All thumbs means that you are dexterously clumsy. So why did the brightest minds of today invent palm held electronic devices that require us to use our most ineffective digits? I’ve finally gotten the hang of texting on my cell phone with a full-sized, button keyboard, but the keypad screen of my new iTouch is most frustrating.
I’ve been typing with ten fingers for nearly 70% of my life. You do the algebra and guess my age. Using only thumbs is prehistoric or at least preschool, but my teenage son can nearly match his ten finger typing speed with his opposing digits while texting.
But those of us whose fingers fly over a keyboard obeying our mental processes without even thinking about the words, thumbing feels like wading through knee-deep mud while dragging an anchor.
Beyond genetic mutation, will some brainiac please come up with a better idea!
Today’s post is by a friend who allowed me to use her Bronco as a charactor in one of my novels.
Arriving after football practice at my son’s high school, I slipped out to switch seats so he could drive home, when one of his teammates waved at me. “He just likes your truck, mom.”
Ahh yes…the beastly dinosaur, a 1996 Bronco. My Broncosaurus. I’ve become known for my truck. Male SUV lovers drool over it. I’ve had Porsche keys tossed to me in trade for the extinct Ford. But like my husband told the salesman who begged us to trade it when he was dealing for his pick-up, “You’ll have to pry them from her cold, dead hands!”
The guy who instilled my love of the Bronco at seventeen was a playa in the worst way, but at least I found a faithful truck for the time served. Since then, I’ve owned two.
Because the Bronco as afforded me such notoriety, I couldn’t pass up the chance when Dani want to cast the “Broncosaurus” in her hot beach read, Hot as Blazes.