From the iPad of Donna

Someone asked me if I could blog from the iPad, so I’m doing this to find out.  I’ve connected a Bluetooth keyboard, so I don’t have to type with one finger.  Meanwhile, let’s talk about donuts.

For the first many years of our marriage, Cliff and I would occasionally buy donuts:  We loved them, they didn’t cost much compared to other breakfasts, and we didn’t care whether we got fat.  So why not eat donuts?  

Well, donuts gave me heartburn, but back then a Tums tablet would take care of that.  So we indulged.  I even made donuts back then, sometimes from scratch, sometimes the kind where you poke a hole in the middle of a canned biscuit, deep-fry it, and shake it up in powdered sugar or dip it in glaze.  Try it before you criticize; they’re pretty good in a pinch when you live in the country and it’s 20 miles to a donut shop.  

Even before Cliff had open heart surgery 12 years ago, we started caring more about what we ate and gave up donuts for the most part.  These days I don’t even think about them often.  
That’s why I was rather taken aback last week when Cliff walked by some donuts at Walmart that were reduced in price for quick sale and looked at me hopefully.  “No,” I said.  “We don’t eat donuts any more.  I don’t even like them that much.”  Then we went on about our business, checked out, and headed toward our next shopping destination.  

But somehow, the power of suggestion had wormed its way into my psyche. “You know, if I were going to eat a donut, I’d be getting one at a donut shop, freshly made.” Cliff made a U-turn and changed directions.  “Where are you going?” I asked.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a Lamar’s donut shop somewhere along 7 highway.”

Oh my, we have a great memory of Lamar’s.  When Charles Gusewelle, a long-time Kansas City Star columnist, did a fund-raiser for KCPT years ago, folks who made the donation of a specific amount were invited to the hunting cabin he had written about for years.  Arriving at a nearby town, we were treated with Lamar’s donuts, the ordinary glazed ones; it was the best donut I’ve ever had, probably due to the fact we hadn’t had one for years.  The memory haunts me yet.

We found Lamar’s and hurried in, only to be confronted with a problem:  There were too many kinds!  I can’t even tell you what kind of donut I got, but Cliff got some pastry about six inches long, glazed, with creme filling inside.  We sat at a table and finished them off, Cliff offering me a bite or two of his much larger pastry every once in awhile.  

We may have felt a little guilt, but not enough to really bother us.  We neither one talked about how great it was to finally sink our chops into donuts.  But later, at home, I said, “You know, those donuts weren’t all that great.”  

“I know,” Cliff replied.  “Next time I’m getting a plain glazed donut instead of something with phony-tasting creme filling inside.”

“Me too.  That flavored one I had wasn’t the greatest either.”

I doubt there will be a next time.  

Here’s a silly thing I have to share:  I have a lot of Facebook friends, so even though I over-share on Facebook, there are always lots of “likes” and comments on what I post.  Last week that stopped.  For five days straight, only two people responded in any way to what I posted.  I finally decided Facebook had changed something, which would be nothing new, but I didn’t like it.  I de-activated Facebook, figuring if that bothered me so much, I was giving a social media platform too much importance.  Maybe it was time to   leave entirely.  

When you temporarily deactivate, you still have Messenger.  Saturday I received a message from a Facebook friend saying I’d been cloned.  At the time that seemed strange, because how could they clone me if I wasn’t even ON facebook.  However, I reactivated my account and told people the problem and not to accept a friend request from me.  Of course, only two people, the same ones, saw this, but after an hour I deactivated again. 

That evening I had a thought:  When I first joined Facebook I made some groups:  Chat room friends, blogger friends, family, etc.  If you have groups, you can choose a group when you post, and only that group will see the post.  Turns out I’m too lazy to mess with all that, so I hardly ever used it.  But what if the setting on Facebook had been changed, so that only one group could see it?  

Sure enough.  I looked at the two names:  Sherri, from Kentucky, and Inga from Kansas, were members of the group I named “Blogger friends”.  Inga never blogged as far as I know, but she used to comment on my blog.  That was the only way I came to know her.  The other blogger friends did not comment or “like” anything I’d posted because they couldn’t have seen those posts.  Even if they went to my status they wouldn’t have seen them.  

Since I haven’t used my groups in years, I’m wondering whether I accidentally clicked the drop-down arrow beside “who can see this” when I posted... because if you choose the group setting, it will stay at that unless you change it... or had Facebook done it.  I’m guessing it was me.

For the people who only know me on this blog, if you don’t have Facebook you probably don’t even know what I’m talking about, and for that I apologize.  But I needed to come up with something for this “test” post.  Now I need I’m going to see if I can post a picture to make sure that’s possible with the iPad, and I’ll be gone.