The End Is Near, so What's Next?

The New York Times Magazine published "Facebook Exodus," August 26, reporting on how people have been amscraying the social media behemoth. More and more, people are fearing the Big Brotherness of the mega-site, the magazine reports.

To date, I have four email addresses; a Facebook account with 70 friends, some of whom I don't really know; a Twitter account; two blogs (one is my terrier's); a website; and an iPhone. Yet I feel like an online underachiever.

The next generation

I also wonder what my now 9-year-old will be using when she ventures into the teenage years. (I'm giving her my backup laptop, and was feeling like I was lagging behind on this one.

Given the speed of online media, and the propensity of children to NOT copy their parents once they are older than 12, I suspect she won't use any of the online avenues I use. Facebook by then, I wager, will be as dead as msn.com; Twitter will have morphed; laptops will be passe; and a future-generation iPhone will be our work computers.

What will the children born in 2000s be doing? Using a yet-to-be seen medium, or rebelling against a world that demands 24/7 contact with anyone and everyone?

I'm hoping for the rebellion.

Hot Horses and Parenting

I trained horses for nearly 10 years when I first arrived in the Pacific Northwest.

I managed two stables during that time, giving a full slate of riding lessons each week, training clients' horses, and training my own. I showed some, too, in the summers.

Over the years, I learned that I was pretty good with the "Steady Eddies," the generally compliant equines happy to be doing my bidding and eager to get on with the program -- typically the quarter horses, Trakehners, and crossbreds.

I had to really work at training the thoroughbreds, Arabians, and other hot horses. In my mind, it was clear what I wanted, but those buggers usually had other ideas -- and were often distracted by a leaf on the other side of the paddock.

Over the years, I learned that I'd get a lot further with them if I let them dance around beneath me and bounce in the direction I wanted them to go.

If I relaxed enough to let them learn that way, they often performed a lot better than my Steady Eddies in the barn. If I tensed up and came to loggerheads with them, they got sweaty, I got sweaty, and no one accomplished anything anytime soon.

So I've been thinking about 2-year-old Arabs and thoroughbreds lately when I watch my 9-year-old spin beneath the ceiling fan for as much apparent reason as the colt who shied at the shadow. I occurs to me that the same light touch with those horses may be just the ticket when it comes to guiding her through childhood. Hopefully, no one will get too sweaty.

The Mom Song ...

A co-worker sent "The Mom Song" to me today. In the last 24 hours, I, too, have said most of these things at least once -- along with "Stop pulling on the dog's coat!"