Monday Meanderings - June 28

And US interest in soccer fades into the sunset for another 4 years.

The other day my reverie was interrupted (retired speak for something woke me from my nap) by a "bong" from my nearby iTouch. It caused me to think how suddenly our lives have been filled with a plethora of little electronic beeps, bongs, dings and bings. Of course we have always endured the ringing phone and the chiming doorbell; more recently cell phones added ringtones, message notification chimes and text message trills. Even spookier is to be up late at night and hear a cell phone plead for a battery recharge with a series of plaintive bongs.

iPhone and iTouch and the ilk have added all these plus whatever method your apps use to notify you. E-mail has a distinctive tone. So does Facebook.  Words with Friends has a multi-tone chime. TextNow lets you choose your alert, including such favorites as belching and other bodily noises. I draw the line, there. Use the timer? Choose a barking dog, cricket, siren or a multitude of other signals. Dare I mention my Vuvuzela app? Intentional electronic disharmony!

Even my coffee pot beeps at me when it is through brewing and again when it turns off. No wonder I am growing deaf.

For some reason we have had snails in the garden and yard this year. Not the little slug-like snails, but big, colorful suckers. And I guess that's what they do because I keep finding them up in the Anacacho bush, gnawing on leaves. How they crawled through the tall grass to get there is a mystery yo me.

And on the subject of garden animals, we have been entertained by a little Tufted Titmouse that evidently wants to come in the house. The feeders are hung in front of the bonus room window so we can watch the birds while walking on the treadmill. Well, I watch them while walking; Barb walks in the mall. I don't know if they have birds there or not. But I digress. The Titmouse will come to the window ledge and peck on the glass - or fly up and down, fluttering its wings against the window pane. It doesn't seem to be a case of trying to fly through the window (the Redbirds try that every so often, and go away with terrible headaches). The Titmouse simply wants to come in, I think.

And I leave you with the greatest headline ever written.