seconds in.  This song spoke to me this week.  We often don’t know.  We just don’t. But, “we all know there’s hope and we’ll be okay.” Encouraging words.  Thanks Strumbellas.  Oh, and that Jam Van is full of sweet Austin-awesomeness.

This band takes me back to my college years when EEG performed with Mama (me) and we called ourselves The Mamas and the Mamas because all the guys in the band dressed in drag.  Good times. I wish I had pictures of that performance.  I performed Respect by Aretha (daring or stupid to sing a cover of the goddess of soul) and a song by the Bangles (I think).  (Steve, it’s time… we need to start a band. Oh, wait, we’ve already done that.  But it might be time to rock again.  I need another outlet. If anyone wants to join a geeky middle-aged rock band with male-female vocalists, we could have concerts in the backyard pop up trailer. Takers?  A backyard concert in San Dimas, sounds pretty amazin’ to me and it’s a lot closer than Austin.)