No Right Turn
“Nothing takes longer than getting lost,” said hubby.
Wise words from a Getting Lost Expert. On this, the Fifteenth and Final Day of our eight-country European family roadtrip, we’d moved from profanity to profoundness.
“Tomorrow at this time, it won’t be this time,” I replied.
Taking three teenagers and their tweenaged sister to Europe in 1999 took more planning than a shuttle launch. Eventually, the only minivan available in Europe was ours. Or was it a microvan? After an hour of arranging and rearranging the luggage, we were all finally inside. Now we had to go places.
“Turn here,” I said.
“No, we need to go right,” hubby replied.
“No, left.”
“If you say so.”
Suddenly, we found ourselves circling The Arc D’Triomphe in Paris, on what is known as “the craziest roundabout in Europe.” Twelve lanes of pure hell we’d agreed to avoid. Muttering profanities, hubby eventually guided us to safety in a generally easterly direction out of Paris, until we were . . . lost.
Getting lost wasn’t all bad. We found the lovely town of Reims this way. Hubby delighted the kids when he circled the town’s small roundabout repeatedly while laughing hysterically. I was relieved when I eventually realized he was just doing an impression of Chevy Chase in the European Vacation movie and hadn’t already lost his mind.
Three things occurred daily in this pre-GPS era. Getting lost. Hubby and I “discussing” our lostness. And, inevitably, unnecessary right turns.
“If you’d slow down, I could see where we are,” I’d say.
“If we’d turned right in Paris, we would’ve been fine,” he’d respond.
“That doesn’t mean the answer to every problem is a right turn!”
One time we didn’t know what country we were in. Luxembourg. Another time we didn’t know what day it was. Tuesday. And this was only determined after I translated the sign on the door of the only restaurant we’d seen for miles: Fermé le mardi. Closed on Tuesdays. So why isn’t it open? I thought. Oh, it’s Tuesday. There were times we didn’t know what time it was. Lunchtime. Always lunchtime.
The incessant, ‘Are we there yet?’ to the tune of Oh My Darling Clementine from little sister buckled in next to the luggage wall had become less than amusing by about Day Five. Cargo child also let us know she was paying closer attention to our ongoing “discussions” than we’d realized when on about Day Ten she said, with genuine wonder, ‘Isn’t it amazing how we always get to where we want to go?’ Of everything she’d seen, simply arriving was a highlight.
The epic “lost” moment happened in Sweden on this Fifteenth Day. Friends were expecting us at a specific time. We only needed to stay on a major highway between two cities. Nothing could go wrong with this plan. Right? Well, not so fast.
After hubby agreed to stay the course and not turn right, I finally allowed myself to close my eyes and take a mental break from this journey, confident our ‘getting lost’ days were behind us. I was so relaxed in that moment, I fell asleep. Oh, foolish me. Upon waking, I asked dear hubby how it was going.
“You’ll be proud of me,” he said. “I didn’t make any turns.”
“Okay. Good.” I looked at him closely. “Why do I feel there is a ‘but’ coming? Where are we?”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to ask you,” he said a bit nervously, “but you were sleeping so soundly.” He paused, “Okay. There was a sign awhile back that made it seem like we were supposed to turn right if we wanted to stay on the same highway, but I knew that would be a mistake. Right?”
“Are you kidding me?”
No. He was not kidding as the next highway marker with a different number confirmed.
Turning around to look at my brood, I asked, “Why didn’t any of you help your dad?”
“What?” the awake ones said as they took out their earbuds.
Cargo child sung, “Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there, oh are we there?”
Yep. Nothing takes longer than getting lost.
Lost again, and late. Time to go home and find my sanity.
If only he’d made the right turn.
HOW TO FIX YOUR ANDROID PHONE - A New Take on a Frozen Screen
My Android phone, replaced less than one year ago, from the one replaced less than two years before, suddenly started displaying rainbow colored lines, and only rainbow colored lines, while I was at the dog park yesterday. Yes, I had dropped it in the car, but I am always dropping my phone. There is a screen protector. All should be well, but it was not. Remembering a little about soft and hard reboots, I tried holding power and volume down or was that power and volume up? Since I couldn’t see anything, it was hard to tell what was happening, but I could hear and feel it starting up or possibly shutting down. Every now and then the screen looked normal, but it was just teasing me because it soon went back to beautiful shades of indigo, blue and green. Once my fingers were speedy enough to enter my PIN before the opaque covering again appeared. Other times I could hear it starting up, so tried pressing it here and there. Parts of the normal display would appear on the screen, and then, sadly, disappear. At times I just pressed on the screen blindly, but didn’t want to call 911 by mistake, so stopped doing that.
Back home. What to do? I use my phone for EVERYTHING. I plugged it in at the wall. I plugged it in to my computer. Although I could tell it was on, when I dialed my number, it went straight to voicemail. At one point, I got a message that literally said, “This is not a legitimate number.” That was weird. Dialed again and thank goodness I found myself back at square one, relieved that I hadn’t inadvertently done a hard reset that somehow killed my phone number, and also glad that, in those few seconds, no terrorist had hijacked it. You never know. So, I researched online and didn’t find much other than a few rants here and there about this type of issue, with the general advice being that a new phone is needed in such situations. Eventually, I decided it was either a loose cable or a fried LCD display. Having replaced displays on computers mostly successfully and recently replacing the wireless module on our TV, I started researching how to take this thing apart. It seemed possible, but really, did I want to do that? Naw. I’ll just bring it into the cell phone repair folks the next day. If that didn’t work – time for another new phone.
Alerting my kids to my predicament, so as not to appear to be ignoring any incoming texts, I responded to the usual, “Get an iPhone” with a “Never” and tried to forget about this whole situation and enjoy my evening. At some point, though, I decided to look at that blasted phone again. However, I couldn’t find it – ANYWHERE. How is this possible? I hadn’t left the house. I hadn’t even gone upstairs or down to the basement. I then spent over an hour looking for it, thinking, all the while, this makes no sense. I started looking over and over in the same places, expecting it to appear, like magic. (That does seem to happen now and then). I tipped the recliner over several times and felt around every possible nook and cranny while the dogs and cat looked on with curiosity. Look! A fork! Moving on, I made the loop around the main level repeatedly, checking behind things, under things, including pieces of paper. That was desperate. I searched every room – even the bathroom. I called out to it, which is very sad, I know. Maybe it was under the table on one of the chairs. Nope. Maybe I had put it in my purse already. Nope. Maybe I should check each of those places again. Still nope. Then I looked back at Susie, our golden retriever, and fearless leader of the animal pack. Getting modestly excited at the thought, I decided to check her kennel. Nope.
Did I say this made no sense? This made no sense. Yes, I have a penchant for losing things. Yes, sometimes I think I have lost something and really haven’t, but this, this seemed different. This was just ridiculous. Finally, forcing myself to go to bed after midnight, I tried to sit quietly and think about what was happening when I last saw it. Not having any good answer, I got up and did the loop around the main level one more time, utterly and completely puzzled. Somewhat stressed, I tried to center myself by reading a little further in my meditation book, about being in the here and now, about being intentional. I want to find my phone. I want to find my phone. I was very intentional about that. Sadly, though, all of these intentions led to a poor night’s sleep and a stiff neck.
Next day. Up and at ’em, but the missing phone soon occupied my thoughts. I decided no, this is not going to ruin my whole day. I will just go out and buy a new one. It is a business expense after all. I’ll just do it and be done with it. But first, I really need an ice pack for that sore neck.
Voila! There it was. Right where I had left it. In the freezer door. Yes, in the freezer. My actual intention, I only now recalled, was to put it in there for a few minutes in case it needed to cool down. Even though it didn’t feel all that hot to begin with, I knew the online advice of heating it with a hair dryer seemed off. And, I had once successfully brought life back to a charger with this method, so why not? However, by forgetting to set a timer, as I ordinarily do when time needs monitoring, I had set myself up for failure. And, of course, during my increasingly frantic search the night before, and with no timer to prompt me, I failed to remember even thinking about hot or cold cures, let alone making that decision to place the phone in the freezer. And, no. No wine was involved. I’ll just put that out there now. But wow. So sad. I had, apparently within minutes, utterly and completely forgotten my intention. Clearly more work on being present in the here and now is in order.
OK then. Time to move on. Phone definitely needs to be replaced now. Wiping it off, I headed off to get dressed. Without a thought that anything would actually happen, I pressed the power button. It started up. This time, along with all the usual sounds, the display was actually visible. Well, it did that for just a few seconds the day before. Once. But, this time it stayed on. What? I casually entered the PIN, taking all sorts of time to do it, which in itself was different. Still, I fully expected to see those now nasty rainbow colors again. No. No rainbow colors. Shockingly, it continued to boot up. Eventually it loaded completely. Everything was there. All of my apps that had been hiding so completely just yesterday were there, right where I’d left them. Everything worked and stayed working. Has all day. It’s like the rainbow thingie never even happened.
So, should I be more worried that I 1) made a decision to and actually placed the phone in the freezer in the first place or that I, 2) within a very short span of time, utterly and completely forgot that decision? I’m leaning towards the forgetfulness issue, but the freezing decision isn’t too far behind. What goes without saying is that none of this is normal, and the fact that my phone is now working also makes no sense, but who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?
My kids think mom is a little more cray cray than usual now, but, hey, did I mention that my phone works? That’s all that matters, right? That, and getting some sleep tonight. This isn’t anything like my 94-year-old mom putting the new iPod I gave her in the dishwasher overnight because she couldn’t figure out how to turn it off. Nothing like that at all.
Moral of the story – freezing a fussy Android overnight fixes all that is wrong. But, as I warned my kids, don’t even think about trying this with your iPhones.
Update: Several days later, the phone is still working just fine, in spite of being dropped on a daily basis. Is the question, why? Why is it working at all? Or is it, I wonder if this method will work next time? The answer to this became all to apparent in the days that followed.
One week and several rainbows and freezer visits later: I am beginning to think I might need a new phone. Some would say that is painfully obvious. I almost thought that myself last night after the phone continued on its rainbow path in spite of being repeatedly frozen for several hours. Worst of all, it was being very rainbow-y during our road trip yesterday, leaving us to rely on ... a paper map. These were truly desperate times. And you know the saying, desperate times call for desperate measures. Yes, honey, I did just wrap my phone in an ARBY'S sandwich wrap and place it in a cup of ice. Yes, that is your empty curly fry container being used as a cover. Although the phone did get quite cold with my cardboard freezer, the rainbow dis-connection still prevailed the entire trip. A couple of additional trips to an actual freezer and the pressing of several buttons later, I nearly almost, gave up and admitted that I needed - well, a new phone. Then, suddenly, there was something different – different is good. A low battery indicator. Plain old yellow and red and black. No rainbow colors. Ever the optimist I plugged it in to charge it, and yes, it worked again. Yay. No long annoying visit to the Verizon store needed now. You might think I am most proud of the fact that I have kept my phone working this past week. While I am proud of this and now consider it a challenge to keep this phone operational forever, I’m actually most proud of the fact that I have never again forgotten where my phone is whenever I put it in the freezer. ….to be continued.
Joy is Better
"Happy Mother's Day," my babies shout. Oh, what joy those words do bring. Four bright shiny faces full of love and happiness.
"Happy Mother's Day," my grown kids say, one by one, over the phone. Oh, what comfort those words do bring. Four beautiful adults have flown the nest, but still check in. What could be better?
"Happy Mother's Day," my grandbabies shout. Oh, what joy those words do bring, again. Four shiny faces full of love and happiness. Thank you joy, for returning to my life.