From the Redneck Diva:
Technology is a wonderful thing. I am personally involved in a very deep, meaningful relationship with all of my electronic devices. It might even be safe to say I love them.
I haven’t always been this way, though. I was very technology-resistant for a long time. I was the teenager who obnoxiously declared to my high school boyfriend that I would never own a CD, that cassettes were going to be around forever, and those little discs he played Guns N’ Roses on were a passing fad. In my defense, though, it was 1989 and I was 16, so you really can’t hold it against me.
The first time I had really worked on a computer was in my gifted class as a seventh grader. They were Commodore 64s. They didn’t have a mouse. We wrote code as classroom assignments. It was so beyond my hormone-laden comprehension at the time that I didn’t really enjoy working on them. Apparently I wasn’t “gifted” in that department. Or maybe I was too busy thinking about boys to concentrate on computer code.
We were actually one of the first families at our little school to get a home computer, and my father was so excited about the fact it was an “IBM clone,” whatever that meant. I’m sure that meant it was cheaper than an IBM; a knock-off, so to speak. I’m surprised we didn’t buy it from a guy’s trunk on the shady side of town. [Editor's note: her whole town was shady.] What Sis and I remember most about that first computer was that you had to load approximately seven floppy disks (and I mean actual floppy floppy disks) to boot it. It was an old-school, DOS-using, mouse-less, one-color-on-the-screen (green) monstrosity—and the printer was a daisy wheel dot matrix. We were in high cotton, folks.
Fast-forward to the beginning of the digital information age. Fast-forward to Windows. Fast-forward to the mouse. In 1999, I had a three-year-old daughter and a one-year-old son. I was a stay-at-home mom who spent the majority of every day watching Blue’s Clues. For some reason, my sister got it in her head that I needed to learn how to use a computer. I wasn’t sure why she thought that since a computer wasn’t needed to turn on Nickelodeon, change a diaper, or wash a load of laundry, but insist she did. She hauled a gigantic computer over to my house one day and set it up for me. I looked at it blankly and said, “I don’t have a clue what to do with this thing. You know that, right?” She laughed and said, “Mmmhmm. Now…here’s the mouse.” I squealed and jumped on a dining room chair until she explained she was talking about the computer mouse. That first time using the mouse was…interesting. I couldn’t control it: the dang thing kept making the cursor disappear, and it was way too fast for my brain, which was at the time running at toddler-speed. And the windows? I think one time after the whole dang thing locked up and I had to call my sister, she found 15 windows open. I didn’t know you had to close them.
Shortly after that I started hearing about this fancy thing called “Internet” and the “World Wide Web” and it intrigued me enough to ask my mother-in-law if she would consider helping us buy a computer “for the kids”—because, you know, all preschoolers need a computer. Well, they do now. Back then they did not. She didn’t know that, though. She bought us a Gateway desktop with like a Pentium ¼ processor. This thing was a behemoth with a monitor the size of Guam; not the screen, the actual housing. I got us hooked up to the World Wide Web the day after it arrived. I insisted on calling it the “World Wide Web”, not “the Internet” or “the Web”. No, I would nonchalantly say, “Well, you know today when I was surfing the World Wide Web…,” and boy, wasn’t I just full of awesome. I’d get up to get a drink in the middle of the night and check my email or see who was online on ICQ. (Does anyone remember ICQ? No? Just me? [Editor's note: Me!]) I think it’s safe to say I was addicted to the Internet.
One day my three-year-old proudly announced to a living room full of family, “I loooooove cheese. Cheese -dot-com!” This came directly after her daddy and I had spent the larger part of one evening typing random words followed by “.com” just to see what kind of websites we’d find. Strangely enough, there was hammer.com, clouds.com, cows.com, and yes, cheese.com.
Because I really hold very little back when it comes to my online presence, I have been recognized in public, and it thrills me to hear someone tentatively ask, “Are you Redneck Diva?” People have called my mother to ask how one of the kids is feeling after I’ve posted, updated, or tweeted that I’ve got a sick kid at home for the day. A woman once asked my sister in the checkout line at Walmart why she was buying cat food because I hadn’t mentioned anything on my blog about her having a cat. My mother was convinced for years that someone was going to kidnap me, hack me into pieces, and bury my dismembered body in 55-gallon drums in their backyard. She’s settled down a little now that, after six years blogging, I still have all my body parts. She even admits to reading the blog every now and then, but she’s much more open to reading here at WelchOK.com because it’s a “news site” and not just bloggy silliness [Editor's note: We knew your mom was good people.]. And y’all know how serious and business-like I am here at the Diva Dish.
I recently became a contributor to a collaborative blog with five other Oklahoma housewives, and because we’re insanely busy with all of our soap opera-watching and bon bon-eating, we can’t always get together in person for brainstorming and scheduling meetings, so we are all on Skype. This morning I was in a Skype chat with them while I brushed my teeth. I also switched the laundry from washer to dryer while typing one-handed on my iPod Touch in the chat. I felt positively professional standing there in my ratty paint-splattered shorts, minty foam around my mouth, discussing upcoming events and important topics (No, not All My Children vs. Days of Our Lives) while providing clean clothes for my family. Well, I felt as professional as one can feel with Colgate dripping out the side of her mouth.
I sleep with my iPod and cell phone on the nightstand and yes, I have been known to check Facebook at 3 a.m. occasionally, but not often. I mean, eating bon bons all day just wears me out, so I sleep pretty well. When the weather gets stormy and it looks like we’ll be visiting the cellar, the laptop is one of the first things to go to the fraidy hole. My cell phone is usually in my hand at all times or at least in my purse. I tweet in Walmart, the doctor’s office, while shoe shopping, and while on the treadmill, but those treadmill ones are usually nonsense because of the lightheadedness that usually occurs while walking on it.
Today I’m a little less obsessed, with technology, but not much. While I haven’t been in a public chat room in years, now there are blogs, Facebook, Twitter, and Skype. I am so connected to everyone around me I might as well claim them as tax deductions. I know who drinks coffee in the morning, who hates Mondays, and who can’t spell worth a darn. In return, though, everyone on my friends list knows if I take a nap in the afternoon, if my kids are driving me crazy, and what I fixed for dinner. Is it too much information? Oh probably. Ask my mother what she thinks.
Diva
Kristin Hoover is the Redneck Diva. A local blogger and stay-at-home mom, Kristin has won Okie Blog Awards for her humorous take on the rural life of a natural-born diva who married a redneck and produced three offspring. Visit her blogs at http://www.theredneckdiva.com and http://therhok.com.