Ten-Finger Exercises

Things that talk

Today's blog is about things that actually talk, in a manner of speaking, as opposed to imaginary voices.

I've written several stories, in a file called Small Talk, in which various objects interact with the character. Yes, it's a childish thing; and many people have said that they would make good children's stories, although I didn't write them with that intention and disagree. I was thinking about my own, or some other old lady's, comments when no one else is around. I mean, haven't you ever told your clothes dryer to stuff itself? Or your vacuum to suck it up? Or yelled at a pan of peas and scolded them for burning? And I'm sure some of you have screamed "All 'e, all 'e Outs In Free!" (or "oly-oly-oxen free") to your keys when you're finally tired of the game of hide and seek.

Well, now we have a car that talks to us. (Or at least Bill does. I'm not trying to get any sympathy, mind you. I could have bought it for me instead. It makes better sense this way, since he drives about three times more than I do. Maybe more. And I am enjoying driving Robert "Red" Ford.)

(The 1990 car I used to have "talked" to me once, but after awhile I learned to ignore it. When I first sat in the driver's seat and turned on the engine, a sign lit up saying "Air Bag." Wasn't that rude? )

The Prius has a moving map display, which I did buy for me, for when I drive it. Bill doesn't need it, but it's another toy for him and so he plays with it. It tells him his gasoline mileage by the second, and whether he's using gasoline or battery. If he commands, "Go home," it will read out his approximate arrival time.

The female voice (one of the options) tells him to get ready to make a right turn in a quarter of a mile, something I've never been good at when I'm navigating. She doesn't know all the short cuts he knows though; and so, when he passes her idea of the correct turn, she tells him to turn around at the next convenient spot and go back. He loves it. He totally disregards what she says, argues with her, and does what he wants. He's trying to teach her his off-the-map routes, but she isn't learning very fast.

Isn't that a great invention? Now if he'd only get all that male dominant thing out of his system and remember that I'm not the voice to ignore. He has to do what I say.


Here's a picture, taken from the plane, of the road I drive out to the boonies. The next picture is of one of the fields, which got much greener in the two weeks between them and the previous pictures. The third is of a hillside that totally burned last summer, brilliant now.

I have to enjoy all the green now, because Lauren is right. It's like Southern California. It will be all dried up and brown too soon.