Once again, I drove to Jones, Oklahoma for my daughter Pat to straighten out the problem I was having on my Mac.  She usually can help me by phone, but every now and then I screw it up so bad it has to be one on one.

One of the things I really don't like is the constant notifications telling me that I need to update.  I don't want to update.  I want everything to stay the same.  I just get comfortable with a process and Apple wants to change it.  Drives me nuts.

If I don't update, those pop-up reminders never, never ever go away.

The generations that have come after mine are in constant fluctuation.  Everything is changing around them all of the time.  They don't fix things, they discard them and get a new one.

We were raised to fix stuff.  Carolyn told me that she still has the toaster she got for her wedding, and uses it every morning.  That was sixty years ago at least.  I have a spatula that was a wedding gift that is my favorite utensil in my kitchen.  Stainless steel.  Not plastic.  Doesn't break, doesn't bend.  Still going strong after sixty years. When you need a rubber spatula, buy one at Williams Sonoma and you won't ever have to buy another one.  Becky gave me mine.

One thing this pandemic has showed me is how little I really need.  My kitchen cabinets are full of stuff I rarely use.  Nice to have it if I need it, but not worth the space it takes up. Black iron skillet is indispensable.  

I've  been getting stuff out of my house.   Simplify, simplify.  I packed up all the zillion pieces of Christmas stuff last week.  I kept a ceramic tree that lights up.  I'll pop it out come December and say, "Done."