Wednesday, April 21, 2021

Siri was pissing me off so I downloaded Alexa to my phone. Now, neither one will talk to me.

I just got a new phone and the iOS that goes with it which, apparently, also updated Siri. I guess the idea was to make him seem more conversational. (My Siri identifies with he/him/his.) Problem is, he’s a little too relaxed. I think he might be high, in fact.

When I say, “Hey, Siri” a full second or two will pass before he says, “Yeah.”


Yeah? Is that a proper way to respond? To anyone? I might start a request and then I’m interrupted with, “Yeah.” I’m not even sure it’s a question. It’s more like a “Yo” than a “How can I help you?”


But, then Alexa arrived in my life. While Siri lives on my phone, Alexa lives on my kitchen counter. Whenever I was cooking and noticed I was running low on something, I would go back to my office and ask Siri to add the item to my grocery list, whenever he deigned to answer me at all. It quickly became obvious that it would be easier to just tell Alexa to add the item to the list. And, since Siri was being rather aloof, it made sense to put Alexa on my phone as well.


Except she doesn’t like my phone and Siri doesn’t like Alexa and now nobody will talk to me. Except Samuel L. Jackson which is pretty fun. 


I’m just saying, nobody’s expendable. Got that, kids?


Thursday, April 15, 2021

Friday, April 9, 2021

Just like that, the beautiful mess was gone. The dynamic changes again.

On day three, the dynamic changed when the oldest decided he didn’t want to participate in the herd anymore. He’s practically a teen, you see. The herd dynamic changed and new alliances formed and feelings got hurt when one was left out. They were tired and worn out from hours in the hot sun, turning pink, their feet bleeding from rough surfaces, soldiering on so the fun wouldn’t end.

Day four, the oldest opted out again but the herd adjusted. He was missed but no longer crucial to the functioning of the herd.

And then it was over. Half of the herd left and the dynamic is fated to change again. Seven became four. The teenager wants nothing to do with his sister. The adults are busy with work. Order is restored and fun is left to each own’s devices (generally, electronic these days). Boredom and frustration set in. Adults check their watches frequently, wondering when they get their lives back. Tick, tock - don’t tease your sister!

We’ll probably go to the pool again, risking skin cancer and permanent damage to the soles of their feet in the hope there will be other kids there who can join our herd. Until 27 days from now, the youngest of our herd predicted, when they will flock back. For a week, he says.

Sounds good to me.



(How about Labor Day weekend?)