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Thursday, April 28, 2005

Time in Tahoe good, bad

Okay, I love being away from the hustle of our regular lives and having Father in Chief around to help with Toddler in Chief round the clock, but this dial-up Internet connection is maddening.

I know, I know. I really shouldn't be connecting to the Internet while we away from the hustle in an attempt to soak up couple/family-time before FIC starts his new job on Monday. But this Internet-thing is so much a part of our daily lives that it is *really* hard to truly disconnect, to not check email numerous times a day, to not dial in just to see where the best Mexican restaurant is, to not connect just for a minute to see if anyone has commented on my most recent blog posting.

Here's a confession: I don't even remember how to use the telephone book. And if your restaurant doesn't have its menu posted online, it might as well not even exist. To steal the Yellow Pages' tag line: If it's not online, it doesn't exist.

There is no part of my life that doesn't have a direct link to the Internet. My address book, my main source of communication with friends (who calls anyone anymore??), maps, driving directions, photos (and there are so many with a kid around looking so darn cute all of the time), menus, my livelihood/sanity depends on it through blogs, instant messaging with FIC while he's at work, finding a plumber/repair person/electrician/dog walker, finding the closest Wi-Fi hotspots. The only thing I haven't transitioned online is my calendar. I still love my little check-book-sized version where I use an actual pen with actual ink to sort out my appointments and to chronicle TIC's weight at his well-baby check-ups.

So sad as it is, we couldn't leave home without it. So we take turns sitting at the kitchen table tapping away on the tiny keyboard in the un-ergonomicly correct chair to check a hundred unimportant things (with each taking ten times as long due to dial-up) while the snow-covered Sierra mountains serve as the backdrop. At least we're all together and someone else is changing a larger percentage of poopy diapers.

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