- My phone was open to “Screen Time” accidentally and I discovered that a good chunk of my day is spent online. I guessed that I averaged five-ish hours a day on my phone and while I’m happy to report that the amount of time I spend there is down 19% from last week, 12 hours and 59 minutes is an alarmingly high average for this week and if you’re counting, that’s more than half the hours in the day. Half the hours in the day, I said. Yes, I do my banking, some Bible-ing, some grocery shopping, some school stuff and other tasks that could be considered productive on the internet via my phone but an inordinately large amount of my 24 hours is spent on Twitter, IG, and Facebook and watching Jacob Collier videos on YouTube. That is not good. And while none of those activities is bad, too much of those activities is. So, some major adjustments are due. I really could stop there, but so much more necessitates this time away.
- Someone wrote the wrong lyrics to a line in the Oscar Mayer song and I was triggered. And we didn’t even grow up eating b-o-l-o-g-n-a. Too boughie then; still am now. Even though, growing up, we did get that bomb government cheese from our church and I repeat: it was bomb.
- Complete strangers keep coming for my loved ones online, the chiefest of these being my husband and I don’t handle that especially well. The hubs recently posted a video that got a bit of traction and he’s gained quite a few new followers across his social medias. Not all of them love him, surprisingly. People keep telling me that I would have to have thick skin to be in ministry full-time and if allowing slights against Brandon to come and go unaddressed serves as evidence of my thick skinned-ness, my recent behavior online is irrefutable proof that, sixteen years in, my skin is still paper thin. Heads up: I plan for that character flaw (strength?) to not change. And if you want it to change, don’t talk to me. Talk to Brandon. You tell him to stop taking such good care of me.
- Because my daughter told me that she learns her book smarts from her dad, and her street smarts from me. I don’t know if I’m prouder that she thinks I’m street smart though I’m anything but, or offended that she thinks she gets her book smarts from her dad. And I’m her homeschool teacher.
- It’s August. It’s time.
See y’all next month.